by: Karen Campbell

Harlan and Jason, who’d followed Boss’s white caddy out to the farm, had hung
back until the patrol cars had gone their separate ways. Now, with Enos after the Transam and Justice after the race car, they felt the odds were on their side. They spotted the white Cadillac and the eighteen wheeler rounding a curve ahead. “A piece of cake,” Harlan chuckled low in his throat. “They can’t maneuver in that big boat. Hell, they ain’t even got a roof to protect them!”
Jason chewed his lip nervously. “Yeah, but Harlan, they’s smokeys too, plain
wrapper or not. You really think–”
Harlan’s patience snapped. “Well, what do you think we oughtta do? Just drive
up nice ‘n say, please officers, can we have what’s in that there truck? We’s the FBI, don’t you know we’s incognito! This close to paydirt and you lose your nerve? I oughtta–”
“Now, take it easy, Harlan! I ain’t losing my nerve, I’m just bein’ cautious. Now
you get me up there an’ I’ll get both of ’em out of the way, easier ‘n shooing a couple of
flies off an ol’ hound dog.” He checked his pistol carefully as they drew up on the Cadillac.
“I ain’t that partial to witnesses neither.”

Boss and Rosco were still sniggering. “Whupped your ass real good!” cackled
Boss. “I wish I’d thought of that! I oughtta give that little lady a medal after you throw
her in jail.”
“I’ll bet that Justice blew a gasket when he heard that! I’m surprised the roof of
that patrol car didn’t blow clean off! Khee! Khee!”
They were laughing so hard they never even heard the shot. Suddenly the
windshield between them cobwebbed to the rims.
“Rosco, you road apple! Watch them dang stones! Look what you did to my
windshield! That’s comin’ outta your pay!”
Rosco’s jaw dropped at the sight of the neat, round little hole in the centre of the
cobweb. “Boss, that weren’t no stone, that’s a–”
Boss had realized it too. “Duck!” he shouted, pushing Rosco down as a second
bullet zinged past and lodged in the truck’s loading bay door.

In the cab, Daisy and the Bandit heard the shots and saw the blue sedan with its
menacing sniper. Daisy grabbed the CB. “Boss, Rosco, are you all right? Who’s–”

Boss and Rosco heard no more as Jason, leaning out of the window for a higher
vantage point, fired off a bullet that smashed their CB. “We can’t call Enos!” Boss
moaned. “We can’t call nobody!”
“We’ll be callin’ St. Peter in a minute if we don’t think of somethin’,” Rosco
muttered, scrunched down in the seat and still trying to drive.

Jason laughed. “I got their CB, Harlan! Ain’t gonna be no reinforcements!”
“Good job! Give ’em a shout for me then–gimme that snow or I’ll drive right on
over ’em to get it!”

Boss and Rosco looked at each other. “Did that fella say “gimme the dough?”
shouted Rosco over the roar of the respective engines.
“No, he said–aaargh!” A bullet sheared off the radio antenna. “Rosco, we gotta
fight back! We’re sittin’ ducks!”
“Well, what did you have in mind?” Whatever it was, Rosco knew he wasn’t going
to like it.
“You got your pistol, ain’t you?”
“…well, yeah…”
“Then start shootin’!”
“But Boss, I’m drivin'”
“Not anymore you ain’t! Get over!”
“Over where?” Rosco yelped as Boss’s fat white body started steamrolling overtop
of him. “I’m over about as far as I can get!”
“I mean get over the headrest and into the back seat! Shoot from behind like the
Yankees used to when they was running away!”
“Are you kiddin’ me, Boss? I ain’t goin’ over no seat! I–ow!” Rosco saw that it
was a choice between shooting and suffocation. He decided he’d take his chances with the
gunman.

Harlan and Jason stared as Rosco clambered over into the backseat and hunkered
down. Jason was so astonished he forgot to fire. “What’s that crazy Sheriff doin’?”
Rosco popped up with his gun drawn and took a bead on Jason. Spitting an oath,
Jason ducked back into the car as Rosco’s bullet plonked against the side mirror. “Damn!
I shoulda blown his head off when I had the chance!”
Rosco crowed in triumph. “Think I’m just a hick sheriff, do ya? Well, I can part
your hair anytime, boy!” He aimed again, but toppled sideways as Boss swerved the car
with a jerk. “Boss! How’m I supposed to fire with you careerin’ this veehicle all over the
road!”
