Chasing a Moonshiner "Far and Squar"

A policeman with wrecked automobile and
confiscated moonshiner, 1922. Pairing this picture with
the story here is not quite accurate. The story here about
"Byron" probably happened in either the 1950s or 1960s.
(From: Wikipedia) 

"'The facets of human nature are never in greater play.' These are Byron's words (though Byron is not his real name), which explain the fascination of his work to him and the common bond between the moonshiner, or blockader, and the revenuer. At their best, they respect each other as honorable men constantly testing each other over the years to determine whose skills are the sharper honed.

Once, for example, Byron was chasing a moonshiner's car through the mountains. He thought he was gaining ground when suddenly he missed a curve and spun into a ditch. The moonshiner could have made a clean getaway, but instead his car backed up as fast as he'd been moving forward.

'You hurt, captain?' asked the mountain man. He insisted on calling Byron captain, even though he'd only been a sergeant in the Marine Corps.

Then, however, he saw that Byron was unhurt and could back the car out of the ditch. 'How fur ahead of you was I?'

'Down to the turn, I think,' replied the revenue agent.

'Reckon it was a quarter mile more, captain.'

Byron knew that man was being truthful, according to the codes. If he or any other agent were to testify in court that a moonshiner on a chase was driving 120 miles per hour when he actually was doing only 90, that would not be playing 'far and squar.' An agent who lies is an unworthy competitor.

They resumed their positions and the pursuit went on. Byron failed to catch the man. The next time he came into Balsam Grove, he was asked with a smile, 'How's your driving, captain?'

And he was obliged to reply, 'Improving.'" (284)
--Michael Frome, Strangers in High Places: The Story of the Great Smoky Mountains