"You sure must have had so-ome jag, Casey," they told him exuberantly.
"I was sober," Casey testified earnestly.

"I'll swear I hadn't a drop of anything worse than lemon soda, and that was before I left town." Whereupon they whooped the louder, bent double, some of them with mirth.
"Say! If I was drunk that night, I'd say so," Casey exploded finally.
"What the hell--what's the matter with you rabbits?
You think Casey Ryan has got to the point where he's scared to tell what he done and all he done?
Lemme tell yuh, anything Casey does he ain't afraid to _tell_ about! Lyin' is something I never was scared bad enough to do.

You ask anybody." "There's the widow," said the foreman, wiping his eyes.
Casey turned and looked, but the widow was not in sight.

The foreman, he judged, was speaking figuratively.

He swung back glaring.
"You think I'm scared to tell her what happened?
She'll know I was sober if I say I was sober.