It was a half-pint flask, and it was full when Casey, with Joe's eyes fixed upon him, tilted it and began to drink.

Under Joe's baleful glare Casey emptied the flask before he stopped.
Joe settled his shoulders comfortably against the doorway and watched Casey make for the water bucket.
"I claim that's the out-kickin'est stuff that ever was made on Black Butte.

How'd yuh like it ?" "All right," Casey bore witness, keeping his eyes fixed on Joe and the gun and trying his best to maintain a nonchalant manner.

"I'd call it purty fair hootch." "It's GOOD hootch!" Joe declared impressively, apparently quite convinced that Casey was not a Federal officer.

"Can yuh feel the kick'to it ?" Casey backed until he sat on the edge of the table his good right hand supporting his left elbow outside the sling.