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"Bill Kyler um-m," said the lady. "And where does he get it?" "Dennis O'Day, the man what owns the brewery and the wholesale house, sells to him. Big Bill drives down in the afternoon and comes home after dark." "Each Saturday, you say?" asked the woman. "Yes'm." During the conversation, Elizabeth had also been emptying her lunch-box.
"The little tugs must make a noise or they may be run down, but the big liners are confident of their own power and so is everyone." But Elizabeth had not heard this last remark. She was leaning eagerly forward listening to the conversation among the others. Judge Wilson was explaining to those who were interested what Big Bill Kyler had done to justify a year and a half in jail.
"There are too many people watching him, eager to find him overstepping the letter of the law. I can promise you, Mrs. Koons, that he or his friend, Bill Kyler, will not be long at either Gleasonton or Italee. But come, let us dispose of the lunch while the babies are taking care of themselves." She had arranged the repast as daintily as her surroundings would permit.
Her bein' a woman and trustin'-like, mebbe, is what makes it easy to deceive her." "Oh, they do deceive her, then?" "Yes'm. There hain't no drinkin' places open public-like. A stranger couldn't go in there and buy a glass of anything; but them what's known can get pretty much what they want." "Someone keeps a speak-easy?" "Yes'm. Big Bill Kyler gets it every week, and the men get what they want."
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