by: Karen Campbell

Just outside of town, Artie Bender’s wagon was rolling along a quiet country road.
Artie Bender’s wagon was alot like Artie Bender: small, old and rickety, but full of
bounce. Hazzard County’s own “Grandpa Moses” was heading into town to pick up
some flour, coffee and a brand new set of paints that Rhubottom’s General Store had
special-ordered, and seated next to Artie, his tie pulled askew and his shirt-tail falling out,
was a very tired Rosco P. Coltrane.
But for all his artistic sensitivity, Artie no more noticed his companion’s mood than
he noticed the deerfly that was buzzing ’round his hat. He shook the reigns of the bony
old mule that shambled along in the shafts, and gazed smiling at the woods around them.
“Them leaves was sure pretty a few weeks ago, wasn’t they, Sheriff? Nothin’ like
the ones you see up North…I seen ’em once, in Maine it was. Looked like the Lord done
took up His own brush and painted the whole countryside in candie apple red and
persimmon orange…still, sure do miss even our little show when it goes.”
Rosco had pulled his boots off his aching feet; he now used one to swatt at the
deerfly. “I ain’t paintin’ a picture, Artie, I’m supposed to be in hot pursuit! Can’t you get
this old bag o’ bones to get on?”

“Aw, that’s just the point, Sheriff. Jehosophat here ain’t no spring chicken–er,
mule, that is. He’s worked like a Trojan all these years an’ never once bit nor kicked me.
Well, you know I can’t afford no critter that can’t earn its keep an’…last week he stumbled
in the shafts… but I just can’t bear to let him go.”
The autumn breeze suddenly picked up, running chill fingers through Rosco’s shirt.
As clear as yesterday he remembered the autumn, years ago, when ol’ Blue had stumbled
for the first time. Rosco had thought it was only rheumatism, and put an extra warm
blanket down for the dog to lie on. The next morning he called for ol’ Blue for about ten
minutes, but the dog. didn’t come. He went and found the old coonhound still lying on that
blanket, stiff and cold. The vet said his heart had given out. And ol’ Blue had been four
years younger than Flash was now…
Slowly he became aware of the voice of Artie Bender, still rambling on. “It’s like
them autumn leaves, I guess, ain’t it, Sheriff? I mean, somehow they’s all the dearer,
almost achin’ dearer, ’cause you know you’re gonna lose ’em soon enough.”
Rosco drew his black jacket close around his shoulders and sighed heavily. “I
know it, Artie,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I know it.”
Bo had CB’d Cooter about a pair of special visitors, so he was expecting the
Bandit and Carrie when Jesse dropped them off. Now the Bandit looked at his watch as
Carrie primped in the washroom. “Come on, Frog, honey! Ol’ Luke ‘n the Snowman ain’t
getting any younger in that jail, an’ the Sheriff could be back any second!”
“I’m trying! It’s got to look just right!” came the muffled reply from back of the
garage.
Cooter, his head hidden under the hood of Rosco’s patrol car, tried to still the
waters. “Don’t y’all worry, Mr. Bandit. I can hold off ol’ Rosco for a little bit, unless he
figures on takin’ off in one of the old clunkers outside.”
The Bandit sighed. “Dang women, always have to go at the worst times.”
“Well, you know what them Frenches say. Viva la differance, or somethin’ like
that.”
“I suppose.” He took a quick pull on the can of soda he was holding. “Thanks for
the soda, by the way. I need it, the way I’m sweatin’.”
“My pleasure.”
The Bandit looked at his watch again. “I’ve seen this before. She ain’t gonna be
outta there notime soon. Might as well relax.” He sighed again, stared at his boots, at the
tools and posters on the wall, and finally back to the soda in his hand. At last he began, in
a quiet voice, “Say, Cooter…you mind if I ask you somethin’?”
“Shoot.”
“I hear everybody calling you Crazy Cooter, but you don’t seem too crazy to me.
You’re a self-made man, you run your own business…folks here depend on you. And you
don’t let ’em down.”
Leaning deep under the hood, Cooter twisted the snake lamp around to shine on
the valves he wanted. “Well, I reckon I care about these people. An’ I care about this
place.”
“And you’re happy, ain’t you?”
Cooter eased out from under the hood and looked at him. “Yeah. Leastways I’m
alot hapier than I been in a long time. Why all the questions?”
“I just wondered how you got that handle, that’s all. Figured there musta been a
time when you were a little more of a rebel, you know. Doing your own thing.”
“Like y’all, you mean, or Bo ‘n Luke? Fighting the system and thumbing your nose
at the law–leastways when the law’s about as crooked as this here snakelight? Oh, I’m
still doing that; in my own way.”
“That isn’t exactly what I meant, Cooter.” The Bandit hesitated. “Now, I know I’m
about to get personal here, so if I’m goin’ over the line, just say the word an’ I’ll back off.”
“What are you gettin’ at, Mr. Bandit?”
“I…I noticed in your ice box back there–all kinds of soda pop, but no beer. Then
there was Bo on the CB, sayin’ he’d buy you a coffee at the Boar’s Nest. The way I
understand it, the Boar’s Nest is a road house. Most people wouldn’t be goin’ there to
drink coffee. Now I sure don’t figure you for a bible banger, and when I thought about
your old handle, I got to thinkin’ that…well maybe you might be…”
Cooter looked calmly at him. “It’s okay, Mr. Bandit, you can say it. I don’t like to
broadcast it, but then again it ain’t no secret around here. You guessed right, you won’t
never find no beer around here. I’m what they call a “recoverin’ alcoholic.” I don’t touch
the stuff no more.”
The Bandit took a long, slow breath and shook his head. “How’d you do it,
Cooter? How’d you find the strength to lick it?”
“You sound like a man who’s got hisself somethin’ to lick, Mr. Bandit.”
The Bandit laughed briefly, embarassed at Cooter’s insight. “Nothin’ much gets
past you, does it, Cooter? Yeah, I been leaning on the stuff a little hard lately. Even the
Snowman’s been chewing at me about it. But sometimes it scares me, Cooter. I can see
the end of the road coming closer and closer. I can’t be the Bandit forever; I gotta settle
down ‘n make something of myself someday, but it scares me that maybe I ain’t got it in
me to make it. That’s when the drinking helps me forget, for a while.”
“”n that’s the trap. Just for a little while, so you keep on drinkin’ an’ pretty soon
you can’t do without it an’ you ain’t no good to nobody.”
“I know it. But how’d you do it, Cooter? How’d you give it up?”
