212 THE CAROLINA MOUNTAINS 
never came out into the light. "Dark Corners!" 
The name struck the fancy of deriding neighbors 
and stuck. However that may be, Dark Corners 
here came to be synonymous with the haunt of the 
moonshiner, whose boldest deeds were executed 
there in days gone by. Many tales are told of raids 
into the Dark Corners, of tragedies enacted there, 
and finally of the clever manner in which the "mas- 
ter moonshiner" conducted to a happy issue his 
perilous vocation, rendered ever more perilous by the 
encroachments of civilization. This kindly outlaw 
did not shoot the invaders; he invited them to din- 
ner, cared for their horses, entertained them with his 
best, no doubt including an accidental bottle, then 
followed them to his still, looked on while they de- 
stroyed his expensive outfit, assisted them in load- 
ing the barrels of confiscated "stuff," even politely 
lending them his own wagon and horses to convey it 
away. It was difficult to get "stuff" hauled out of 
the Dark Corners, because nobody would do it. No 
negro driver could be induced to go in there at any 
price, so it was a real kindness to be helped out by 
the moonshiner himself. 
Such conduct as this could not fail of its reward. 
The "raider," so it is said, did his duty to the extent 
of satisfying the demands of his office, and if he 
suspected that the stuff confiscated was but a part, 
and a small part, of what remained " hid out" in the 
ravines, he did not overwork his conscience nor risk 
his popularity trying to find it. Neither did he ac- 
cuse the man, who had treated him so handsomely, 
