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Prohibition

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"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."





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