Cooter sighed. “Two reasons, really. First there was the Dukes. They’d been my
friends forever an’ they was always there when I needed ’em. Then one day, they was in
real trouble: thought Bo ‘n Luke had drowned in an accident and suddenly there was
Uncle Jesse and Daisy, needin’ me. I turned down a glass of Jesse’s best shine that day —
figured if they neeed me I’d better be the best that I could be. The other thing was my
daughter, Nancy Lou. I couldn’t be there for her when she was little, ’cause the drink done
took that away from me. But I’m sure gonna be there for her from now on.”
The Bandit looked thoughtful as Cooter continued, “So I guess you gotta say to
yourself, ‘who needs me? Who’s dependin’ on me? Who means more to me than anyone
in this world an’ what have I got to offer them…or her?”
The Bandit looked up, startled. “Her? Her? What do you mean?”
Cooter jerked his head towards the washroom and smiled. “She’s a good woman,
son. ‘N like I said, you can still fight the system, even if you ain’t out there burnin’ up the
Interstate. The best kind of a rebel is a rebel with a cause, and it looks like y’all got
yourself the best kind of cause there is. Don’t mess it up now.”
Carrie came hurrying out, clutching a bouquet, with her white bridal veil trailing
behind her. The sight took the Bandit back a bit. “All right, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!
Wish us luck, Cooter!”
Cooter grinned at the sight of the girl in her wedding finery as the Bandit took her
hand. The Bandit grinned back in silent thanks. “Best of luck, Miss Frog, Mr. Bandit.
Keep it between the ditches, y’all!”
The Bandit and Carrie waved, and hand-in-hand hurried across the street to the
courthouse.

Enos tossed the last of his pickle to the two basset hounds, who lay quietly side by
side. The pickle rolled, unnoticed, past their noses.
“Well, y’all sure done simmered down since I got back. That’s nice, y’all gettin’
along so well. See, Fred, I told you you’d love her.”
Fred gave a long, happy sigh and thumped his tail.
“Anybody home?”
Enos looked up to see the Bandit leaning ’round the door. The Bandit flashed all
his teeth in a blinding grin, praying that Enos hadn’t got a look at him back at the Duke
farm. To his relief, Enos’ grin was even wider. “Howdy. what can I do for y’all?”
“You can make me the happiest man in Georgia, Deputy!” The Bandit pushed the
door open wider, and Carrie, with a bouquet in her hands and a viel on her head, peeked
under his arm.
“Hello there, officer. I hope we’re not bothering you?”
By now, Enos’s grin was almost wrapped around his whole head “Oh, no, no
ma’am, you ain’t botherin’ me! Shoot, you ain’t botherin’ me at all! I–I–my, you sure do
look pretty, ma’am.”
“Why, thank you!” Carrie nudged the Bandit with her bouquet. “Well, I see that
what they say about Southern Gentlemen is all very true!”
“Aw, thank you, ma’am. Y’all from up North, are you?”
“New Jersey.”
“Well, welcome to Hazzard, ma’am. Sure do want to wish you the best on your
weddin’ day.”
The Bandit nodded proudly, looping an arm around his “bride.” “Now, Deputy,
what we’re hoping you could help us with is–”
“Woof!” Fred had recognized his old friend’s voice and struggled to his feet to
greet him.
“Hey! Well, look who’s here! Hi there, ol’ Fr–ack!!” The Bandit gasped as Carrie
dug an elbow into his ribs. “Ol’–Fr–friendly fella! Ain’t you a nice dog!”
“Yessir, he is. Well, I ain’t knowed him that long, but ol’ Flash here seems to set
alot of store by him, an’ that’s good enough for me.”
“Flash?”
“Yessir. This here’s Flash–” Enos hesitated for a second, craning his head over.
“Yeah, this one on the right. She’s Sheriff Rosco’s dog.”
“The Sheriff?” asked Carrie quickly. “Oh, is he around?”
“No, ma’am, I’m sorry. They’s just me an’ these two dogs here now. ‘Ceptin’ them
two prisoners downstairs. Ol’ Fred here belongs to one of them.” Fred barked at the
Bandit again, tail thumping furiously. “Possum on a gumbush, Mr, ol’ Fred here sure has
taken a shine to you!”
“Aah…yeah–well, y’see, I just got this way with kids & dogs.” The Bandit flashed
the blinding teeth again. “But as I was about to say, Deputy, what we’re really looking for
is the Justice of the Peace. We were hoping to get hitched today and head down to Los
Angeles for our honeymoon.”
“Hooeee! Ain’t that nice! You’ll really like it down there, ma’am, it’s…” Enos’ face
fell. “Gosh-oh gosh, folks, the Justice ain’t here neither! He’s with the Sheriff!”
Carrie’s fallen face could have put Flash to shame. “Oh, sweetie pie! What are we
going to do now?” She buried her face in the bouquet and sobbed against the Bandit’s
chest.
Enos was twisting his napkin into a corkscrew. “Aw, ma’am, please don’t…the
church is just over yonder! We can get the preacher to–”
“Wouldn’t work, Deputy,” the Bandit whispered, patting Carrie’s back like a
maiden aunt. “She’s Catholic and I’m Methodist.”
“Oh…well, I could try’n raise Mr. Hogg on the CB, find out where he’s at…”
“It won’t be soon enough!” wailed the bride.
“Our bus leaves in half-an-hour,” added the Bandit. He pulled out a red gingham
handkerchief and muffled Carrie’s face in it. “Deputy, you think maybe you could get her
a glass of icewater or something? I think the sun down here’s been a little to much for her
Yankee blood.”
“Oh…yessir, I’ll get that for you, right now. Y’all just set down right here and I’ll
be right back.” Enos inched past them and tore off down the hall. As soon as he
disappeared ’round a corner, the Bandit bounded up the steps and snatched the keys from
their nail.
“Keep your eyes peeled, darlin’, ” he called as he clattered down the stairs.
In the cell, Luke and Cledus Snow sprang up at the sound of rushing footsteps.
“Bandit, you sly ol’ devil! What’d you do to that smilin’ smokey up there?”
“Send him on a mission of mercy.” the Bandit quickly unlocked the cell door and
hauled it open. “You were right, Luke. The Snowman and me were set up. That truck’s
full of coke.”
“We ain’t got time for that now. We gotta get to that truck before Sheriff Justice
does!” The three men dashed up the stairs.
Up in the booking office, Carrie gasped as Enos came tearing back all too soon
with a tall, sloshing glass of icewater. “Deputy!” she shouted, praying her friends would
hear. They did, almost slamming into each other as they stopped at the head of the stairs.
