They found it to be, as they had expected from Dick’s description, a moonshiners’ den, full of contraband liquor. Here were all the tools of that forbidden business. Evidently for years the pair had been distilling the dangerous stuff which the law has declared unlawful to make or sell or distribute. These men were now not only killing themselves by slow degrees, but they were breaking the law and making money by selling danger to others. Captain Sackett gazed around in surprise and horror. To think this still should have been operating under his very nose all this time, only discovered by accident through Anne’s being lost on the mountain! She had been in danger, too, that made him shudder. For these were desperate men.
Piled in one corner were some sticks of dynamite. And with these were some of the jugs still labeled with the name of C. F. Poole. Evidently the moonshiners had been doing a regular business with the rich man, supplying his cellars with the liquor. And when they burned his place they could not bear to see the stuff which he had left behind wasted; so they had lugged some of it back here through the woods, to enjoy by themselves, while the house was crumbling.
The Captain strode out of the house and faced the two bewildered and cowering fellows. “What d’ye burn down his house for?” he asked with a menacing frown. “We know you done it. Now what for?”
Leveen, the smaller of the two men, began to jabber in broken English, pointing at his comrade with accusing finger. “He done it. He! He! Not me!” Leveen seemed to be a foreigner of the lowest type, lawless and uneducated. Though he had come to America, it was not to be an American. He was what Tante would have called poor material for the Patchwork Quilt; he never should have been allowed to baste himself upon it. He was that impossible kind of “square” that does not fit into any orderly society, because of its worn-off corners. He refused to acknowledge any right or wrong but “liberty” to do as he pleased.
The other man was different. He called himself Smith—an innocent name enough. “You Smith!” growled the Captain. “What you do it for? You know better! You was born an American; you’ve had an eddication and a chance. What you burn down a man’s house for?”
Smith was too intoxicated to be cautious. “What did Poole cheat me fur?” he growled. “He done us both; we both paid him off! Leveen, he’s lying. It was he—he lifted the petrol. Poole wanted to git rich quick. So did we. He got us to make liquor for him—ain’t it a free country?—and fixed it easy so’s we shouldn’t be found out. He helped our business and got the advantage of it in two ways. He took our money and invested it in his bank. Invested! He stole it, the mean scalawag! That’s why we burned his house. But what I want to know is, how did you find this place? He eyed the group angrily and his eyes rested on the three khaki-clad fellows from Round Robin, with a dawning idea in his muddled brain.
“Your still was found by accident,” said the Captain cautiously. “But you were seen prowlin’ about Idlewild at the fire. You can’t get around that.”
“Injun woman!” hissed Leveen fiercely. “She saw. I told you!”
“Shut up!” cried Smith, turning on him. “You’re givin’ us away!” He did not seem to know that he himself had already done so. “I know who told on me,” he went on fiercely. “It was that gal! You fellers are from that imitation camp, too. She told on me, though I warned her. She is Poole’s darter—I might a’knowed she’d queer my game. She’s a chip of the old block, she is. But she’ll have to pay yet!” And he uttered wild threats about Anne.
The Captain grew rigid. “Stop!” he cried sternly. “That little gal is no more Poole’s darter than I be. She is my grand-darter, and be careful how you talk now. Every word you say will be used against you.”