Basil, Don and Dudley, the well-known bootleggers, armed with shovels, climbed over the high gate into the open field.

Treading carefully, stepping over every twig and looking here and there for dogs, which they could hear barking, they moved south.

All the cash for distribution and some expensive looking stones had been pooled from various deals. They were now going to bury them under a bush.

Eyes furtively glancing around watching for dogs, they arrived at the south end of the field.

"Lets keep some of the stones", said Don, who was not being too bright on such a matter.

"That's stealing!" said Dudley fleetingly.

"Not a shilling Don", aware that it was not theirs to keep. "You can do very well without for now until we can find a new market for a sale".

"Ha yes!" "Rich Monday, poor Tuesday!" I wish I knew what these stones were worth in gold", said Don with a shrug.

By then Don had started to dig, throwing earth into a nearby wheelbarrow.

"Look yonder by those gates!"

Heads turned and all were quick to react on Basil's word - "run!"

Cornering the field, which was a mere half and acre, were the police pouring in from every entrance.

The lads were hooked, the festive season was over!

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