Enos slid to a stop with a slosh that slopped over Carrie’s flowers and narrowly
missed her blouse. “Powerful sorry, ma’am. Here y’are.”
Carrie took it, sniffling, wondering what in the world to do next. With a deep
breath, she raised the glass to her lips, then deliberately dashed the water down the front
of his trousers.
Enos shrieked and leapt backwards like a startled cat as the Bandit and the two
prisoners burst out of the stairwell and down the steps. Carrie shoved her bouquet in
Enos’ face as Cledus bent down to heave Fred into his arms.
“Come on, Fred. Time to hit the road again!” He lumbered out on his friends’
heels as Enos tried to dry himself and brush the petals out of his face at the same time. He
wasn’t having much success with either.
But he had seen the Snowman tottering out with a basset in his arms. “Ding dang
it! Hang on there, you polecat! Y’all bring her back right this minute! Do you hear me?”
He was almost out the door after them when he heard Flash bark. Stumbling back, he
crouched before the basset still sitting on the floor, and let out an hysterical giggle of
relief. “Flash, sweetheart, there y’are! I plum forgot there was two of you! Thank
goodness! Sheriff Rosco wouldn’t never a forgiven me!” He heard the front door of the
building slam. “Jiminey! They’s gettin’ away!” He kissed Flash’s long nose. “Stay there,
darlin,” and scrambled off in hot pursuit.
Luke was first down the steps of the courthouse, sailing across the General’s hood
like a dancer. The Bandit popped Carrie in the backseat (she was getting quite used to
this by now) and slid in beside her. He reached up to take Fred from the Snowman, who
was pushing the big dog through the window as best he could. “Damn it, Fred, why didn’t
I get a Chihuahua?’ he groaned as the basset’s back legs finally wiggled over the door
frame.
“Get in, Snowman! There’s a bear about to take a bite out of your ass!” yelled the
Bandit.
The Snowman poked his long legs in just as Enos came skittering down the front
steps. Luke hit the gas, and the General spun off with the snowman half outside and
clinging for dear life.
Enos tore ’round the front of his car, jumped in, and shot off after them in full
battle cry.
“Damn it, Harlan, where’d they all go? They just vanished into thin air!”
Harlan was silent, his grey eyes glinting. Calmly he took up the crumpled road
map and straightened it out on his knees. “Get out ‘n stretch then, if you can’t keep still.”
he said quietly.
Not wanting to rile his partner out of one of his rare calm spells, Jason did as he
was told. He leaned against the trunk of a tree and folded his arms. “We was shootin’ at
them smokeys and they got away,” he finally grumbled. ” State troopers’ll be on our tail
next!”
“”n that’s why we’s parked here, nice & quiet. Nobody’ll see us ’til we’s ready to
make our move.”
“‘N what’s that?”
“To know every road in these parts like them moonshiners does. To memorize
every trail, lane n’ creek so’s we won’t get taken again.”
“‘N then what?”
“‘N then listen to the CB, ’til somebody shoots off his mouth about a big ol’ 18
wheeler with a stagecoach painted on the side. “Then we’ll be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Harlan looked up. His smile was long, slow and dangerous. “That coke is
mine–‘n no one nor nobody’s gonna stand in my way!”
“Cooter! Ain’t this here patrol car of mine fixed yet?”
Cooter came in from the back of the garage to see Rosco popping the hood on his
car. The mechanic wiped his hands on a greasy rag and strolled over. “She’s frisky as a
spring colt, Rosco. Say, where’d y’all spring from anyway? ‘N where’s ol’ Boss’s cadillac?
Y’ain’t run it into the lake, is ya?” Cooter grinned.
“No, I ain’t,” Rosco snapped, slamming the hood down. “The Boss was drivin’ and
he got himself a flat tire. His C.B.’s busted too. He’s parked on the dirt trail that leads
down to Hobson’s meadow.”
“Don’t y’all worry, Rosco, I’ll get right down there. Be a shame to let ol’ Boss get
his nice white suit all muddy, kneelin’ on the ground to change a tire.”
Rosco stiffled a smile at the thought, then composed himself. He looked up and
down the street for Enos’s patrol car. “Where’s that dipstick deputy of mine? Don’t tell
me I beat him back here on Artie Bender’s wagon!”
“He’s been ‘n gone, Rosco. They’s been more traffic ’round here than Hotlanta at
quittin’ time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…” Cooter paused, realizing he’d been about to give away Luke’s escape.
“Well, for one thing, you just missed ol’ Buford T. Justice ‘n son. Come roarin’ in here
shoutin’ somethin’ about a lost hanky ‘n nearly tore my garage apart lookin’ for it! In the
end he still took off without his door!” He gestured at the brown door, still propped up
against a stack of tires.
“A hanky?”
“Yeah! He was sure mighty tore up about losin’ it! Thought he was gonna throttle
that boy of his. ‘N they looked like they’d been in some kinda chase ‘n come out the losers.
Mud all over their back fenders, ‘n a big gash in the oil tank.”
“The oil tank! How’d you know that?”
“Look.” Cooter nodded to the pavement at their feet, where a spattered brown
trail led from the lot out onto the road and out of the square. “Pretty soon he’s gonna
been needin’ another tow.”
Rosco stared at the splotchy trail. “He sure has been actin’ peculiar. ‘N if the Boss
is right, he knows what’s in that truck! Lettin’ that stuff come through my county!
Leadin’ them two gunslingers in here to shoot at me ‘n the Boss! Who does he think he
is?”
“Rosco, you done lost me about a mile back. What stuff? What gunslingers?”
Rosco didn’t hear him. “Jit! Jit! He’s got some answerin’ to do!” He jumped into
the patrol car. “Put it on the Boss’s tab, Cooter! I’m in hot pursuit! Khee! Khee!”
Cooter was alarmed at the talk of guns. “Y’all watch your back, there, Rosco!” he
called as the patrol car skidded out of the lot. “Don’t want nobody comin’ back here in no
hearse,” he muttered softly.

It was all Luke could do, as the General Lee shot into Hidden Canyon, not to blare
the Dixie horn to herald their coming. But it was enough to see Bo, Uncle Jesse and
Daisy waving beside the gleaming black transam. The three of them ran up, laughing and
cheering, as the General swung to a halt.
“Yeehaw! We knew you’d make it! Nice job, Mr. Bandit! Miss Frog!”
The Snowman was pulling his long limbs from the car as Jesse helped him.
