I like to hear old men tell about moonshiners, whose clever outwitting of a law that offended their sense of landowners' rights got a lot of them through hard times.

One night I sat with two old hunters, who got each other started on moonshine-making stories. They had been children in the depression of the 1930cs and both of their fathers had made "a little dew money" to get by.

The story one of them told was too good not to be told again:

"Well, we was all pretty much related up and down the creek. The sheriff, Ben Hagen, was Dad's own cousin.

"He said to Daddy, 'Now Arly, I'm bound to uphold the law, and I aim to. If you are stilling, don't let me catch you, for I'll take you in same as anybody.'

"Daddy says, 'Ben, you'll not catch me.' And of course that come out like a double-dog dare to old Ben, because they'd been boys together.

"Ben, just purely set to chivvy Daddy, turned up at all hours lookin' for smoke, smellin' for mash, tryin' to find jugs in the haystacks.

"We always had hounds, but they was used to Ben and he'd sneak up on us any time he chose to surprise Daddy. We had a big guard dog named Rip chained to a little lean-to, and he was mean as he looked. Ben stayed outside his chain's reach so Rip couldn't get a hold of him. He'd sure enough try though, growling like a saw mill.

"Ben told Daddy, 'Someday ol' Rip's gonna pull loose and I'll have to kill 'em.' And Daddy just grinned and said, 'Or vicey-versy, Ben.'

"Well Ben, he done his best to catch Daddy with liquor for near five years, and never found a drop. Daddy could stay ahead of a fox hound. One time Ben came up on us while we were huntin' and seized a jug Daddy was toting.

"'Gotcha!' he says, but t'wasn't nothing but our water jug and Daddy laughed fit to bust and finally so did Ben. They always stayed friends.

"Then finally, prohibition ended and times got better. Daddy quit makin' any liquor except for socializin' and Ben quit sheriffin'. One day, Ben stopped by to pass the time of day and he says, 'Arly, I know you made shine and so does everyone in the county, but for six years or so, I turned every rock and log on this farm, hunting to find where you put it. I rode over here because I purely can't stand it another day! Where'd you hide it?'

"Daddy grinned at him real big. 'Well Ben,' he says, 'I guess it couldn't hurt now. That old dog's name was RIP which stood for 'Rest In Peace' which I done, because they wasn't no way you were going to dig up that old rascal's bed.'"