Carrying a common wash tub full of newly-made corn whiskey down a steep hill in Durham township, near where Eno river crosses the Guess road, two ebony-hued gentlemen who have dedicated their lives to the vocation of suppling Durham “scofflaws” with the illegal cup that cheers, gently eased their precious burden to the ground to wipe the moisture from their brows. That end of the journey was in sight; they paused for a rest.
One of the negroes caught sight of a figure moving in the underbrush in the distance. He looked again, and his eyes dilated. For even though several hundred yards separated him from the on-coming figure, he recognized him as Deputy Will Hall. With a muttered imprecation he grabbed his companion’s arm. Both negroes looked intently into the distance and this time two figures were seen approaching, instantly recognizable as gentlemen not entirely sympathetic with liquor-making. For an instant the two negroes looked at each other, with fright widening their eyes. Then, simultaneously, they wheeled, upsetting the tub, and began a dash that Joie Ray or Charlie Paddock would not have sniffed it.
The two gentlemen who threw such a fright into the negroes were Deputies Belvin and Hall, quite genial fellows when seen on Main street. To those two negroes, who made their get-away, however, the deputies were as welcome as a ku klucker would be in the Vatican.
Continuing their journey, the deputies found the source of the negroes’ liquor, a new 35-gallon still, in which the last “charge” had been placed. The still was running in full blast. It was cut down and brought to the county jail.
From page 9 of the Durham Morning Herald, March 23, 1924
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