“Ugh…thank you, Mr. Duke! Say, y’all ever thought of unweldin’ these doors?”
“Don’t bother, Mr. Snowman, it ain’t no use. I been askin’ ’em for years,” muttered
Jesse, hauling him free.
The Bandit passed Fred through to his friend, then climbed nimbly out. He lifted
Carrie free and kissed her without even bothering to put her down. “Darlin’, you were
better than the Grand Ol’ Opry! You could fool St. Peter himself!”
Daisy laughed at the sight of them, at Carrie with her wedding viel still streaming
out behind her. “Y’all look like you’re ready to carry her over the threshold, Mr. Bandit!”
The Bandit laughed while Cledus Snow shook his head in pity. “There goes
another good man, Fred,” he murmured. “Like a lamb to the slaughter.”
Luke had joined Bo. His voice was serious. “Y’all see what was in that truck?”
“Yeah. An’ Sheriff Justice put it there.”
“We know it, ‘cuz. ‘N we got proof.”
“Proof?”
“Yeah. Ol’ Justice Junior dropped his monogrammed hanky in one of the crates.
It’ll tie them to it stronger than balin’ wire. Y’all better take that with you when you head
for Atlanta, Mr. Bandit.”
The Bandit, who’d put Carrie down, came over and took the purple handkerchief
from Luke. “Thanks alot, Luke, Bo, Daisy, Mr. Duke. We can’t thank you enough. You
really are good ol’ boys.”
Carrie pulled the viel off, smiling. “We’ll never forget you.”
“Well, you won’t need to forget us yet,” replied Luke. ” Bo ‘n me’s comin’ with
you.”
“What?” almost everyone said at once. Jesse bristled. “Now wait a minute, Luke!
You boys is still on probation! You can’t go to Atlanta!”
“Uncle Jesse, them fellas in the blue sedan that the Bandit told us about ain’t gonna
let a truckload of prime cocaine go without a fight. ‘N there’s still Sheriff Justice, and
Rosco ‘n Enos! The Bandit ‘n the Snowman’s gonna need somebody to run blocker!
Somebody they can trust!”
“Luke, you don’t gotta do that!” said the Bandit. “Cledus ‘n me cut our teeth on
losing smokeys! Besides, you done enough already! We gotta get back to fightin’ our
own battles!”
“But it ain’t just your battle. Uncle Jesse, everybody, if this here cocaine comes
into the wrong hands, who knows where it’s gonna end up? Some of it might well end up
here in Hazzard County, ‘n it’d be our fault! We owe it to our friends ‘n neighbours to see
this stuff gets safely to Atlanta ‘n the FBI!”
Nobody spoke. Then Jesse sighed. “Well, Daisy ‘n me ‘ll go back to the farm ‘n
call the FBI in Atlanta. Leastways they’ll be ready when you come, ‘n might be able to
send somebody to meet you halfway. ‘N I got myself a friend there; maybe he can get you
fellas a suspended sentence on them Coors for bringin’ in the cocaine.”
The Snowman hefted his dog. “Well, come on, then! What’re we waitin’ for? We
got a long way to go and a short time to get there!”
In another moment, Daisy and Jesse in the pickup, The Bandit and Carrie in the
transam, Fred and the Snowman in the rig and Bo and Luke in the General Lee were
climbing up out of Hidden Canyon and heading for the Interstate.

Sheriff Buford T. Justice barely noticed the sign that said Chickasaw county as he
pelted down the road like a man possessed. His son, gingerly examining his black eye in
the side mirror, finally spoke. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find my hanky, Daddy. Maybe I’ll
just buy me a new one.”
“Maybe I’ll just dump you in the Mississipi!” Justice spat. “Well, at least in
Mexico, nobody ‘ll listen to your blabberin’ ’cause they’ll all be speakin’ Spanish!”
“Is that where we’s headed, Daddy? Mexico?”
“On account of you, boy, yes!”
His son frowned. “How we gonna know we’s in Mexico, Daddy?”
“‘You look out for little fellas in big hats ridin’ on little brown donkeys ‘n sayin’
“Seenyor” ‘n you’ll know we’re there.”
“Okay, Daddy.” His son stared alertly out the window as Justice raised his eyes to
heaven. The young man looked behind them. “That ain’t no Mexican, Daddy. That’s that
Sheriff with the little hound dog.”
“What?” The wail of a siren made Justice stare over his shoulder, to see a
white Hazzard patrol car gaining ground. “That sumbitch! What does he want now!”
“I dunno, Daddy. Maybe he wants to go to Mexico too.”
“I’ll see him in hell first!” Justice slammed the gas pedal to the floor and rocketed
ahead. Rosco followed suit, twisting and reeling through the windy country lanes,
relentless as a hound on a scent. Justice couldn’t shake him. Suddenly his son spoke up
again.
“Daddy–that ain’t no Mexican either, is it?”
A green patrol car was blocking the road ahead. Justice’s spun to a halt, followed
by Rosco, who clipped his back fender. Justice heaved himself out, white with fury.
“What the hell are you chasin’ me for, you ijit! Ain’t you got enough criminals in Hazzard
County?”
“You tell me!” Rosco snapped. “You knew all along what that rig was carryin’!
Why’d you lie to the Boss ‘n me? You ain’t sidewindin’ out of this one, you Texas
rattlesnake!”
Justice was about to open his mouth when someone else beat him to it.
“Coltrane!”
Rosco, Justice and Justice’s son turned as one to the green patrol car.
A tall, imposing black man in a helmet and black sunglasses climbed out. He
looked at the battling sheriffs with quiet scorn. “What is going on here? Is my county
becomin’ the secret place where fool Sheriffs come to spawn?” said Sheriff “Big” Ed
Little of Chickasaw County.
Rosco bristled, but Justice’s reaction was very different. He placed his hands on
his hips and tilted his head slightly, the faintest quirk tugging at his lips. There was no
mistaking the decals on the green patrol car, or the badge on Little’s chest. Nevertheless,
his first words were, “And who might you be, boy?”
Rosco gasped as though Justice had just pulled the pin out of a hand-grenade.
“Jit! Jit! What are you doing? Don’t you see that badge? That there’s Big Ed
Little, ‘n he’s the sheriff in this county!”
“Oh, is that a fact?” Justice smiled sweetly. “My, my, what is the world comin’
to?”
Ed Little walked quietly forward. “You got yourself more nerve than an abscessed
tooth, Mr.,” he murmured softly.
