"Some smart guy! You fooled him, huh?" Casino propped his fists on his hips and turned to glare at the little cockney. "He thought you made the whole thing up, huh?"

"Leave off will ya." Goniff had the large copper kettle in his arms and was rocking it back and forth like an injured child. "I told you I was no good at that lyin' stuff!"

"You?" Casino snorted. "Jeeze! You'd lie to St. Peter himself if you thought you'd get anything out of it!" He walked over and picked up another length of copper tubing and started checking it. "This one looks like it could be reused too," he mumbled, almost to himself. "It'll have to be shortened up though 'cause, see, this end here's completely flat."

Goniff tenderly sat the kettle aside and gave it a comforting pat as he considered his teammate's comment about the lying. "Well…, but I'd have that story all worked out ahead a time, wouldn't I? S' only when I get put on the spot…. Blimey!…" the little pick pocket shook his head in disgust. "Specially by the Warden." He started sifting through the dirt and chaff that made up the floor of the dilapidated structure, searching for their washers and nuts. "You really think we can get it goin' again?"

"Don't see why not… He didn't do that much damage."

Considering what could've happened, he thought their little still got off easy. Garrison had knocked one hole right square in the middle of the bottom of the copper kettle, and one end of every segment of tubing had been smashed flat. Other than that, all the parts were there…. Well, they were somewhere within a dozen yards or so of where they'd set up.

"You know," Casino surveyed the stacks of components they'd already gathered and sorted into piles. "It's almost like he didn't really want to shut us down."

"Yeah!" Goniff's mood brightened immediately as he fell in with the pipe-dream Casino was starting to spin. "He could a just lit a bonfire in what's left a this building here and turned all this into slag if he really wanted to…"

Casino stood, considering the raw materials at his feet. "Y' know, if we could get our hands on a bigger pot, like a barrel or somethin', and a few more lengths a pipe we could double distill this stuff."

Goniff scratched at the back of his head. He knew just about everything there was to know about drinkin', but this distilling stuff was all new to him. "What 'r you goin' on about, then?"

"Well, look," Casino dropped down on his haunches, smoothed out a square of dirt and started making a diagram with his finger. "If we rig it so the barrel boils off and collects in here…. And we punch a hole in the side a this container." He did a quick calculation in his head, "Right about here…. Then when there's enough a the stuff it'd overflow into this." He hefted the recently 'modified' copper kettle in his hand and flipped it over. "Look at the hole in the bottom a this thing. It's like it was made perfect just to fit this tubing we already got."

"Yeah?"

"Well, we put a fire under this thing and just repeat the process. See?"

Goniff didn't see,… even though he tried. "What'll that get us?"

"Pure alcohol, baby! 200 proof Kickapoo joy juice!"

"Blimey!" Goniff licked his lips in anticipation. "What'd that taste like, then?"

"Taste?…" Casino scoffed. "You wouldn't drink somethin' like that, you dope! Least not straight out a the still. Stuff that pure'd take the top a your head right off. But it'd sure as hell run an engine!"

Goniff's voice was heavy with disappointment. "But I thought we was goin' brew up a batch a…" And then the little burglar started to laugh. "Bloody Hell! You don't mean t'say I told the Warden the truth?"

Casino chuckled as he considered his teammate and partner. "Looks like you did!"

After a few more moments of mirth Goniff sobered. "But I didn't really want t' make petrol!"

"Don't' worry." Casino clapped him on the shoulder. "We can do both."

Goniff was again puzzled by the details. "How d'we do that, then?"

"Simple." Casino poked his finger in the dirt inside the outline he'd drawn for the second vessel in their new, improved distillery. "We just tap off some a the stuff right here and bottle it up."

"Cor, Blimey!" the pick pocket grinned and hugged his knees. "A endless supply a our own 'private label'!" In the next instant he shot his co-conspirator and pleading look. "It'll taste a bit better than the other stuff… You'r sure a that?"

"Jeeze! I told ya, didn't I? A course it'll taste better 'cause we're leavin' out the manure!"