PROHIBITION

"Talking about dry towns, have you ever been in Leavenworth, Kansas?"

asked the commercial traveler in the smoking-car. "No? Well, that's a

dry town for you, all right."



"They can't sell liquor at all there?" asked one of the men.



"Only if you had been bitten by a snake," said the drummer. "They have

only one snake in town, and when I got to it the other day after

standing in line for nearly half a day it was too tired to bite."





It was prohibition country. As soon as the train pulled up, a seedy

little man with a covered basket on his arm hurried to the open windows

of the smoker and exhibited a quart bottle filled with rich, dark fluid.



"Want to buy some nice cold tea?" he asked, with just the suspicion of a

wink.



Two thirsty-looking cattlemen brightened visibly, and each paid a dollar

for a bottle.



"Wait until you get outer the station before you take a drink," the

little man cautioned them. "I don't wanter get in trouble."



He found three other customers before the train pulled out, in each case

repeating his warning.



"You seem to be doing a pretty good business," remarked a man who had

watched it all. "But I don't see why you'd run any more risk of getting

in trouble if they took a drink before the train started."



"Ye don't, hey? Well, what them bottles had in 'em, pardner, was real

cold tea."