Justice was also moving forward as Rosco waited for the outbreak of the second
war between the states. “What I got me is a better place to be than here, boy, so you’d
best be gettin’ out of my way, an’ keepin’ a civil tongue in that head of yours. You may be
sherif here, but I don’t never take no lip from no n–”
“Justice!” Rosco broke in. “Where was you raised? In a swamp? Heaven knows I
ain’t got no great love for Sheriff Little, but you’re gonna show him the respect he’s due,
and the respect that badge of his is due!”
Justice turned to his son. “Well, what do you think of Georgia, Junior? Used to
be the jewel of Dixie, and now it ain’t nothin’ but a haven for Niggers!”
Bamm! A fist connected with Sheriff Buford T. Justice’s jaw that sent him reeling
backwards, to land sprawled face down in the mud. And the man standing over him,
breathing heavily and massaging his knuckles, was–
“Coltrane!” Sheriff Little pulled off his dark sunglasses and gaped at Rosco in
complete astonishment.
Rosco was still in fighting stance. “He ain’t even worth your raisin’ your hand to,
Ed. I been waitin’ to do that ever since I laid eyes on him.”
Little was trying very hard to keep his iron lips from tugging into a smile. “What’s
he doin’ here, anyway?”
Justice’s son, who was kneeling beside his father, supplied the answer. “You see?
You see, Daddy? We never shoulda played that joke on the Bandit. Look at the trouble
it’s got us into!”
Justice was still groaning; Rosco was intrigued. “What joke is that?”
“Puttin’ all that talcalm powder in them crates of Coors and gettin’ the Bandit and
the Snowman to run ’em to Atlanta. We hadda sneak all that talcalm powder outta the
Dallas police department–weren’t easy, neither! Them special dogs set up such a ruckus!
An’ I lost my good hanky!”
Little was too far behind to play catch up. “Talcalm powder? Dogs? Hanky?
Coltrane, what’s this here fool talkin’ about?”
For Rosco, the pieces were all coming together. “Out of Dallas…the drug sniffin’
dogs…that snow…the Boss was right all along! But it weren’t the Bandit–it was this here
maverick Sheriff!”
“Coltrane! Wil you tell me what’s goin’ on?”
“I ain’t got time. Look here, Little, you take this pair in an’ cuff ’em an’ stuff
’em–charge ’em with usin’ foul language if you like! I gotta catch up with that shipment!”
Rosco was already racing for his patrol car. “Dammit, Coltrane! Shipment of
what?”
Rosco grinned. “Khee! Khee! Snow! You know what snow is, don’t you!” and
tore off with siren howling.
Little shook his head. “As I live and breathe, Coltrane, I won’t never figure you
out!”

“How did he find us?” Bo moaned..
“Who cares? Point is he did find us. Now we gotta explain this to him.”
Bo moaned again. “Better you than me, cuz.”
Luke took up the CB. “This is Luke Duke callng Deputy Enos Strate. Enos, I’m
sorry ’bout that back there in town, but you don’t understand what’s going on.”
“I understand y’all had illegal beers in your car, Luke. An’ I understand y’all’s on
route 25 headin’ for the interstate to Atlanta, an’ y’all’s breakin’ probation! Them strangers
sure done led you astray, Luke…’n they seemed so nice and all!”
“Listen, Enos, you got it all wrong. The Bandit and the Snowman is innocent–it’s
Sheriff Justice that’s guilty!”
“What do you mean–guilty of what, Luke?”
Luke briefly explained how Sheriff Justice had framed the truckers. Enos’ brow
furrowed. “But why’d he go to all that bother, Luke? Why’s he hate the Bandit so much?”
Carrie answered him. “Because of me, Deputy! I didn’t want to marry hs son and
the Bandit helped me get out of Texas and away from the two of them! He’d never even
heard of the Bandit before that! I’m the one he can’t forgive, Deputy, and he’s taking it out
on my friends! Isn’t there some way I can make you believe me?”
Enos sighed; he wanted to believe her, and Luke. Suddenly the C.B. flared up like
the voice of his own conscience. “Jit! Jit! Enos, you dipstick, what’s the matter with
you? Don’t you know the truth when you hear it?”
Enos blinked; so did the others. Rosco was nowhere to be seen. “Sheriff? Is that
you? Where you at, Sheriff? How long you been listening to us?”
“Long enough to know that little lady is telling the gospel truth about that fat
Texas Toad. He not only set ’em up with that cocaine, he stole it right out of the Dallas
police department! That man’s crazier than a mule with the hydrophoby.”
Luke was on the air now. “Rosco! How’d you put all this together? You been
sitting at them speed traps reading Sherlock Holmes?”
“Didn’t have to go that far, Luke! It was his own kin put the finger on him! That
Justice Junior just shot his mouth off about what he and his daddy done. Thought the
whole thing was a joke, that they was smuggling talcalm powder! Sheriff Little’s got ’em
both now. Enos, I’m tellin’ ya, I gotta apologize to ya. Khee! Khee! Some lawmen got
worse dipsticks workin’ for ’em than I got!”
Enos brightened. “Golly, Sheriff–I sure do appreciate that!”
Luke came on again. “Rosco, that’s great. We even got evidence. Why don’t you
come along and help Enos give us police escort into Atlanta?”
“Oh, that sounds real nice, Luke Duke, and I’ll be there, quicker than a duck on a
june bug! But I’ll still be cuffin’ and stuffin’ that Bandit and Snowman!”
Bo and Luke’s faces fell. “What for?”
“They’s still haulin’ Coors, Luke! And that’s illegal!”
“Yeah, but Rosco!”
“I’m gone!”
Bo and Luke were shaking their heads. “I thought–” began Bo, like a man who’d
just been snookered at a poker game. “I really thought–”
Enos came back. “I’m really sorry, boys, Ma’am, but I got my orders. I gotta stop
y’all.”
“You can stop us if you can catch us, Enos! An’ that goes for you too, Rosco!”
Luke challenged. He turned to his cousin. Come on, Bo. We can lose ’em on the
backroads, we can lose ’em on the highway too. There’s your turnoff just ahead!”
Bo hit the Dixie horn in sheer defiance and steered ’round the ramp onto Interstate
’75 with Bandits One and Two ahead of them and Enos Strate hot on their tail.

Harlan switched the CB off, smirking, as he and Jason sped down one of the
backroads of Chickasaw county. “Ha! Ha! You see, Jason! I told you they’d head for
Atlanta, just like that crooked Sheriff said in the first place! An’ they’s on route 25! We’s
ahead of them! By cuttin’ through this neighbouring county we’ll be on the Interstate
ourselves in another minute, ‘n we can cut ’em off!”