“I’m tryin’ to keep your fool head from gettin’ one more hole in it, that’s all!” Boss
roared. He spotted a side-road up ahead. “Hang on, Rosco. We’re gonna pretend we’re
the Duke boys and they’re the sheriff!” Rosco barely had time to protest as the big white
cadillac turned sharply and skidded down a dirt road through the bush, leaving the sedan
to chase the transport into the hills.
“Boss!” Rosco protested. “What the heck are you doin’? Just when I had ’em on
the run! Now they’re gonna get that truck!”
“No they ain’t! Not if I know Daisy Duke. She’ll find some way to shake ’em.
We’ll catch up with her when those city fellas are good ‘n lost. Now I wonder what it was
that they was–”
A loud bang ripped the air as the front tire exploded. The caddy slid to a halt by
the side of the road as Rosco nearly flew out over the trunk. “Boss! Get down! They got
us! We’ll have to make a last stand!”
As the dust settled, Boss turned off the ignition and sat peering over at the fender,
panting from the exertion of the past few minutes. “No, it’s okay, Rosco. We musta hit a
rock or somethin’. It’s just a flat tire.”
“Praise the Lord.” Rosco sighed with relief as he picked himself up off the trunk.
“But your spare tire back here done got mashed when Sheriff Justice rear-ended us. It
ain’t no good to us.”
Boss was still too happy to be alive to notice, and started giggling in hysterical
relief. “Holy Hannah, Rosco, I ain’t had so much fun since Jesse and I was runnin’ shine all
those years ago! There’s a whole lotta ridgerunner left in me yet!”
Rosco walked unsteadily ’round the car, clutching the side for support, while
Boss’s hysteria ran its course. “You know, I prefer riding inside a veehicle, Boss,
not on top of it. Dang circus stunts gonna make Flash an orphan one of these days.” He
squatted down by the side of the shredded tire and shook his head. “It’s done blown up
like a penny-piece of bubble gum, little fat buddy. With the CB all busted too looks like
we’re stuck here t’ill somebody comes along.”
“Oh…oh ho ho…whew…what a run. Whatever that is that them drifters is hauling,
it must be worth a fortune to be worth that much bother. What could it be?”
“I don’t know, Boss. You heard it better than I did. You said it weren’t dough.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was something unusual…it was…it was…” suddenly Boss’s eyes
went wide. “No, it couldn’t be! But…but his name– it is! Sheriff Justice in the
office…the big secret…it all makes sense!”
Rosco was still waiting for the translation. “What does?”
“The Bandit and the Snowman! Rosco, them boys ain’t hauling Coors
beer! They’re hauling snow!”
“Snow, Boss?” Rosco asked, wondering whether his little fat buddy’s brain had
been jarred by the wild ride. “Is-is there a lot a call for that?”
“Are you kidding? A lot folks’d kill for it. Usually it’s brought in through
Mexico, but sometimes they bring it down outta Canada.”
“Well…well, I can see ‘em bringing it out of Canada, Boss, I mean that’s all they
got there, 12 months of the year, but…Mexico? Are you sure? Seems to me Mexico’d be
too hot for-“
Boss rolled his eyes. “Not snow as in Christmastime, you cowchip! I mean
cocaine! They’re smugglin’ drugs!” His beady eyes suddenly widened in recognition.
“Rosco…do you remember that APB out of Dallas about a week ago? The one about that
huge haul of cocaine that the Dallas vice squad took in that raid?”
“Dallas? Oh, yeah!” Rosco snapped his fingers as it all came back to him. “And
then it got stole right back out of the Dallas police headquarters again! Boy, that was a
mess. All that new-fangled computer alarm systems ‘n laser beams an’ it still got took,
right there in the police station. Them big city Dallas boys might look down their noses at
us country folks, but they ain’t got much call to, have they, Boss?”
“No, they sure ain’t. An’ who knows where all that cocaine went? These boys
that Sheriff Justice is chasin’ was makin’ a run out of Dallas. Chances are they’re the
ones that took that snow!”
“Ooh! Yeah! But…” Rosco paused. “But why would Sheriff Justice want to keep
that a secret from us? Why wouldn’t he want us to help him catch them boys?”
“How should I know? Maybe he’s got something agin’ ’em. Wants to catch ’em
hisself, wants the glory all to hisself, I suppose. But he knows, Rosco. He knows that at
this very minute there’s drugs being trafficked in Hazzard County!”
