the trail of the white mule-第20部分

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owned　him　fer　a　friend！〃　snarled　Casey；　thinking　of　Kenner。　
〃Me　CASEY　RYAN！with　a　load　uh　booze　wished　onto　meand　a　car
that　may　have　been　stolen　fer　all　I　knowan'　not　a　darn'　nickel
to　my　name！　They　can　make　a　goat　uh　Casey　Ryan　once；　but　watch
clost　when　they　try　it　the　second　time！　　Casey　MAY　be　gittin'
old；　he　might　possibly　have　softenin'　of　the　brain；　but　he'll　git
the　skunk　that　done　this；　or　you'll　find　his　carcass　layin'
alongside　the　trail　bleachin'　like　a　blowed…out　tire！　　I'll　trail
'im　till　my　tongue　hangs　down　to　my　knees！　　I'll　git　'im　an'　I'll
drown　'im　face　down　in　a　bucket　of　his　own　booze！〃　　Whipped　by
emotion；　his　voice　rose　stridently　until　it　cracked　just　under　a
shout。

〃That　sounds　pretty　businesslike；　old　man；〃　a　strange　voice　spoke
whimsically　behind　Casey。　　〃Who's　all　this　you're　going　to　trail
till　your　tongue　hangs　down　to　your　knees？　　Going　to　need　any
help？〃

Casey　whirled　belligerently　upon　the　man　who　had　walked　quietly
up　behind　him。

〃Where　the　hell　did　YOU　come　from？〃　he　countered　roughly。

〃Does　it　matter？　　I'm　here；〃　the　other　parried　blandly。　　〃But　by
the　way！　　If　you've　got　the　makings　of　a　meal　in　your　carand
you　look　too　old　a　hand　in　the　desert　to　be　without　grubI　won't
refuse　to　have　a　snack　with　you。　　I　hate　to　invite　myself　to
breakfast；　but　it's　that　or　go　hungryand　an　empty　belly　won't
stand　on　ceremony。〃

The　hard…bitten　features　of　Casey　Ryan；　tanned　as　they　were　by
wind　and　sun　to　a　fair　imitation　of　leather；　were　never　meant　to
portray　mixed　emotions。　　His　face；　therefore；　remained　impassive
except　for　a　queer；　cornered　look　in　his　eyes。　　With　a　sick
feeling　at　the　pit　of　his　stomach　he　wondered　just　how　much　of
his　impassioned　soliloquy　the　man　had　overheard；　who　and　what
this　man　was；　and　how　he　had　managed　to　approach　within　six　feet
of　Casey　without　being　overheard。　　With　a　sicker　feeling；　he
wondered　if　there　were　any　grub　in　the　car；　and　if　so；　how　he
could　get　at　it　without　revealing　his　contraband　load　to　this
stranger。

But　Casey　Ryan　was　nothing　if　not　game。　　He　reached　for　his
trusty　plug　of　tobacco　and　pried　off　a　corner　with　his　teeth。　　He
lifted　his　left　hand　mechanically　to　the　back　of　his　head　and
pushed　his　black　felt　hat　forward　so　that　it　rested　over　his
right　eyebrow　at　a　devil…may…care　angle。　　These　preparations　made
involuntarily　and　unconsciously；　Casey　Ryan　was　himself　again。

〃All　rightif　you're　willin'　to　rustle　the　wood　an'　start　a
fire；　I'll　see　if　I　can　dig　up　somethin'。〃　　He　cocked　an　eye　up
at　the　sun。　〃I　et　my　breakfast　long　enough　ago　so　I　guess　it's
settled。　I　reckon　mebby　I　c'd　take　on　some　bacon　an'　coffee
myself。　　Feller　I　had　along　with　me　I　ditched；　back　here　at　the
railroad。　　He　done　the　packin'　upan'　I'd　hate　to　swear　to　what
he　put　in　an'　what　he　left　out。　　Onery　cussI　wouldn't　put
nothin'　past　him。　　But　mebby　we　can　make　out　a　meal。〃

The　stranger　seemed　perfectly　satisfied　with　this　arrangement　and
studied　preamble。　　He　started　off　to　gather　dead　branches　of
greasewood；　and　Casey；　having　prepared　the　way　for　possible
disappointment；　turned　toward　the　car。