“Cut ’em off on the Interstate? Harlan, that’s crazy!”
“How come? Who’s gonna think of it? We’ll be the last thing anyone’s expecting!
We’ll hijack that rig right offa the highway and hide it ourselves!”
“But–but what about witnesses?”
“Forget about witnesses! As long as we get that truck before it hits Atlanta, we’s
home free!”

Rosco, flying along the ridge, looked down to see a familiar blue sedan speeding
down the road. “It’s them gunslingers that was after me ‘n Boss! They gotta be in on this
whole thing too! Watch out, ’cause Rosco P. Coltrane’s a comin’!” He took the first dirt
track leading down.

Jason swore at the sound of the siren behind them. “It’s that Hazzard smokey
again! He’s stuck to us like a drunk to a bottle of shine! How we gonna hijack that rig
with him behind us?”
“We ain’t! Put his lights out for him! Permanent this time! Hurry up, dammit,
we’s almost there!”
Jason fired, knocking out one of Rosco’s headlights. Rosco flinched and reached
for his own gun, then remembered. “I ain’t got it–I left it with Boss Hogg! Little fat
meadowmuffin, I hope he’s satisfied!”

Harlan’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t mean shoot out his lights for real, fool! I meant
kill him!”
“I know what you meant, dammit, I–” Jason, turned to shout at his partner,
suddenly saw a sign up ahead. “There it is, Harlan! The I-75 on-ramp! Yeehaw! Atlanta
here we come!”
“I can see the sign, Jason, same as you! You keep your eyes on that Smokey back
there!”
Rosco shot up the ramp behind his prey. “Shootin’ on a public highway!” he
muttered. “I gotta stop ’em now, FBI or no FBI! Well, at least I can call in the state
highway patrol.” He flinched as another shot winged past. “And they can’t get here soon
enough for me!”
As they climbed to the apex of the on-ramp’s curve, Interstate 75 lay spread out on
either side like a glittering river of steel. Harlan gnawed his lip, wondering how far ahead
the rig had gotten, when the blast of a diesel horn blared out, music to Harlan’s ears. He
looked down to see the unmistakable 18 wheeler, with its side mural of the stage holdup,
barelling up the highway.
“Hallelujah! That rig is coming up this stretch right now! We can cut ’em off!
Damn it, Jason! Get that smokey off our tail once and for all!”
Jason leaned out and drew a bead on Rosco’s windshield. The sheriff desperately
wrenched the wheel sideways just as Jason fired.
The bullet blew Rosco’s left front tire and the patrol car began to swerve wildly.
Rosco veered the wheel opposite the spin and pumped his brakes in an effort to regain
control, but it was no use. As passing motorists watched in horror, Rosco’s car went
careening though the safety rail and plunged towards the Interstate.
The Snowman, just clearing the overpass, jumped at the terrible crash on his roof.
“Sweet Jesus! What the hell was that?”
Bo and Luke stared, speechless. The Bandit lifted his mike, wide eyes fixed on the
spectacle ahead. “Cledus, son, keep her steady! Don’t rock her, for Christ’s sake!”
“Why not?”
“You got a bear in the air up there, Snowman!”
“You mean a chopper?”
“He means Rosco!” Luke broke in. “His car’s on your roof, Snowman, and it’s
none too steady!”
Bo, Luke, the Bandit, Carrie and Enos stared spellbound at the sight ahead:
Rosco’s patrol car, perched sideways atop Bandit Two, its rear bumper and wheels
hanging over the edge and its nose pointing up in the air. Catching sight of the car’s rear
bumper in his side mirror, the Snowman swore and clutched the steering wheel. “What
the hell’s he think this is, a god damn u-haul?”
In the patrol car, Rosco was just as shocked as the rest of them. He hardly dared
to move as the car wobbled. “Thank goodness I left Flash at the courthouse! That
woulda killed ten ordinary dogs!”
But worse was yet to come. Harlan and Jason, hurtling along like a hawk after a
chicken, had pulled ahead of the 18 wheeler and opened fire. Cledus Snow ducked and
pulled Fred’s head down as a shot burst the truck’s right headlight. A second shot came
winging past and narrowly missed the General.
“Luke, it’s them fellas Daisy told us about! They’s shooting at the Snowman! He
don’t dare stop to pull off, much less slow down!”
“I know it, Bo. Rosco’s gotta get outta that car fast.”
“See if he’s still got his ears on-“ Suddenly Bo gasped. “Luke, look up ahead!”
In the black transam, Carrie screamed and the Bandit swore.
Looming ahead was another overpass, and the patrol car was tilted about two feet
two high to clear it.
“Rosco!” shouted Bo, while Luke and the Bandit yelled in unison on the C.B.
“Rosco! Look ahead of you!”
“Cledus, slow it down!”
“Get out of the car, Rosco! Get out of the car!”
They were bearing down on the overpass with terrible speed; Enos breathed a
prayer. “Dear Lord, if they’s any angels up there, please let ’em watch over the sheriff!”
Up atop the truck, Rosco witnessed his approaching doom. With no time to think,
he lunged for the passenger side and struggled with the door.
“Come on, Rosco, get outta there!” roared Luke. The overpass was nearly upon
them now. “Bo, get back outta the way.”
“What?”
“When that car comes off, we better not be under it!”
And then the great black arch was overhead. It clipped the front end of the big
patrol car and tossed it as easily as a flapjack on a griddle. “Look out, Bo!” screamed
Luke as two tons of Hazzard Country Patrol car came careening backwards off the tall 18
wheeler and crashed right in front of them. Glass shattered and metal shrieked as the car’s
force bounced it right up over the General Lee, to smash into the pavement behind. The
Duke boys, the Bandit and Carrie craned their necks ‘round to watch the car flip and roll
down the highway like a giant toy thrown by a giant child.
The CB exploded in a frenzy from both pursuers and passers-by.
“Lord have mercy! Did you see that?”
“Luke! Luke, this is Enos! Is the Sheriff okay?”
“Anybody in that car is canned meat, that’s what they is!”
“Enos!” The horrified Luke had managed to collect himself. “Look, you stay with
that wreck and steer people ‘round it. Call up the state highway patrol! We don’t want
any more people getting’ hurt in this.” He paused as Bo looked at him. “An’ if Rosco is
in there, get an ambulance out here quick!” He put down the mike, his eyes dark. “Keep
your eyes on the road, Bo. I’ll look for him.”
Suddenly a voice burst over the CB. “Hey, Duke boys! Look up yonder!