Rosco let out a long, slow breath as he realized the implication. “Drugs in
Hazzard…it’s finally happened. Boss, I’m tellin’ you, I prayed we’d be spared this, but if
it’s finally come to us, I ain’t gonna lie down an’ take it. Nobody’s gonna be dealin’ in no
drugs in Hazzard County! ”
“You got that right. There are some things just more trouble than they’re worth,
and drugs is one of ‘em. And another is them dang Duke boys!”
“Yeah!” Rosco clutched the brim of his hat angrily, then looked thoughtful. “But
Boss, you don’t really think the Duke boys would be mixed up in this, do you? I mean,
runnin’ shine is one thing, but drugs! It’s un-American! And ol’ Jesse’d never stand for
it!”
“Well, maybe Jesse don’t know about it. Not likely they’d tell him, is it?”
Rosco wasn’t convinced. “I suppose not…I’d better get on to the FBI in Atlanta,
anyhow.”
“The FBI? Rosco, we ain’t tellin’ no FBI!”
“We ain’t?”
“No.” Boss scowled. “You really want the FBI down here, pokin’ into our
private business? Maybe findin’ out all kinds of other things we don’t want them findin’
out about?”
“Ooh!” Rosco shivered visibly. “Yeah, that’d really be puttin’ a skunk in the
hen-house. But Boss, we gotta do somethin’ about all them drugs!”
“And we will, Rosco. We’ll just confiscate that there cocaine ourselves and turn it
over to the state police. There’s likely to be a big reward if we do!”
The sheriff wasn’t convinced. “I don’t like it, Boss. I can’t understand why a man
with your smarts would want to play around with drug runners. It’s like hunting a
mountain lion with a pea-shooter!”
“Oh, quit your whining, Rosco! Just get on and find Daisy Duke and that truck!”
“Boss, how’m I gonna do that? I just told you we’re stranded.”
“You got yourself a thumb, ain’t you?
Rosco drew himself up. “Boss, I am the sheriff of this county! I am beneath
hitchhikin’! Anyhow, do you really want to stay out here by yourself with them two fellas
cruisin’ around, lookin’ for a target?”
Boss flinched, but his greed overtook his fear. “Well, gimme your pistol, then.
You just hightail it back to town and get your patrol car so you can get after ’em. Then
when we get that reward, I just might give you fifty percent of fifty percent.”
Rosco had heard this song before. “Whatever that is, it ain’t gonna be enough,” he
muttered as he stomped off down the road.

Luke and the Snowman leading Enos in the opposite direction, were missing all the
fun. In the back seat of the transam, Fred was gnawing at the case of Coors. He ripped
the box open and snuffed eagerly inside.
“Fred, you ol’ fool, you can’t still be hungry after eatin’ all them biscuits! Leave
them beers alone now.” The Snowman reached back to grab Fred, and noticed that the
box was only half-filled with beer cans. Fred hefted out a thick grey bundle of packing
material from the centre of the box and began to worry it. “What the…Fred, what’ve you
got there? What’s somebody gone and done with all my beers? Leggo, Fred, I wanna see
that thing.”
“What is it?” asked Luke, trying not to take his eyes off the road.
“Damned if I know, Luke! I ain’t never heard of nobody puttin’ packin’ in with
beers before!”
Luke’s eyes narrowed and he stole a glance beside him at Cledus’ tug of war with
the basset hound. Cledus finally tore the bundle free and stared at the wet, jagged hole
Fred had torn in the sack. “They’s some kinda white stuff in here, Luke.” Poking his
fingers in, he licked at the white powder that stuck to them. “Well, it ain’t flour, and it
ain’t sugar! What the hell is this?”
Luke’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. “My Lord. It’s 20 years in the federal
pen, that’s what! Snowman, what are you trying to pull?”
Cledus was scared now. “What do you mean?”
“That there’s the real thing, Snowman! It’s cocaine! So that’s what you and the
Bandit’s been runnin’ all this time!”
The Snowman was horrified; he looked at the sack as though it were a time bomb.
“Luke, I swear-as Jesus is my witness, we thought them crates was fulla beer! We’d never
a touched ‘em if we’d thought-“ The wail of Enos’ siren brought him up short. “Oh my
Lord…that smokey’s right behind us! Luke, we gotta ditch this stuff or we’s gonna be
lookin’ at the same ceilin’ for a mighty long time!”
