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Updated: June 6, 2025
He looked in for a moment, but the sight of hard-faced houris revolving cheek to cheek with men in overalls and boots was nothing new. It did remind him of the march of progress, however, to notice that the bartenders served coca-cola instead of "hootch." Hygienic, but vain, he reflected. Not at all like the brave old days.
"All right," Casey bore witness, keeping his eyes fixed on Joe and the gun and trying his best to maintain a nonchalant manner. "I'd call it purty fair hootch." "It's GOOD hootch!" Joe declared impressively, apparently quite convinced that Casey was not a Federal officer. "Can yuh feel the kick'to it?"
If you're careful in picking your men, you could locate some hootch, couldn't you, without attracting attention?" Casey studied the matter. "Bill Masters could mebby help me out," he said finally. "Only I don't like the friends Bill's been wishin' onto me lately. This man Kenner, that held me up, knowed Bill Masters intimate. I'm kinda losin' my taste fer Bill lately."
"I've lived honest all these years an', dammit, it's kinda tough to break out with stealin I what yuh don't want! Couldn't we fill them bottles with somethin' that LOOKS like hootch? Cold tea should get by, Mr. Nolan. It'd be a fine joke on Smilin' Lou." "A good joke, maybe but no evidence. It isn't against the law, Ryan, to have cold tea in your possession.
"Is that all?" inquired Marsh. "Aye tell my wife she say Aye drink too much hootch," grinned Nels. "So Aye don't tell her about deh oder night." "What night was that?" "Aye tenk las' Monday night. Aye go see Ole. He have some new stuff goodt goodt. Aye stay late don't see well com'n' home. Aye tenk Aye turn in my own gate and walk walk walk but no home. Aye hear auto com'n' get out of de road.
Ain't been just hearing things, have you, Murphy? A swig of this home-made hootch does upset a man dreadful, sometimes." Murphy glared. "I ain't never touched the stuff," he bellowed. Then added, aggressively, "You know damned well I wasn't the only one to hear that shot. The tenant downstairs heard it, too. It was him that brought me in."
Only fer Bill Masters bein' your friend, I dunno but what I'd take yuh right back with me t' L. A. an' let yuh sleep in a jail oncet seein' you've never had the pleasure!" The young man laughed imperturbably. "Flip that dollar for me, Casey, to see whether I shoot yuh now an' dump yuh out in the brush somewheres, or make yuh play the hootch game an' like it.
Nobody could forget you, handsome. Never no more, never. What do you say to another shot of hootch? The stuff's getting rottener and rottener, don't you think? Come on, swallow. Here's how. Oh, ain't we got fun!" The orchestra paused. It resumed. The crowd thickened. Shouts, laughter, swaying bodies. A tinkle of glassware, snort of trombones, whang of banjos.
"Nels he bane crazy!" snapped the woman. "Crazy widt de moonshane!" "Moonshine!" repeated Marsh. "Hootch," she explained. "Ole's hootch." Marsh laughed, and Nels grinned, his features for the first time showing an awakened interest. Marsh thought quickly. The woman was evidently the "boss," but she would not talk about something in which she had no faith.
Him that used to blow 'bout th' wonderful jobs he'd got th' pick of when he was 'time-ex. All he got was 'reeve' of some little shi-poke burg down south. Hooshomin its real name, but they mostly call it Hootch thereabouts. A rotten little dump of 'bout fifty inhabitants. They're drunk half th' time an' wear each other's clothes. Ugh! filthy beggars! . . . He's back on th' Force again.
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