Smokey Bear ain’t in the fire, he’s still up a tree! Look!”
The boys looked beside them to where the Bandit and Carrie were pointing eagerly
to the top of the huge black transport. They looked up to see a head and an arm in a blue
sleeve protruding over the edge.
“Yeehaw!” cheered Bo. “I don’t believe it! Rosco got his tail out in time!”
“He’s still up there?” crackled Cledus Snow. “You mean I didn’t peel him off like
the tab off a can of Coors? That lucky devil!”
“Luke! Did I hear right? Is the sheriff still alive?”
Luke laughed. “Yup! Stick with the wreck, Enos, we’ll bring him home.”
Up ahead, Jason aimed another shot at the transport windshield. As the glass
cobwebbed, Cledus wrenched the wheel instinctively. The big truck lurched, and Bo and
Luke’s hearts dropped again as they watched Rosco suddenly slide until his leg hung over
the edge.
“Snowman, you gotta hold her steady, son, or we gonna be scrapin’ that smokey
off the blacktop!”
“Well, get him off my roof then, dammit! I can’t do nothin’ with Sherman’s army
bangin’ at my front door!”
“10-4, good buddy. I’m clear.” The Bandit turned to Carrie. “We gotta change
places, darlin’. I’m gonna go up there and get him down. Bo and Luke, listen up! Frog
here’s gonna drive. I’m gonna shinny up that tree an’ get that poor ol’ bear! You and the
General speed up and run block for the Snowman, come back.”
“Bandit, you run block. I’m going after Rosco myself,” Luke shot back.
“Luke, come on now. How are you gonna get him in the General Lee? You can’t
even open the doors! My transam’s got a sun-roof!”
“Okay, you pick him up, but I’m bringin’ him down. I was in the marines – I’m
used to this kinda thing. Ol’ Bo ‘ll run block. He’s used to that.”
“You win, Luke. But I’m still gonna help.” He looked at Carrie, whose eyes,
framed in her blowing hair, were wide as hubcaps. “Slide over here, darlin’,” he said,
tossing his cowboy hat into the back seat.
She smiled. “I thought you only took your hat off for one thing.”
“Later, honey. We gotta help the Sheriff get his feet under him.” Carrie nodded
and slid over as he rose up out of the seat and began to climb carefully up through the
sunroof.
“Aahhh! I can’t see!”
“Well, just go straight!”
“Get your foot out of the way! I can’t reach the pedal!”
“Well, slide down some more!”
“Then I won’t be able to see at all!”
Up atop the truck, windswept and battered by the truck’s constant swerving,
Rosco lay spread-eagled, clutching at the rivets with fingers and toes. “An’ I used to think
landing in Hazard pond was horrendous. I sure hope Flash ‘ll let Enos feed her from now
on!”
“Bo, bring her up close. When I get up there, take the General ahead and get after
those fellas.”
“Okay, Luke. You be careful, you hear?”
“You too.”
Bo eased the General Lee as close to the speeding truck’s bumper as he dared. As
Luke climbed out of the passenger window, he saw the Bandit perched on the transam’s
roof, his long legs hanging down inside the sun roof. He was hunched forward like a man
about to ride a bramah bull. Carrie’s hair streamed behind her as she clung grimly to the
wheel. “What the heck are you doin’?” Luke shouted above the din.
“You help him downstairs, Luke, an’ I’ll slip him into the rocking chair!” hollered
the Bandit, grinning. Luke gave him a thumbs up and clambered carefully up onto the
General’s hood.
Rosco stared ‘round him at the Georgia countryside whipping by. “Heck of a view
from up here,” he murmured, then heard his name being shouted. He peered down and
saw the black and orange cars below, and the men atop them. “Ooh! Are they crazy?”
“Hang on tight, Sheriff! The cavalry’s comin’!” called the Bandit, waving.
Rosco tried to wave back, but clutched the truck in a panic as he lurched sideways.
“Judas Priest on a pony! Another quiver like that an’ they’re gonna be pickin’ me up offa
this highway with a shovel!”
Poised like a cat, Luke leapt the distance between the two vehicles and clung to
the ladder rungs on the truck’s bay.
“Yeehaw!” shouted Bo. “Hang on, Luke!” With a blast of Dixie he backed off,
swerved sideways and roard up alongside the 18 wheeler to face the enemy.
“Gimme your hand, Rosco. I’m here to rescue ya,” said Luke as he climbed up
over the edge of the truck and onto the roof.
Relieved as he was, Rosco’s pride was stung. “Are you kidding? I don’t need no
help from no Duke! This truck’s fulla snow and it’s headed for Atlanta! And I don’t
mean snow as in Christmastime!”
“Dang it, Rosco, I know that, but they ain’t traffickin’ it, they’s turnin’ it in-“
“Ooh! Not if I cuff ‘em an’ stuff ‘em first-“
The truck swerved again, jerking brutally back and forth, and Luke, about to argue
with Rosco, lost his balance and was hurled towards the edge with sickening force.
“Luke!” Rosco’s hand shot out and caught Luke’s shirt in a grip of steel. The
good, rough country homespun held, and Luke hung a moment, his legs flailing over the
edge like a rag doll’s.
“I gotcha, Luke, come on! Get up here, dang it! No tellin’ when he’ll do that
again!”
With a great effort, Luke hooked his boot over the truck’s edge and with Rosco’s
help, pulled himself back onto the truck.
“Khee! Khee!” Rosco grinned. “Who’s rescuin’ who now?”
“Look, can we argue about that some other time? Let’s just get outta here!”
Out in front of the truck, the General Lee had pulled in front of the cab. Bo
rammed into the blue sedan and Jason’ next shot went wild, winging the truck’s side
mirror.
“Fred, get your head in here, son, unless you want it blown off! Come on!”
Cledus grabbed Fred’s collar and hauled the big basset back onto the seat. “Go get ‘em,
General! Yeehaw!”
Dixie blared anew and Bo slammed the sedan a second time.
Behind them, Luke and Rosco were climbing gingerly down the metal rungs as the
wind tore at them. Luke kept one arm ‘round the sheriff, whose fingers were numb and
aching from hanging on so long. “Easy does it, Rosco. Almost there.”
Carrie eased the black transam up until the hood was nearly under the truck’s
body. The Bandit rose as high off his seat as he dared. “Keep her steady, darlin’. Heh!
Heh! First time I ever took on a smokey as a hitchhiker!”