Luke ground his teeth. “We’ll throw it into Miller’s creek as we go ‘round the
bend up yonder. Then you got some explainin’ to do!”
There was no time to lose. As the car swerved back and forth, the Snowman
arched back and fished out the rest of the packing bundles. “Fred, git out! Don’t eat that!
It’ll rot whatever little brain you got!” He grunted as he hefted out the last sack. “That’s
it, Luke. Where’s this creek?”
“Comin’ right up. Don’t miss it now.”
The Snowman jerked his window down at frantic speed as thy sailed ‘round a
curve, temporarily out of Enos’ view. As they rattled over the ruts to the rickety wooden
bridge spanning the creek, the Snowman stuck his long arm out of the window.
“Now!” cried Luke, and Cledus hurled the packets deep into the roiling stream as
they roared over the bridge. A moment later, Enos tore ‘round the bend, but never looked
at the grey bundles, bobbing and sinking in the water.
Breathing heavily, the Snowman watched them whirl away. “They’s gone, Lukas.
That smokey didn’t see nothin’.”
“Yeah, well, I did! You listen to me, Snowman. There ain’t never been no Duke
that had anythin’ to do with drugs. So you start talkin’, or I’ll turn you in myself!”
“Luke, Luke, I swear! I’m just a poor CB jockey tryin’ to make a livin’ -an honest
lving’, that’s all. The Bandit an’ me, the only time we ever done anythin’ illegal was when
we was runnin’ Coors into Georgia. Hell, even you Dukes ran shine!”
“So what about that cocaine? How’d it get in that case?”
“I don’t know, Luke! Like we told you, we done picked it up in Dallas, just like
we was told. Never thought to check it.”
Luke was remembering a water heater he and Bo had once picked up, packaged
with sacks full of marijuana. He looked at the Snowman’s stricken face. “So you’re
saying you was set up? Or bein’ used as a transport? You didn’t know about no cocaine,
is that it?”
“Are you kiddin’ me, Luke? I got me a wife and four little kids at home. Look at
the pictures in my wallet if you don’t believe me. Am I gona do this to them? Let alone
ol’ Fred here?”
Luke couldn’t help grinning at that. “Well–” He glanced in his rearview mirror at
the basset hound and saw that the dog had something else in his mouth: a long piece of
lavender cloth. “Hey, speaking of Fred-what’s he got hold of now?”
“What? Fred, what’s that? Give that here. Looks like Miss Frog’s underwear.
Aw, Bandit, you dirty devil, you.” He plucked the soggy cloth from Fred’s jaws. “Hey,
this ain’t no underwear! It’s some fancypants’ handkerchief with the letters JJ sewed on
the bottom. Well, ain’t that just precious!”
“JJ…that ain’t your initials, or the Bandit’s.”
“No, they ain’t. Sheriff Justice’s last name starts with J, but his first name is
Buford.”
Luke looked thoughtful. “Cledus…what’s his son’s name?”
“His son? Calls him Junior most of the time, but I think Frog said…now let me
recollect now…” the trucker’s eyes widened. “Joseph! Joseph Justice! That cornball son
of his! That’s who owns this here hanky!”
Luke nodded, his suspicions confirmed. “Hang onto it, Snowman. It’s evidence.
Now we know how you all came to be hauling a load of coke. Looks like Sheriff Justice
wants you and the Bandit in jail bad enough to break the law himself.”
The Snowman swore softly. “I’d never a thought it. I mean, I knew he was crazy,
but I never thought-“
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be the first good ol’ boy to be set up by a crooked law
man.” Luke smiled at him. “Sorry, Snowman. Guess I read you wrong.”
“Well, I guess that was the whole idea, wasn’t it? Don’t worry about it, Luke.
We gotta worry about warning ol’ Bandit that he’s carrying a truckload of hot snow!”
“You got that right. And I didn’t get that chance to make Enos try ‘n jump that
creek. I better figure out another way to-Holy Smokes!”
They had rounded another curve, to see a huge haywagon looming in front of
them, jackknifed sideways across the road. Luke spun the wheel and pumped the brakes
as they fishtailed wildly. They slid to a stop inches from the wagon. Luke swore softly.
“Old man Mortimer shoulda never traded in his mules for that pick-up! He takes them
curves too dang fast!”
Enos had managed to stop a little more easily. He got out and headed over to the
transam. Peeking in the window, he giggled in surprise. “Hello there, Mr. Basset Hound!
