the trail of the white mule-第27部分

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He　succeeded　in　making　three　different　parties　swallow　their
supper　in　a　hurry　and　pack　up　and　leave；　glancing　back　uneasily
at　Casey　as　they　drove　away。　　But　Casey　himself　was　unmolested；
and　no　one　asked　about　his　load。

From　Camp　Cajon　to　San　Bernardino　Casey　drove　furiously；
remembering　young　Kenner's　desire　for　speed。　　He　stopped　there
for　the　night；　and　nearly　had　a　fight　with　the　garage　man　where
he　put　up；　because　he　showed　undue　caution　concerning　the　safety
of　his　car　from　prowlers　during　the　night。

He　left　the　car　there　that　day　and　returned　furtively　after　dark；
asking　the　night　man　if　he　had　seen　any　saps　around　his　car。　The
night　man　looked　at　him　uncomprehendingly。

〃I　dunnonothin's　been　picked　up　since　I　come　on　at　six。　　We
ain't　responsible　for　lost　articles；　anyway。　　See　that　sign？〃

Casey　grunted；　cranked　up　and　drove　away；　wondering　whether　the
night　man　was　as　innocent　as　he　tried　to　act。

From　San　Bernardino　to　Los　Angeles　Casey　drove　placidly　as　a　load
of　oranges　in　February。　　He　put　up　at　a　cheap　place　on　San　Pedro
Street；　with　his　car　in　the　garage　next　door　and　a　five…dollar
tip　in　the　palm　of　a　rat…faced　mechanic　with　Casey's　injunction
to　clean　'er　dingbats　and　keep　other　people　away。

He　did　not　go　out　to　see　the　Little　Woman；　after　all。　　He　had
sent　her　a　wire　from　Goffs　the　day　before；　saying　that　he　was
prospecting　with　a　fellow　and　he　hoped　she　was　well。　　This；　after
long　pondering；　had　seemed　to　him　the　easiest　way　out　of　an
argument　with　the　Little　Woman。　　The　wire　had　given　no　address
whereby　she　might　reach　him；　but　the　omission　was　not　the
oversight　Casey　hoped　she　would　consider　it。　　He　wanted　to　be
reassuring　without　starting　anything。

Los　Angeles　with　no　Little　Woman　at　his　elbow　was　a　dismal　hole；
and　Casey　got　out　of　it　as　soon　as　possible。　　As　per
instructions；　he　drove　down　to　San　Diego；　ventured　perilously
close　to　the　Mexico　line；　fooled　around　there　for　a　day　looking
for　trouble；　failed　to　find　so　much　as　a　frown　and　drove　back。

He　headed　straight　for　San　Bernardino；　which　was　Smiling　Lou's
headquarters。　　He　killed　time　there　and　met　the　sheriff　on　the
street　the　day　he　arrived。　　The　sheriff　had　a　memory　trained　to
hold　faces　indefinitely。　　He　smiled　a　little；　made　a　polite
gesture　in　the　general　direction　of　his　hat　and　passed　on。　　Casey
swore　to　himself　and　resolved　to　duck　guiltily　around　the　nearest
corner　if　he　saw　the　sheriff　coming　his　way　again。

On　the　day　when　his　time　limit　expired　Casey　drove　up　the　gulch
to　Nolan's　camp。　　In　the　car　behind　him　rode　undisturbed　his
Canadian　Club；　Garnkirk；　Three…Star　Hennessey；　Cognac　and　Tom
Pepper；　bottles；　labels；　government　seals　and　all。　　Nolan　was
walking　over　from　the　tunnel　when　Casey　arrived。　　He　smiled
inquiringly　as　he　shook　hands；　a　ceremony　to　which　Casey　was
plainly　unaccustomed。

〃What　luck；　Ryan？　　I　beat　you　back　by　about　two　hours。　　Getting
things　ready　to　begin　making　it。　Did　they　catch　you　all　right？〃

〃Naw！〃　Casey　spat　disgustedly。　　〃Never　seen　a　booze　peddler；
never　seen　a　cop　look　my　way。　　I　went　around　actin'　like　I　just
killed　a　man　an'　stole　a　lady's　diamonds；　and　the　sheriff　at　San
Berdoo　TIPS　'IS　HAT　TO　ME；　by　golly！　　Drove　through　L。　A。
hella…whoopin'　an'　not　a　darned　traffic　cop　knowed　it　was　Casey
Ryan。　　You　can　ask　anybody　if　I　didn't　do　every　thing　possible　to
git　in　bad　or　give　bootleggers　a　tip　I　was　one　of　'em。