There was no way either Luke or Rosco would chance Rosco’s jumping onto the
speeding transam. “Get your one foot on the hood, Rosco. The Bandit and me ‘ll do the
rest.” He held onto Rosco’s arm as the sheriff reached out with one foot and tried to get a
purchase.
“Jit jit! Luke, I thought I joined the police force, not a travelling circus!”
“Take it easy, Rosco. You’re doin’ fine. Now just get the other foot down there
and the The Bandit’ll–.”
The truck suddenly jerked back and forth again and Luke, unable to absorb the
shock, jerked Rosco’s arm helplessly. Rosco lost his footing.
Instantly the Bandit lunged to grab one flailing foot as Luke reinforced his grip on
Rosco’s arm. Rosco sputtered at the Bandit. “Get your cabbage clutches offa my foot
back there, Mr.! I ain’t no dancin’ girl!”
“Rosco, you want to end up under the wheels? Let him help you!”
Rosco was stretched out like a line of washing, one foot in the bandit’s grasp, one
foot on the hood, and both hands clutching Luke’s arm. “Bring the car up, Frog, before
we tear him in two!”
The car inched up, and Rosco looked up at Luke. “This is embarrasin’! I look like
somethin’ outta the Russian ballet!”
Luke could see it wasn’t working. “Let go of his foot, Bandit. Let him put his
weight back on it. Then he’ll grab your arm!”
Rosco gratefully yanked his foot back and planted it on the hood. Then he
carefully disengaged one arm from Luke and reached back for the Bandit. The Bandit
caught him.
“We oughtta arm wrestle after this, Rosco,” Luke laughed, and pushing him
towards the Bandit, released him.
Rosco fell against the transam’s windshield as the Bandit hung onto him. “We got
him, Luke! Nice work, good buddy!”
Rosco crawled over the transam’s windshield and through the sunroof, to slide
with a clunk into the passenger seat. “Welcome aboard, Sheriff!” said Carrie.
“I appreciate it,” Rosco murmured, still half in shock.
“Ease it on into the backseat, there, Sheriff. We’re gonna get Luke now!”
“Ooh!” Rosco gasped as Carrie reached down and jerked the seat rest. He flipped
straight backwards and found himself staring at the transam’s roof and the Bandit’s legs.
“Doh! Lady, you just scuffed my posterior there-“ but wriggled obediently into the
backseat as the transam drew up on the truck again.
“Come on, Luke! Reach out to me, good buddy!”
Up ahead, Bo saw the truck swerve again. “Luke!” he called into the CB.
“Bandit, is Luke and Rosco OK?”
Carrie pried her white fingers off the wheel and took the mike. “The sheriff’s in
our back seat, safe and sound. And Luke’s on his way. Say, Bo, remember Richard
Petty? I bet I could give him a run for his money!”
The Bandit couldn’t help laughing. “Come on, Luke. Frog’s ready for the Indy
500!”
Luke saw his chance and leaped for the Transam’s hood. He landed on his feet
and clutched gratefully at the Bandit’s outstretched arms. “It’s a bit crowded, but Frog
here can just sit on my knee.”
Everyone on the highway was cheering as Luke clambered safely in. Carrie passed
the mike up. “We got ‘em both, Beauregard, Snowman! Give ‘em hell! We’ve got your
back door. And I’m clear.
Cledus gave a whoop of joy. “No more freeloaders, Fred! Let’s get ‘em!” He
slammed the pedal to the floor and blew the whistle as he sped forward and rammed the
blue sedan from behind. Bo slammed the sedan from the side until its occupants were
knocked silly. Then Bandit one, creeping out from behind the truck like a black panther,
slammed the sedan from the other side and sent it whirling off the highway and onto the
shoulder.
Bo was ramming the heel of his hand into Dixie’s horn as if he meant to wake the
whole Confederate Army. He brought the General to a skidding halt on the shoulder in
front of the sedan as the transam neatly pulled in behind.
Luke hopped out and offered a hand to Rosco, who batted it away. “I don’t need
your hand, Luke Duke. I ain’t in the old sheriff’s home yet.” Loaded for bear, Rosco
stalked over to the sedan, where Bo was yanking the dazed Harlan and Jason into the
sunlight. “All right, you mavericks! Assume the position. I ain’t a gonna tell you but
once.”
Bo and Luke exchanged surprised glances at the extent of Rosco’s anger, but took
the cuffs he tossed them and secured the prisoners without a word. Rosco was still
fuming. “Endangerin’ all kinds of people on a public highway…tryin’ to run drugs in my
county! Hangin’s too good for the likes of you!”
“You got that right, Rosco,” Luke murmured. “But at least they’ll be put away for
a good long time.”
Rosco gestured towards the Bandit, who’d exchanged places with Carrie in the
transam’s driver seat. “Mr. Bandit, I’m condameering your car for the transportation of
these two criminals to jail. And I’m also arrestin’ you for–”
The revving of the transam’s engine cut him off. The Bandit tipped his hat,
grinning. “Sorry, Sheriff. We got a date with the FBI. We wanna be there when it snows
it Atlanta!” He smiled at Carrie. “And then we’ve got us a date at a church–one Frog
here ain’t running out on! Catch you on the flipflop! And keep the shiny side up!”
“Goodbye, Bo, Luke!” called the overjoyed Carrie. “Thanks for everything!” As
Rosco opened his mouth to protest, the transam roared off after the Snowman and the rig.
Bo and Luke laughed and waved them off.
“Jit! Jit! Boys, as your sheriff I’m ordering you to get after them and make a
citizen’s arrest!”
“Oh, Rosco, come on now!” protested Luke. “They just helped save your life!
And anyway, the FBI’s expecting them! They might wonder what’s going on if the
Bandit’s late.”
Rosco was losing steam. As Jason lifted his head up and demanded to be read his
rights, the sheriff pushed him back against the hood. “Hush! Just hush! You’ll have
plenty of time to hear your rights, don’t you worry none!”
Bo smiled slyly. “And don’t you worry none either, Rosco. Enos’s called the state
highway patrol. They’ll be along in a minute to take charge of these here prisoners–and to
give you all the credit for catching them.”
“Oh.” Rosco’s bad mood evaporated completely. “Well, that’s handsome of you
boys. That’s right handsome! Khee! Khee! I can see the headline now in the Hazzard
Gazzette! Sheriff catches desperate drug-runners single-handed! Oh, I love it!” He
suddenly paused as he looked at the boys. “Well…wasn’t quite single-handed, was it?
Boys…you especially, Luke…I wanna thank you. You got a dang good grip.”
Luke smiled. “Thank you, Rosco. So do you.”