Possum on a gumbush, almost thought you was Flash for a minute there!” His grin faded
as he saw the Coors. “So the Sheriff was right. Luke Duke, shame on you. You oughtta
know better than that.”
“Luke, you better make a run for it,” whispered Cledus Snow. “I can’t take off
and leave ol’ Fred here.”
“I ain’t leaving you, Snowman. It ain’t the Duke way to run out on a friend.
We’ll just play along ‘til the time’s right.” They eased themselves out of the car, and the
Snowman reached back for Fred. When he stood up and got his first good look at Enos,
he stared for a moment. “’Scuse me, Deputy, but…y’all ever go on motorcycle patrol?”
Enos’s face was blank. “No sir. Always been in the patrol car.”
“Y’all got yourself a twin?”
“No sir.”
The Snowman shook his head. “I’m sorry. Got stopped by an Evil Kneival at the
Georgia border once. Sure did look like y’all. Didn’t have y’all’s manners, though.”
Enos brightened. “Thank you kindly, Mister. I appreciate that.”
Luke, the Snowman and Fred settled resignedly into the back seat of the patrol car.
As Enos got behind the wheel and glanced in the rear-view mirror, he let out another
high-pitched giggle. “Boy, Mister, if that there basset hound of yours don’t look like
Flash!”
“Flash?”
“Don’t worry,” sighed Luke. It looks like you’ll get to meet her real soon.”

“Enos! Enos!” Daisy cried into the CB. “Deputy Enos Strate, where are you?
Oh, dang it, Luke must have led him out of range!”
“Can you raise the General Lee?”
“That’d only bring Sheriff Justice back too, wouldn’t it? He probably hired them
city dudes!”
The Bandit shook his head. “I don’t think so, darlin’. Sheriff Justice doesn’t trust
his own mamma. Nope, these road pirates are workin’ for themselves. Looks like your
friends in the white caddy got away, though. Turned down a little bitty sideroad a couple
of miles back. Sure wish we could.”
Daisy pulled her long hair back, trying to mentally picture every inch of the terrain.
“Now this here is ridge road–our Uncle Jesse told alot of stories about this place, and
how he fooled them revenuers…there was something about…” she sat up, eyes shining.
“Bandit! Look up ahead!”
The Bandit squinted through the bright sunlight that streamed into the cab. “All I
see up ahead is a tunnel, Daisy honey. Surely you ain’t gonna suggest we hide in there?”
“Mr. Bandit, trust me. If you’re as good a driver as you been braggin’ on, these
fellas are as good as lost.”
The dark-haired cowboy grinned at her with a twinkle in his brown eyes.
“Nobody’s that good a driver, darlin’. But I’ll try!”

Jason and Harlan saw the truck vanish into the dark shadow of the tunnel up
ahead. Loading his clip with an angry thrust, Jason leaned forward to get a better view.
“The minute we get out of that tunnel, Jason, I’m gonna try to pull up alongside
’em so you can get off a good shot to the wheel. But remember, this time we gotta leave
witnesses, to take the rap.”
“I got you, partner.”
With a whoosh the world was eclipsed in darkness as they shot into the pitch black
tunnel. Alarmed, Harlan flicked the headlights on. “No overhead lightin’! What the hell
kind of cheapo county is this, anyway?”
The tip of Jason’s cigarette glowed an eerie red in the darkness. He reached
nervously to tap it in the ashtray of the lit-up dashboard. “Sure is strange, ain’t it?”
Harlan peered ahead. “I can’t see their tail-lights. Can you?”
“I can’t see nothin.’ but our headlights. Watch it, the road’s curvin’.” Up ahead
blazed a white arch of daylight.
“Get ready, Jason.”
Jason through his cigarette out the window and leaned out, gun drawn, as the
sedan shot out into the blinding sunshine. He blinked and squinted at the long, straight
road ahead. “Harlan! Harlan, they’re gone!”
Harlan was staring too, unable to believe his eyes. He stared at the grey ribbon of
road’till his eyes watered. “They can’t be gone! Where could they go! There ain’t no
turnoff!
“An the scrubby bush here couldn’t hide a scooter, much less a rig that size!
Harlan, they musta doubled back!”
“If they had forty-five minutes to do it in, sure! They couldn’t turn that rig on a
dime, you fool! Nobody could!”
Jason scratched his windblown head. “Then where the devil did they go?”
