Sometimes a silent, grim-faced man
holding a shotgun stepped out from behind a white
oak or poplar and stared menacingly or growled,
“That’s far enough, young-uns.”That was our cue to turn around wordlessly and
skedaddle back down the path. There was moonshine
being made up there. We probably missed a few houses,
but we didn’t get shot. A question mark was noted
on the map.