If they only peddled decent whisky it wouldn't be so bad, Ryan.

But it's rank poison.

I've seen so many go stone blind--or die--that it makes me pretty savage sometimes.

So now I'll coach you in the part you're to play as hootch runner; and to-morrow you can start for Los Angeles." Casey did not answer.

He felt absently for his pipe, filled and lighted it and went out to sit on the doorstep in gloomy meditation while he smoked.
Returning to Los Angeles, even without a bootlegger's load, was not a matter which Casey liked to contemplate.