“I don’t know!” Harlan punched the steering wheel with both fists, ignoring the
pain. “Damn backwoods hicks! All moonshine runners, know every trick in the book!
Come on, Jason, let’s not waste our time. I gotta find me someplace to think.”
Jason slid carefully back into the sedan as they abandoned their hopeless search.

Daisy clung tightly to the seat, wishing she’d never suggested this. In the old days,
Uncle Jesse had manouvered a car down this roller-coaster of a slope, not a ten ton truck.
She wondered whether she’d ever see her Uncle Jesse again.
The walls of the steep track towered above them like the Red Sea over the fleeing
Israelites as Daisy and the Bandit hurtled down the deadly incline into Hidden Canyon.
Beside her, the Bandit’s one lean arm was wrapped around the wheel, the other wrestling
with the gear shift. His dark eyes were glued on the road ahead.
“There’s a sharp turn ahead, Mr. Bandit! Watch out!”
“I see it, darlin’!” His boot slammed the brake to the floor and held it there as both
hands now fought to drag the big steering wheel. Daisy grabbed a spoke and heaved ’til
her knuckles turned white. The big truck rattled ’round the curve, screaming in protest as
the trailer straightened out.
“We gotta slow down! The trailor’s pushing us!”
“I know it! Don’t worry, Daisy!” Incredably, he grinned. He was enjoying this!
“If I have to I’ll just jump out ‘n dig my heels in ’til we stop!”
Daisy laughed in spite of herself. “You ain’t a Bandit, you’re a Madman! Now I’m
serious! Get us stopped!”
“Yes, ma’am!” The Bandit began to pump the brakes. He and Daisy lurched
against their seatbelts as the truck’s momentum started to break up, little by little. At last
they shot out onto a narrow straight strip alongside a river, rocketing forward like a jet
landing on a runway. The Bandit pumped and pumped until finally the truck slowed to
breathable pace, and stopped, trembling.
The Bandit snicked the ignition off. He lifted his cowboy hat and ran his sleeve
over his bangs. “Hoo–wish I had me somethin’ stronger than Coors in this rig.”
“Shouldn’t drink ‘n drive. It’ll kill ya,” Daisy murmured absently, her heart still
hammering like a piston.
“You all right?”
“I’m just fine.” Daisy looked around her. “So this is Hidden Canyon. Well, Uncle
Jesse was right! It sure is hidden!”
“I’ll just check to see they didn’t follow.” The Bandit opened the door and jogged
’round to the back of the truck. She heard his voice floating back to her. “This little ol’
river did all this? Come back in a million years and we might have ourselves another
Grand Canyon!”
Daisy alighted and strolled ’round to the back of the truck. “Pretty, ain’t it? And it
drops off so steep you can’t see a thing from the main road. The trees and bushes up there
act like a curtain. The perfect hiding place.”
“I believe you Dukes could hide the stature of Liberty if you had a mind to.” His
voice was coming from above her now. Daisy looked up in surprise to see the Bandit
peeking down at her from the top of the truck.
“How’d you get up there!” she cried.
“Those metal rungs built into the bay doors. Had them put on so we could shinny
up hear and keep a lookout for bear, or just hide ourselves if need be.”
Daisy laughed. “Any sign of them fellas?”
“Nope. You threw them off the scent, all right.”
“I’d better get on the emergency channel and warn the others.”
“Good idea.” He raised his hat a little to see her better. “You know, some fellas
ain’t partial to women drivers–but I ain’t one of them.”
Halfway to the cab, she turned back, long hair swirling. “Why, thank you, Mr.
Bandit. But I’m not the one you’re partial to, and you know it.”
The Bandit sputtered, eyes wide, as Daisy climbed into the cab.

Fred was whining and writhing in the Snowman’s arms as Enos escorted his two
prisoners down the corridor to the booking office. His master could barely hold him.
“What ails you, boy? We stopped to let you out of the car twice! Now quit that fussing!”
As soon as they went in, Flash leapt to her feet with a squeal and hurried to them.
With a great effort she heaved herself onto her hind legs and leaned against the tall
trucker, howling. Fred, for his part, wiggled and howled in return. The sonorous baying
of the two hounds was deafening.
“I take it this here’s Flash?” bawled the Snowman over the din.
Enos wanted to pry Flash off but didn’t dare to take his eyes off his prisoners.
“Yes, sir, she’s Sheriff Rosco’s dog an’-Flash, sweetheart, what’s got into you?”
