"Each of us worked alone so as not to attract attention. Our job was merely to locate the illicit stills and then militia would be sent to raid and destroy them, and the vile stuff they concoct.
"I had been on the job about a week when I came one night to a desolate-looking little shack on a high mountainside. It did not look inviting, but I had to have shelter for the night, so I stepped to the door and knocked. A rather comely looking woman replied to my summons.
"'I'm a peddler,' I explained, 'could I get something to eat and a room here for the night?'
"She looked at me twice before answering.
"'What you tradin' in?' she asked, with a trace of suspicion.
"I judged from her manner that there was an illicit still in the neighborhood and that was what made her so suspicious.
"'Oh, laces, ribbons and so forth,' I replied.
"I showed her some samples.
"I'll give you breakfast, supper and a bed fer that bit of red ribbon,' she said.
"'I'll throw in this bit of blue,' said I gallantly.