“You know,” said Amos, “Pete Gergue asked me just that. Ever hear the story about the lady and the bear, Kite? Bear chased the lady around the tree, and the lady’s husband was up the tree. Lady yells to him to come down and kill the bear; but husband just sets on his branch, out of reach, and yells: ‘Go it, wife; go it, b’ar.’ Ever hear that story, Kite?”
Kite chuckled without any mirth in his dry old eyes. “No,” he said.
“That man didn’t figure to play any favorites,” Amos explained. “And neither do I. Ain’t often I get a chance to set back and watch a fight. This time, I’m going to. On the sidelines. That’s me, Kite.”
Kite protested instantly. “That’s not the fair thing, Amos. You and I worked together to put him in there, with the understanding he’d let the liquor business alone.”
Amos lifted his hand. “Understanding was that Wint weren’t likely to monkey with it. You thought so. That’s why you was willing to help me. I didn’t make any promises, nor any predictions, Kite.”
“But, damn it,” Kite insisted, “you ought to be willing to help me out. I helped you out.”
“It would hurt me, Kite, to know I sanctioned nonenforcement.”
“Nobody would know.”
“They’d find out. Things like that do get out, you know, Kite.”
The little man tugged at his side whiskers feverishly. “Amos,” he pleaded, “isn’t there anything you can do for me? This is bad business. I can’t stand it. I won’t stand it. Isn’t there anything you can do?”