“Enos, how am I gonna hear my one phone call over that racket?” demanded
Luke.
“I’m sorry, Luke, I don’t know what’s come over her! Luke, could you hold here
while Mr. Snowman takes hisself and Fred down there to the holding cell?”
Luke knelt and hung on to the heavy basset as the Snowman, struggling not to
drop his own dog, stumbled to the cellar door and headed down. Flash heaved and
whined, desperate to follow, and when the door banged shut she tore herself free and ran
to it, scrabbling against it and crying. Luke stood up and shook his head. “Must be awful
lonesome for her own kind. You’d best tell Rosco she’s sickening for something!”
He moved to the phone as Enos knelt to comfort the dog.
Out at the Duke farm, Uncle Jesse strained to hear Luke on the other end of the
phone. “Luke? Where in the world are you at? Sounds like you’re calling from the
Hazzard County dog pound!”
“Oh, that’s just Flash, Uncle Jesse, making a fuss. Listen, I’m here at the
courthouse with the Snowman. Enos just booked the two of us.”
“Enos? What’s the charge?”
Running Coors. Listen, Uncle Jesse, where’s Bo at?”
“He’s out with the General someplace. Look, don’t worry, I’ll let him know
what’s happened. You sit tight, Luke, we’ll have you outta there somehow.”
“Thanks, Uncle Jesse. Let Bo and the Bandit know about what’s happened. And
listen: tell Bo to take a good look at them crates on that truck. Sheriff Justice done set
the Bandit up. Don’t worry ’bout us, now. We’ll be fine.” He hung up the phone and
went over to Enos. “Say, Enos, that door’s gonna need a new paint job with all the
scratches ol’ Flash is putting on it.”
“I know it, Luke. Mr. Hogg’s gonna have my hide. Ding dang it, Flash, you
behave yourself now! Stay put, darlin’!”
The two men just barely managed to squeeze through the cellar door without
Flash. They made their way down the stairs to find Fred arched up the bottom steps,
howling mournfully at his inability to climb them.
“Say, deputy, when do I get my one phone call?” asked the Snowman as Enos
ushered them into the cell and locked the door.
“I’ll let you do that as soon as I get back, Mr. Snowman, sir.”
“Get back from where?” asked Luke.
“Vinnie’s café, Luke. I missed lunch when I was chasing y’all. Y’all want
anything, fellas?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Luke sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not
too hungry right now.”
“Same here,” said the Snowman. “But, say, deputy, would y’all mind bringing ol’
Fred here a corndog or something? Maybe that’d settle him down.”
Enos looked thoughtful. “I can do better than that, Mr. Snowman. I’ll take him
up to visit with Flash while I’m gone. Ain’t no call for him to be in the cell, he ain’t under
arrest!” Enos laughed cheerfully.
The Snowman nodded his permission and Enos struggled to lift the big hound.
“Possum on a gumbush, Fred, you’re even more of a chunk than ol’ Flash! Come on up
and meet her now. She’s a darlin’, you’ll just love her-“
As Enos’ voice faded up the stairs, Luke turned to reassure his companion.
“Don’t worry. I told Uncle Jesse to warn the Bo and the Bandit. This won’t be the first
time we’ve broken out of Hazzard jail.”

Jesse’s old pick-up churned up the dust as it skidded down the dirt track into
Hidden Canyon. Rounding the narrow curve with the ease of a born ridge-runner, he
spotted the big rig and General Lee up ahead, where Bo, Carrie, the Bandit and Daisy
were waving.
“Uncle Jesse!” called Daisy, running over to him. “Ain’t Luke with you?”
Jesse climbed down out of the pick-up. “No, he ain’t. He just telephoned me from
the Hazzard County Jail! Him and the Snowman’s been arrested.”
The Bandit kicked the dirt and swore under his breath. “I don’t believe it. It
wasn’t Sheriff Justice, was it? He’ll stuff ‘em and mount ‘em on his wall!”
“No, it weren’t him, it were Deputy Enos Strate. But they’s in jail, all the same.”
“Uncle Jesse, we gotta get them out of there! Between Boss Hogg, Rosco and
Sheriff Justice, they got less chance than a Yankee at Shiloh!” Bo nodded at Carrie. “Uh,
beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.”
The Bandit looked back at the truck. “Well, at least they ain’t got no evidence.
We got the truck and the Coors.”
Carrie gasped. “The Coors! Oh, no! You had one case in the transam,
remember?”
