Before the cave's mouth was an adobe furnace for the fire, and over it the now dry end of the pipe hung uselessly. The still was removable, and was now in the cave, together with distilled stock on hand and kegs of molasses that had been packed into the cañon on burros' backs, then trundled laboriously up into the chaparral.
Chuck and Obed entered the open cave and sat themselves down beside a barrel with a wooden spigot. They found glasses and wiped soil and cobwebs from them with their thumbs, and soon the water-coloured liquor flowed to the temporary gladdening of their hearts.
But as it flowed again and again they began renewing their grievances, and shook their heads over "the good old days," and mouthed vague threats, and forgot all about Lime Rock and the breachy cow.
In the midst of their maudlin conversation Obed Pence heard a sound, despite his rum-dulled sensibilities.
"Cut it out!" he husked. "Somebody's beatin' it in here."
He lay flat in the mouth of the cave and looked down the hillside under the chaparral.
"Old Man and Bolar," he announced.
"Le's get out an' beat it over the hill, and back down to our caballos—and they won't know we been here," Chuck suggested.
"Huh! Not me!" retorted Pence. "They already seen our horses, I'll bet. Anyway, I'm liquored up just right to tell Old Man how the war broke out. I'm glad he's comin'. I'm gonta know what's what right pronto!"