He turned to the others.
“You know anybody he can find this time of night, Doc?”
“Luke might,” the third said.
“Where does he live?” Gowan said.
“Go on,” the first said.
“I’ll show you.”
They crossed the square and drove out of town about a half mile.
“This is the road to Taylor, isn’t it?” Gowan said.
“Yes,” the first said.
“I’ve got to drive down there early in the morning,” Gowan said.
“Got to get there before the special does.
You gentlemen not going to the game, you say.”
“I reckon not,” the first said.
“Stop here.”
A steep slope rose, crested by stunted blackjacks.
“You wait here,” the first said.
Gowan switched off the lights.
They could hear the other scrambling up the slope.
“Does Luke have good liquor?” Gowan said.
“Pretty good.
Good as any, I reckon,” the third said.
“If you dont like it, you dont have to drink it,” Doc said.
Gowan turned fatly and looked at him.
“It’s as good as that you had tonight,” the third said.
“You didn’t have to drink that, neither,” Doc said.
“They cant seem to make good liquor down here like they do up at school,” Gowan said.
“Where you from?” the third said.
“Virgin——oh, Jefferson.
I went to school at Virginia.
Teach you how to drink, there.”
The other two said nothing.
The first returned, preceded by a minute shaling of earth down the slope.
He had a fruit jar. Gowan lifted it against the sky.
It was pale, innocent looking.
He removed the cap and extended it.
“Drink.”
The first took it and extended it to them in the rumble.
“Drink.”
The third drank, but Doc refused.
Gowan drank.
“Good God,” he said, “how do you fellows drink this stuff?”
“We dont drink rotgut at Virginia,” Doc said.
Gowan turned in the seat and looked at him.
“Shut up, Doc,” the third said.
“Dont mind him,” he said.
“He’s had a bellyache all night.”
“Son bitch,” Doc said.
“Did you call me that?” Gowan said.
“ ’Course he didn’t,” the third said.
“Doc’s all right.