"My Lord! Mr. Westerfelt," he said, "I hope you didn't give them fellers away."
"Never dreamt of such a thing. What do you mean?"
"I 'lowed you had by what that feller said just now."
"What did he say?"
"Why, he said they'd ketched the men right whar you left 'em, an'—"
"Well, what of that?" Westerfelt spoke impatiently. "I did pass the whiskey wagon. The revenue men asked me if I'd seen them, and I simply refused to answer. They didn't get anything out of me."
"That's just what I'd 'a' done, but I wish you'd 'a' set yorese'f right jest now, fer them fellers certainly think you give 'em away, an' they'll tell the gang about it."
"Well, I didn't, so what does it matter?"
Washburn took out the bowl of his lantern and extinguished the light as they entered the office.
"It makes a man mighty unpopular in the Cohutta Valley to interfere with the moonshiners," he answered. "Whiskey-makin' is agin the law, but many a family gits its livin' out o' the stuff, an' a few good citizens keep the'r eyes shet to it. You see, Mr. Westerfelt, the gang may be a little down on you anyway sence your difficulty with Wambush. Did you know that he wus a sort of a ring-leader amongst 'em?"