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Who does it, anyhow?" "I'm not drunk and haven't been for six months. Come on, for God's sake, and help me to save a life, maybe two lives, from the very man that's done the boot-leggin' and robbin' in this town for months and months." Saxon's words were convincing enough. "What can I do?" Burgess asked. "I'm not a policeman." "Come on! Come on!" Saxon urged, tugging at the professor's arm.
"Moncrossen's got a gang Shtromberg's in ut, an' a Frinch cruiser named Lebolt, an' a boot-leggin' tree-spotter named Creed, that lives in Hilarity, an' a couple av worthless divils av sawyers that's too lazy fer honest wor-rk, but camps t'rough th' winter, trappin' an sawin' bird's-eye an calico ash on other men's land.
And these guys what stored their stuff here in the boot-leggin' days never got into the house." "The boy got through, didn't he?" Val knew that voice, the Boss of the swamp meeting. "Well, if he did, we can." "Lissen, Boss, it's a secret, ain't it? An' we gotta know how it works before we can work it. An' lissen here, you swamp bum, you keep outta my way see?
"What's a Hardscrabbler?" queried the well-dressed man. "Feller from the Hardscrabble Settlement over on Corsica Lake. Tough lot, they are. Make their own laws, when they want any; run their place to suit themselves. Ain't much they ain't up to. Hoss-stealin', barn-burnin', boot-leggin', an' murder thrown in when " "Be you the doctor was to Corsica Village two years ago?"
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