〃You　can't　git　Casey　Ryan　up　agin'　the　gang　you're　after；　Mr。
Nolan。　Only　way　Casey　Ryan　can　git　up　agin'　the　law　is　to　go
along　peaceable　tryin'　to　please　the　missus　an'　mindin'　his　own
business。　　I　coulda　peddled　that　damn'　hootch　on　a　hangin'　tray
like　circus　lemonade。　I　coulda　stood　on　the　corner　in　any　uh　them
damned　towns　with　the　hull　works　piled　out　on　a　table　in　front　of
me；　an'　I　coulda　hollered　my　damn'　head　off　；　an'　Smilin'　Lou
woulda　passed　me　by　like　I　was　sellin'　chewin'　gum　and　shoe
strings。〃

Mack　Nolan　looked　at　Casey；　turned　and　went　into　the　cabin；　sat
down　on　the　edge　of　the　bed　and　laughed　until　the　tears　dripped
over　his　lashes。　　Casey　Ryan　followed　him；　and　sat　on　the　edge　of
the　table　with　his　arms　folded。　　Whenever　Mack　Nolan　lifted　his
face　from　his　palms　and　looked　at　Casey；　Casey　swore。　　Whereat
Mack　Nolan　would　give　another　whoop。

You　can't　wonder　if　relations　were　somewhat　strained；　between
them　for　the　rest　of　that　day。



CHAPTER　NINETEEN

Nature　had　made　Casey　Ryan　an　optimist。　　The　blood　of　Ireland　had
made　him　pugnacious。　　And　Mack　Nolan　had　a　way　with　him。　
Wherefore；　Casey　Ryan　once　more　came　larruping　down　the　grade　to
Camp　Cajon　and　turned　in　there　with　a　dogged　purpose　in　his　eyes
and　with　his　jaw　set　stubbornly。　　History　has　it　that　whenever
Casey　Ryan　gets　that　look　in　his　face；　the　man　underneath　might
just　as　well　holler　and　crawl　out；　because　holler　he　must；　before
Casey　would　ever　let　him　up。

Behind　him；　stowed　under　the　bedding；　grub　and　camp　dishes；　rode
his　eight　cases　of　bootlegger's　bait；　packed　convincingly　in　the
sawdust；　straw　and　cardboard　of　the　wet　old　days　when　Uncle　Sam
himself　0。　K。'd　the　job。　　A　chain　of　tiny　beads　at　the　top　of
each　bottle　lied　and　said　it　was　good　liquor。　　The　boxes
themselves　said；　〃This　side　up〃when　any　side　up　would　thrill
the　soul　of　the　man　who　owned　a　wet　appetite　and　a　dry　throat。

It　was　a　good　job　Mack　Nolan　had　made　of　the　bottling。　　Uncle　Sam
himself　must　needs　polish　his　spectacles　and　take　another　look　to
detect　the　fraud。　　It　was　a　marvelous　job　of　bottling；and　the
proof　lay　only　in　the　drinking。　　〃Tommy〃　Pepper　rode　in　pint
flasks　designed　to　slip　safely　into　a　man's　coat　pocket。　　Beside
him　two　cases　of　Canadian　Club　（if　you　were　satisfied　with　the
evidence　of　your　eyes）　sat　serene　in　round…shouldered
bottlesconventional；　secure　in　its　reputation。　　Cognac　and
Garnkirk；　a　case　for　each；　rode　in　tall；　slim　bottles　with　no
shoulders　at　all。　　Plumper　than　they；　Three　Star　Hennessey　sat
smugly　waiting　until　the　joke　was　turned　upon　its　victim。　　A
tempting　load　it　was；　to　men　of　certain　minds　and　morals。　　Casey
grinned　sardonically　when　he　thought　of　it。

Casey　drove　deep　into　the　grove　of　sycamores　and　made　camp　there；
away　from　the　chattering　picnic　parties　at　the　cement　tables。　By
Mack　Nolan's　advice　he　was　adopting　a　slightly　different　policy。
He　no　longer　shunned　his　fellow　men　or　glared　suspiciously　when
strangers　approached。　　Instead　he　was　very　nearly　the　old　Casey
Ryan；　except　that　he　failed　to　state　his　name　and　business　to　all
and　sundry　with　the　old　Casey　Ryan　candor；　but　instead　avoided
the　subject　altogether　or　evaded　questions　with　vague
generalities。

But　as　an　understudy　for　Ananias；　Casey　Ryan　would　have　been　a
failure。　In　two　hours　or　less　he　had　made　easy　trail　acquaintance
with　six　different　men；　and　he　had　unconsciously　managed　to　vary
his　vague　account　of　himself　six　different　times。　　Wherefore　he
was　presently　asked　cautiously　concerning　his　thirst。

