I’m sure happy to see your back has got all right.”
“Oh, it was just a little catch,” Pop says. “Straightened up in no time at all.”
“Well, that’s just fine,” Curly says, real happy about it. “Now, to get back to politics—I don’t aim to run my campaign by knockin’ my opponent, but we got to face facts, men. You ain’t gettin’ the police co-operation you deserve. Your tax money’s bein’ wasted by incompetent men. There’s crooks abroad in this county that ought to be sent up the river so far it’d take nine dollars worth of stamps to mail ’em a postcard, but the Sheriff we got now ain’t able to handle the job. And do you know why?”
“Hmmm,” Uncle Sagamore says. “I reckon we ain’t give it much thought, to be honest about it, but we’d sure be happy to hear what’s wrong.”
“Well, the truth of the matter,” Curly says, “is that the Sheriff’s Department is behind the times. They got no trained men, and no modern scientific equipment. Now, I hate to say this, but did you know in that whole office they ain’t even got a Duckworth Sniffalyzer? Or a man that knows how to operate one?”
“No!” Pop says. “Is that a fact?”
Curly nodded. “I’m sorry to say it is, men. I checked just this morning, and they never even heard of it.”
“Well sir, it just disheartens a man,” Uncle Sagamore says. “You reckon if you was elected, you might be able to send off and get one?”
“Why, it just happens,” Curly said, “I got one right with me. And I’d be glad to demonstrate how it works.”
Uncle Sagamore brightened right up then. “You see,” he says to Pop. “Things is sure goin’ to be different when we get a new Shurf around here.”
Curly went over and got the Sniffalyzer out of the back of the truck. It was a shiny metal box with a carrying handle, and it had a sort of snout in front and a pair of earphones that plugged in. GEIGER COUNTER , it says on the side. Likely that was the name of the company that made ’em. Pop and Murph and Uncle Sagamore watched real interested while Curly turned on the switch. Little clicking sounds begin to come out of the earphones.
“Well sir, she sure looks like a pee-dinger of a machine,” Uncle Sagamore says. “Uh—just what does she do when she’s a-sniffalyzin’?”
“Locates evidence,” Curly says. “By the scientific method. There just ain’t no way in the world anybody can hide moonshine from this thing.”
Uncle Sagamore shook his head. “Well, if’n that don’t beat all.”
Curly put on the ear phones and swung the box around, pointing the snout in different directions. “Too bad there ain’t no moonshine around, so you could watch how it sniffs it out—”
He stopped then, looking kind of thoughtful. He swung the snout of the thing back a little, so it was pointing straight up the hill. “Hmmm,” he says.
“Uh—what’s that?” Uncle Sagamore asked.
“Oh,” Curly says. “I was just about to say I can’t understand that Sheriff at all, not usin’ one of these things. You just can’t fail with ’em—” He stopped again, and kind of frowned, and moved his hand back and forth in front of the snout. “That’s funny. I keep gettin’ a reading, like there was moon around here.”
Uncle Sagamore was flabbergasted. “Well sir,” he says to Pop, “who would of imagined that?”
“Shhhh,” Curly says. He swung the spout some more, and listened, and then moved about ten feet to one side. “She’s there, all right. Now, we triangulate the intake to the gargle-binder—hmmmm—” He swung the snout, and listened again. It was still pointing uphill. Then he nodded. He switched off the machine and went over and put it back in the truck, and lit one of his cigars.
“You can’t fool it,” he says. “Not in a hundred years. And that’s just one of the scientific instruments I intend to lay in, men, soon as I’m elected—”
Pop and Uncle Sagamore looked at each other.
“Oh, it was just a little catch,” Pop says. “Straightened up in no time at all.”
“Well, that’s just fine,” Curly says, real happy about it. “Now, to get back to politics—I don’t aim to run my campaign by knockin’ my opponent, but we got to face facts, men. You ain’t gettin’ the police co-operation you deserve. Your tax money’s bein’ wasted by incompetent men. There’s crooks abroad in this county that ought to be sent up the river so far it’d take nine dollars worth of stamps to mail ’em a postcard, but the Sheriff we got now ain’t able to handle the job. And do you know why?”
“Hmmm,” Uncle Sagamore says. “I reckon we ain’t give it much thought, to be honest about it, but we’d sure be happy to hear what’s wrong.”
“Well, the truth of the matter,” Curly says, “is that the Sheriff’s Department is behind the times. They got no trained men, and no modern scientific equipment. Now, I hate to say this, but did you know in that whole office they ain’t even got a Duckworth Sniffalyzer? Or a man that knows how to operate one?”
“No!” Pop says. “Is that a fact?”
Curly nodded. “I’m sorry to say it is, men. I checked just this morning, and they never even heard of it.”
“Well sir, it just disheartens a man,” Uncle Sagamore says. “You reckon if you was elected, you might be able to send off and get one?”
“Why, it just happens,” Curly said, “I got one right with me. And I’d be glad to demonstrate how it works.”
Uncle Sagamore brightened right up then. “You see,” he says to Pop. “Things is sure goin’ to be different when we get a new Shurf around here.”
Curly went over and got the Sniffalyzer out of the back of the truck. It was a shiny metal box with a carrying handle, and it had a sort of snout in front and a pair of earphones that plugged in. GEIGER COUNTER , it says on the side. Likely that was the name of the company that made ’em. Pop and Murph and Uncle Sagamore watched real interested while Curly turned on the switch. Little clicking sounds begin to come out of the earphones.
“Well sir, she sure looks like a pee-dinger of a machine,” Uncle Sagamore says. “Uh—just what does she do when she’s a-sniffalyzin’?”
“Locates evidence,” Curly says. “By the scientific method. There just ain’t no way in the world anybody can hide moonshine from this thing.”
Uncle Sagamore shook his head. “Well, if’n that don’t beat all.”
Curly put on the ear phones and swung the box around, pointing the snout in different directions. “Too bad there ain’t no moonshine around, so you could watch how it sniffs it out—”
He stopped then, looking kind of thoughtful. He swung the snout of the thing back a little, so it was pointing straight up the hill. “Hmmm,” he says.
“Uh—what’s that?” Uncle Sagamore asked.
“Oh,” Curly says. “I was just about to say I can’t understand that Sheriff at all, not usin’ one of these things. You just can’t fail with ’em—” He stopped again, and kind of frowned, and moved his hand back and forth in front of the snout. “That’s funny. I keep gettin’ a reading, like there was moon around here.”
Uncle Sagamore was flabbergasted. “Well sir,” he says to Pop, “who would of imagined that?”
“Shhhh,” Curly says. He swung the spout some more, and listened, and then moved about ten feet to one side. “She’s there, all right. Now, we triangulate the intake to the gargle-binder—hmmmm—” He swung the snout, and listened again. It was still pointing uphill. Then he nodded. He switched off the machine and went over and put it back in the truck, and lit one of his cigars.
“You can’t fool it,” he says. “Not in a hundred years. And that’s just one of the scientific instruments I intend to lay in, men, soon as I’m elected—”
Pop and Uncle Sagamore looked at each other.
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