Fear　and　Casey　Ryan　have　ever　been　strangers；　yet　he　was
conscious　of　a　distinct；　prickly　chill　down　his　spine。　　The
glance　he　cast　over　his　shoulder　at　the　stranger　betrayed
uneasiness；　best　he　could　do。　　He　turned　over　the　roll　of　bedding
and　cautiously　began　a　superficial　search　which　he　hoped　would
reveal　grub　in　plenty　without　revealing　anything　else。　　He
wished　now　that　he　had　taken　a　look　over　his　shoulder　when　young
Kenner　was　unloading　the　car　at　Smiling　Lou's　command。　　He　would
be　better　prepared　now　for　possible　emergencies。　　He　remembered；
with　a　bit　of　comfort；　that　the　bootlegger　had　piled　a　good　deal
of　stuff　upon　the　ground　before　Casey　first　heard　the　clink　of
bottles。

A　grunt　of　relief　signaled　his　location　of　a　box　containing　grub。
A　moment　later　he　lifted　out　a　gunny　sack　bulging　unevenly　with
cooking　utensils。　　He　fished　a　little　deeper；　turned　back　a
folded　tarp　and　laid　naked　to　his　eyes　the　top　of　a　whisky　keg。　
With　a　grunt　of　consternation　he　hastily　replaced　the　tarp；　his
heart　flopping　in　his　chest　like　a　fresh…landed　fish。

The　stranger　was　kneeling　beside　a　faintly　crackling　little　pile
of　twigs；　his　face　turned　inquiringly　toward；　Casey。　　Casey；
glancing　guiltily　over　his　shoulder；　felt　the　chill　hand　of
discovery　reaching　for　his　very　soul。　　It　was　as　if　a　dead　man
were　hidden　away　beneath　that　tarp。　　It　seemed　to　him　that　the
eyes　of　the　stranger　were　sharp；　suspicious　eyes；　and　that　they
dwelt　upon　him　altogether　too　attentively　for　a　perfectly
justifiable　interest　even　in　the　box　of　grub。

Black　coffee；　drunk　hot　and　strong；　gave　the　world　a　brighter
aspect。　Casey　decided　that　the　situation　was　not　so　desperate；
after　all。　Easy　enough　to　bluff　it　outeasiest　thing　in　the
world！　　He　would　just　go　along　as　if　there　wasn't　a　thing　on　his
mind　heavier　than　his　thinning；　sandy　hair。　　No　man　living　had
any　right　or　business　snooping　around　in　his　car；　unless　he
carried　a　badge　of　an　officer　of　the　law。　　Even　with　the　badge；
Casey　told　himself　sternly；　a　man　would　have　to　show　a　warrant
before　he　could　touch　a　finger　to　his　outfit。

Over　his　third　cup　of　coffee　Casey　eyed　the　stranger　guardedly。
He　did　not　look　like　an　officer。　　He　was　not　big　and　burly；　with
arrogant　eyes　and　the　hint　of　leashed　authority　in　his　tone。
Instead；　he　was　of　medium　height；　owned　a　pair　of　shrewd　gray
eyes　and　an　easy　drawl；　and　was　dressed　in　the　half　military
style　so　popular　with　mining　men；　surveyors　and　others　who　can
afford　to　choose　what　garb　they　will　adopt　for　outdoor　living。

He　had　shown　a　perfect　familiarity　with　cooking　over　a　campfire；
and　had　fried　the　bacon　in　a　manner　which　even　Casey　could　not
criticize。　　Before　the　coffee　was　boiled　he　had　told　Casey　that
his　name　was　Mack　Nolan。　　Immediately　afterward　he　had　grinned
and　added　the　superfluous　information　that　he　was　Irish　and
didn't　care　who　knew　it。

〃Well；　I'm　Irish；　meself；〃　Casey　returned　approvingly　and　with
more　than　his　usual　brogue。　　〃You　can　ask　anybody　if　Casey　Ryan
has　ever　showed　shame　fer　the　blood　that's　in'　'im。　　'Tis　the
Irish　that　never　backs　up　from　a　rough　trail　or　a　fight。〃　　He
poured　a　fourth　cup　of　coffee　into　a　chipped　enamel　cup　and　took
his　courage　in　his　two　hands。　　Mack　Nolan；　he　assured　himself
optimistically；　couldn't　possibly　know　what　lay　hidden　under　the
camp　outfit　in　the　Ford。　　Until　he　did　know；　he　was　harmless　as
anybody；　so　long　as　Casey　kept　an　eye　on　him。



CHAPTER　THIRTEEN

During　the　companionable　smoke　that　followed　breakfast；　Casey
learned　that　Mack　Nolan　had　spent　some　time　in　Nevada；　ambling
through　the　hills；　examining　the　geologic　formation　of　the
country　with　a　view　to　possible　future　prospecting　in　districts
yet　undeveloped。

