The third sat on
the iron floor, his knees level with his chin, his head in his hand. He
had a sweetheart, perhaps, who loved him, or an old mother who was
wringing her hands at home. This one, I learned afterward, had come with
the last batch and was not yet accustomed to his surroundings; the
others had been awaiting trial for months. All of them wore homespun
clothes--not the ready-made clothes sold at the stores, but those that
some woman at home had cut, basted, and sewn.
Marny asked them what they were up for. Their answers differed slightly
from that of the old man, but the crime and its penalty were the same.
"Makin'," they severally replied.
There was no lowering of the eyelids when they confessed; no hangdog
look about the mouth. They would do it again when they got out, and they
intended to, only they would shoot the quicker next time. The earth was
theirs and the fulness thereof, that part of it which they owned. Their
grandfathers before them had turned their corn into whiskey and no man
had said nay, and so would they.
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