〃They's　times；〃　said　Casey；　hopefully　lowering　an　eyelid；　〃when　a
feller　dassent　take　a　nip；　no　matter　how　thirsty　he　gits。〃

The　questioner　stared　at　him　for　a　minute　and　slowly　nodded。
〃You're　darn'　right；〃　he　assented。　　〃I　scursely　ever　touch
anything；　myself。〃　　And　he　added　vaguely；　〃Quite　a　lot　of　it
peddled　out　here　in　this　camp；　I　guess。　　Tourists　comin'　through
are　scared　to　pack　it　themselvesbut　they　sure　don't　overlook
any　chances　to　take　a　snort。〃

〃Yeah？〃　　Casey　cocked　a　knowing　eye　at　the　speaker。　　〃They　must
pay　a　pretty　fair　price　fer　it；　too。　　Don't　the　cops　bother　folks
none？〃

〃SomeI　guess。〃

Casey　filled　his　pipe　and　offered　his　tobacco　sack　to　the　man。
The　fellow　took　it；　nodding　listless　thanks；　and　filled　his　own
pipe。　The　two　sat　down　together　on　the　knee　of　a　deformed
sycamore　and　smoked　in　circumspect　silence。

〃Arizona；　I　see。〃　　The　man　nodded　toward　the　license　plates　on
Casey's　car。

〃Uh…huh。〃　　Casey　glanced　that　way。　　〃Know　a　man　name　of　Kenner？〃
He　asked　abruptly。

The　fellow　looked　at　Casey　sidelong；　without　turning　his　head。

〃Some。　Do　you？〃

〃Some。〃　　Casey　felt　that　he　was　making　headway；　though　it　was　a
good　deal　like　playing　checkers　with　the　king　row　wide　open　and
only　two　crowned　heads　to　defend　his　men。

〃Friend　uh　yours？〃　　The　fellow　turned　his　head　and　looked
straight　at　Casey。

Casey　returned　him　a　pale；　straight…lidded　stare。　　The　man's
glance　flickered　and　swung　away。

〃Who　wants　to　know？〃　　Casey　asked　calmly。

〃Oh；　you　can　call　me　Jim　Cassidy。　　I　just　asked。〃　　He　removed　his
pipe　from　his　mouth　and　inspected　it　apathetically。　　〃He's　a
friend　of　Bill　Masters；　garage　man　up　at　Lund。　　Know　Bill？〃

〃Any　man　says　I　don't；　you　can　call　'im　a　liar。〃　　Casey　also
inspected　his　pipe。　　〃Bought　that　car　off'n　Kenner；〃　　Casey　added
boldly。　Getting　into　trouble；　he　discovered；　carried　almost　the
thrill　of　trying　to　keep　out　of　it。

〃Yeah？〃　　The　self…styled　Jim　Cassidy　looked　at　the　Ford　more
attentively。　　〃And　contents？〃

Casey　snorted。　　〃What　do　you　know　about　goats；　if　anything？〃　he
asked　mysteriously。

Jim　Cassidy　eyed　Casey　sidelong　through　a　silence。　　Then　he
brought　his　palm　down　flat　on　his　thigh　and　laughed。

〃You　pass；〃　he　stated；　with　a　relieved　sigh。　〃He's　a　dinger；
ain't　he？〃

〃You　know　'im；　all　right。〃　Casey　also　laughed　and　put　out　his
hand。　〃If　you're　a　friend　of　Kenner's；　shake　hands　with　Casey
Ryan！　　He's　damned　glad　to　meet　yuhan'　you　can　ask　anybody　if
that　ain't　the　truth。〃

After　that　the　acquaintance　progressed　more　smoothly。　　By　the
time　Casey　spread　his　bed　close　alongside　the　carhe　knew　just
how　much　booze　Jim　Cassidy　carried；　just　what　Cassidy　expected　to
make　off　the　load；　and　a　good　many　other　bits　of　information　of
no　particular　use　to　Casey。

A　strange；　inner　excitement　held　Casey　awake　long　after　Jim
Cassidy　was　asleep　snoring。　　He　lay　looking　up　into　the　leafy
branches　of　the　sycamore　beside　him　and　watched　a　star　slip
slowly　across　an　open　space　between　the　branches。　　Farther　up　the
grove　a　hilarious　group　of　young　hikers　sang　snatches　of　songs　to
the　uncertain　accompaniment　of　a　ukelele。　　A　hundred　feet　away　on
his　right；　occasional　cars　went　coasting　past　on　the