St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1888-09-20
sEKIVERED.''
with kentucky Moonshiners.

Detroit Free Press.
Were | asked to name the races of
the South, l should s W "White,
black and the mOuntaineer." The lat
ter belongs to a distinctive race.
While he may be classed with the
white as far as color goes, his tastes,
his habits, characteristics and mode of
of life arc peculiarly his own. If he
likes you, he will make any sacrifice
to oblige you. If he hates you, he will
seek your life with a determination
which nothing a damp. The great
world beyond his mountain home is a
sealed book to him. He lives in him
self, by himself and for himself.
/ was riding over that spur of the
Cumberland mountains which General
Morgan (Federal) held so g~allantly
while Buell. and Bragg were driving
each other by turns over Kentucky,
when l lost my way. The mountain
trails of the South are dangerous puz-
zles to a stranger. They run mp and
down, twist, turn, dodge, lose them
selves in dark and lonely gaps. There
is a feeling of loneliness which you can
not shake off, and a feeling of anxiety
which rides with you and keeps every
sense alert. Every rod of the trail has
its ambush, and every quarter of a mile
is cliff, seemingly ready to fall upon
you. l came to a spot where three
trails branched away. 1t was luck and
chance. l took one which led me into
a long, dark ~ravine, where the summer
sun has never yet touched h iclcles
on the rugged rocks, nor cooled the
mountain rivulet pouring over the
moss-grOwn lodges. After going a
mile 1 felt that l was wrong, and was
about to turn back, when a voice sud-
denly called out through the semi
darkness:
"~Stranger, you are kivered! Throw
up your hands"
If that command ever reaches your
ears, obey it 1T once and do your argu-
ing subsequently. 1t means your head
OF heart is in point-blank range of bull
let OF b%uckshOt, with a finger resting
on the trigger and ready to pull if you
don't obey the summons.
Up went my hands.
After a long half minute, a noun
t~aineer, who had q dead sight on me
with a double barreled shot gun across
a point of rock twenty feet ahead,
stepped into view on the trail and
said:
stranger, slip down
l slipped off the saddle.
"Now lead yer mule up that ravine
to the right"
straight as an arrow, long-haired,
whiskers unkempt, dress that of a
mOuntaineer. Yes, l saw more. He
held the gun fair for my breast. One
suspicious move on my part and / was
n 1aoI mo He rnnEa i'm a low unIna
but there was that in his tones which
chilled me. Without a second look at
him took the mule by the bits and
led him up the ~ravine. We had not
gone twenty rods before L scented a
whiskey still. At the end of five rods
more we were in a rude camp. Two
moonshiners sat on a log, guns across
their knees, and back of and below
them a still was running off it's extract
of corn.
zone o. them spies! !" said the man
who had followed me as | let go of the
mule and sat down on q stump.
GA good ketch," growled IL of the
~sitters.
"Mighty kind in him to come yere,"
chuckled one of the others.
They were moonshiners, n they
took me for a. spy sent out by the gov
eminent official of that district. l look
ed from one to the other. There was a
determination in each lOok-an impla-
cable sternness of expression which
msniddhaHauVV0rnea AgahJ58
pity-not n line of mercy. A pris-
one at the stake among the Apaches
would have had more hope.
These men were acknowledgements
laws-being hunted after every day in
the year.. The bits of valleys in the
grim old Cumberlands will grow corn
and potatoes. The potatoes are want
ed for the table. If there is more corn
than the razOr-backed hog or the
shackling mule can consume it is a
dead loss. Convey it to market-two
days to 60 and two to come-and sell
it for two bits a bushel, and the owner
and seller would starve on the way.
Make it into a barrel or two of whisky
and it will bring cash on the spot, or
very near it. 1t is not to grow rich
not hoping to better his conditioD-but
simply to live. 1t is against the law
of the land. He is Outlawed and hunt
ed that officials may make fees.
knew all this before l looked into
the stern, set faces around me, and l
knew why l looked in vain for a CLEAN
of mercy.
81 am no spy" L said, as I looked
about me. 81 am a traveller, making
for Cumberland Gap; Pve lost my way"
$50 up that path" commanded the
man who had captured me.
"Not until l satisfy you that l am
not a spy"
"Kiver him, Joe whispered the
man to n of the others, and a shot
gun covered my breast again.
The leader "a back down the ra-
vine to be sure that no one had follow
ed Us. When he returned he said:
"Say yer prayers, stranger! Joe,
when L riz my hand do you plug him ~
"Did any of you ever zeal of Joe
Rickaby 2" asked, trying hard to keep
a steady voice.
"Wall, what if we had ?" asked the
"AbOut a year ago l found him in
jail in B. He had been there for
months. He was sick and out
of money, and | aided him. Here's his
in my note book. See !"
The man with his gun lowered his
weapon and came closer and asked:
"Was anybody in Jail with Joe 2"
eyes half a dozen, all moOnshiners.
| sent in two dollars worth of pipes
and tobacco, and l got one of them
quinine."
"He's the chap, sure's shooting !" ex-
the man, as he turned to the
others. {
"On my soul he is /" added the lead