“Shoot! You’re right! Aw, but they coulda dumped that one case easy, honey.”
“That ain’t their only problem, Mr. Bandit.” Jesse’s voice grew low. “Luke done
told me you boys was set up by that Sheriff Justice. He put something else inside those
cases of beer and we better have a look before we go any further.”
The Bandit looked at them all in bewilderment. “Sheriff Justice? But the only way
he coulda known where the shipment was was if he….you mean…he set us up in this job?
Not Burdett? Sheriff Justice wanted us to do a run?”
Bo headed for the truck. “Bandit, I think we’d better take ourselves a look right
now.”
They slid the locks and bolts back and swung the big doors open. Drawing his
knife, Bo sawed at one of the boxes until he could rip away the cardboard and reach
inside. “Looks like a can of Coors, alright. But what’s this here in behind it?”
He dragged out a grey bundle, identical to the one the Snowman had found. The
Bandit reached in and found more as Bo punctured the burlap with his knife. He showed
the contents to the others.
The Bandit sucked in his breath. “That maniac! It’s cocaine! He’s set us up as
drug-runners!”
Carrie turned white as a sheet. “But, you don’t actually-“
“Course I don’t!” The Bandit’s fear and anger made his voice louder than he
intended. “What d’you take me for! I run beer, not this God-awful stuff! I oughta kick
his ass from here to Houston, that sneaky, no-account-“
“Now hang on, there, Mr. Bandit. Hollerin’ at Miss Carrie here ain’t fair. You
gotta allow she’s gonna be a bit skittish after seein’ what we just seen. But she believes in
you, and so do we. Now what we gotta do is figure out what to do with all this here
Devil’s confectionry and how to get your friend and my nephew outta jail.”
The Bandit looked down, ashamed. He caught Carrie’s hand. “I-I’m sorry, honey.
‘Guess I ain’t much at dealin’ with trouble if it ain’t goin’ a hundred miles an hour. I
didn’t mean that back there. Honest I didn’t.”
Carrie smiled and returned the pressure of his hand. “I understand. I know you’re
worried about Cledus.”
Daisy added, “And there’s somethin’ else we gotta be worried about, Uncle Jesse!
The Bandit an’ I got chased back there by a couple of fellas in a blue sedan! They wasn’t
no police, and they wasn’t nobody we ever seen around here. They ended up havin’ a
shootout with Boss and Rosco and chased them off somewheres! I’ll bet them fellas was
after the cocaine!”
Bo said, “You think Boss and Rosco know about the drugs too?”
“I can’t imagine J.D. an’ Rosco risking their hides over a truck fulla beer, that’s for
sure.” Jessie lifted his cap and scratched his grey head. “Sure hope they knows what
they’s doing.”
The Bandit nodded. “If it’s cocaine those fellas in the blue car were after, then
they’re no small time operators. They mean business!”
“Well, why don’t we just call in the FBI? Then they’d leave us alone,” said Carrie.
Jesse shook his head. “That ain’t the way things happen in Hazzard, Miss Carrie.
For one thing, ol’ J.D. ain’t gonna back up our story. He sure don’t want no FBI sniffin’
around Hazzard County. And even if we called the FBI ourselves, by the time they got
here, them fellas mighta found us, or Sheriff Justice’ll have got his cabbage clutchers onto
Luke and the Snowman. No, we gotta get this truck into Atlanta by ourselves.”
“Mr. Duke,” said the Bandit, “the only man I’d trust driving a rig full of this is
Cledus Snow…which brings us back to our original problem. How to get them out of
jail!”
Bo sighed. “An’ ol’ Luke’s the schemer of the family. Sure wish it was me on the
inside, ‘stead of him.”
“Look, everybody,” said Daisy. “If it’s only Enos that’s there, I can handle him.
He’s so sweet he’d eat right out of my hands!”
“No, Daisy. We’s gonna need you to sweet-talk ol’ Stuart over at the Impound
Yard to get the Bandit’s car sprung. ‘Sides, if’n Enos sees a Duke now, even you, he’s
bound to know we’s up to something. But…” Jesse suddenly grinned. “He ain’t never
seen the Bandit and Miss Carrie.”
The Bandit raised an eyebrow and grinned at the thought of a shuck and jive
“What do you have in mind, Mr. Duke?”
Jesse threw his arms around the couple’s shoulders. “Friends, I do believe they’s
gonna be a weddin’ in Hazzard today!”