〃The　mineral　possibilities　of　Nevada　haven't　been　more　than
scratched；〃　Mack　Nolan　observed；　lying　back　with　one　arm　thrown
up　under　his　head　as　a　makeshift　pillow　and　the　other　hand
negligently　attending　to　the　cigarette　he　was　smoking。　　His　gray
army　hat　was　tilted　over　his　eyes；　shielding　them　from　the　sun
while　they　dwelt　rather　studiously　upon　the　face　of　Casey　Ryan。

〃Every　spring　I　like　to　get　out　and　poke　around　through　these
hills　where　folks　as　a　rule　don't　go。　　Never　did　much
prospectingas　such。　Don't　take　kindly　enough　to　a　pick　and
shovel　for　that。　　What　I　like　best　is　general　field　work。　　If　I
run　across　something　rich；　time　enough　then　to　locate　a　claim　or
two　and　hire　a　couple　of　strong　backs　to　do　the　digging。

〃I've　been　out　now　for　about　three　weeks；　and　night　before　last；
just　as　I　stopped　to　make　camp　and　before　I'd　started　to　unpack；
my　two　mules　got　scared　at　a　rattler　and　quit　the　country。　　Left
me　flat；　without　a　thing　but　my　clothes　and　six…shooter；　and　what
I　had　in　my　pockets。〃　　He　lifted　the　cigarette　from　between　his
lipsthin；　they　were；　and　curved　and　rather　pitiless；　one　could
guess；　if　the　man　were　sufficiently　roused。

〃I　wasted　all　yesterday　trying　to　trail　'em。　　But　you　can't　do
much　tracking　in　these　rocks　back　here　toward　the　river。　　I　was
hitting　for　the　highway　to　catch　a　ride　if　I　could；　when　I　saw
you　topping　this　last　ridge　over　here。　　Don't　blame　me　much　for
bumming　a　breakfast；　do　you？〃　　And　he　added；　with　a　sigh　of　deep
physical　content；　〃It　sure…lee　was　some　feed！〃

His　lids　drooped　lower　as　if　sleep　were　overtaking　him　in　spite
of　himself。　　〃I'd　ask　yuh　if　you'd　seen　anything　of　those　mules
only　I　don't　give　a　damn　now。　　I　wish　this　was　night　instead　of
noon；　I　could　sleep　the　clock　around　after　that　bacon　and　bannock
of　yours。　　Haven't　a　care　in　the　world；〃　he　murmured　drowsily。
〃Happy　as　a　toad　in　the　sun；　first　warm　day　of　spring。　　How　soon
you　going　to　crank　up？〃

Casey　stared　at　him　unwinkingly　through　narrowed　lids。　　He　pushed
his　hat　forward　with　a　sharp　tilt　over　his　eyebrowwhich　meant
always　that　Casey　Ryan　had　just　0。　K。'd　an　ideaand　reached　for
his　chewing　tobacco。

〃Go　ahead　an'　take　a　nap　if　yuh　want　to；〃　he　urged。　　〃I　got　some
tinkerin'　to　do　on　the　Ford；　an'　I　was　aimin'　to　lay　over　here
an'　do　it。　　I'm　kinda　lookin'　around；　myself；　for　a　likely
prospect；　I　got　all　the　time　there　is。　　I　guess　I'll　back　the　car
down　the　draw　a　piece　where　she'll　set　level；　an'　clean　up　'er
dingbats　whilst　you　take　a　sleep。〃

Casey　left　the　breakfast　things　where　they　were；　as　a　silent
reassurance　to　Mack　Nolan　that　the　car　would　not　go　off　without
him。　It　was　a　fine；　psychological　detail　of　which　Casey　was
secretly　rather　proud。　　A　box　of　grub；　a　smoked　coffee　pot　and
dirty　breakfast　dishes　left　beside　a　dead　campfire　establishes
evidence；　admissible　before　any　jury；　that　the　owner　means　to
return。

Casey　went　over　and　cranked　the　Ford；　grimly　determined　to　make
the　coffee　pot　lie　for　him　if　necessary。　　He　backed　the　car　down
the　draw　a　good　seventy…five　yards；　to　where　a　wrinkle　in　the
bank　hid　him　from　the　breakfast　camp。　　He　stopped　there　and　left
the　engine　running　while　he　straddled　out　over　the　side　and　went
forward　to　the　dip　of　the　front　fender　to　see　if　the　Ford　were
still　visible　to　Mack　Nolan。　　He　w