3o8 SPORT INDEED 



edge that it is easier to get money out of a live man 

 than a dead one. 



Perhaps the liveliest man in this moonshine district 

 is the moonshiner himself. And he has need to be, 

 for it requires an uncommon amount of liveliness to 

 carry on his business and keep out of jail at the same 

 time. The whiskey he makes is pure, without doubt, 

 and white as water. He sells it at a dollar per gallon, 

 but it isn't every one that can buy it ; not because the 

 price is out of his reach, but for the reason that it 

 isn't every one the daring distiller can trust. The 

 thirsty customer must be a man whom the moon- 

 shiner knows to be friendly, otherwise he will have to 

 "go dry," or get his corn juice from a legitimate 

 quarter. 



We had one week of hard work — if hunting can be 

 called work — and then, loaded down with quail, gray 

 squirrels, and a big box of persimmons, we bade fare- 

 well, but not without regret, to the realm of the 

 moonshiner. We envied the happiness of the quaint 

 people with whom we had dwelt during our trip, and 

 almost wished that Fate had shaped our own exist- 

 ence in the same mold. They are strangers to sorrow 

 and sadness, while cares of any sort they know noth- 

 ing about. They have no telegraph, nor telephone, 

 nor even a mail boy to ruffle the smooth current of 

 their lives. Their wants are few. Good-will, good- 

 fellowship, the open air of heaven, plenty of good 



