Barney Oakes!--but any
man with a drop of Irish in his blood and a bit of Irish twinkle in his
eye would turn his back on defeat and try again for a winning.

They had just passed over a hilly stretch with many turns and windings,
the moon blotted out completely now by the cloud bank. For half an hour
they had not seen any evidence that other human beings were alive in
the world. But when they went rattling across a small mesa where the
sand was deep, a car with one brilliant spotlight suddenly showed
itself around a turn just ahead of them.

Casey slowed down automatically and gave a twist to the steering wheel.
But the sand just here was deep and loose, and the front wheels of the
Ford gouged unavailingly at the sides of the ruts. Casey honked the
horn warningly and stopped full, swearing a good, Caseyish oath. The
other car, having made no apparent effort to turn out, also stopped
within a few feet of Casey, the spotlight fairly blinding him.

The young man beside Casey slid up straight in the seat and stopped
whistling. He leaned out of the car and stared ahead without the dusty
interference of the windshield.

"You can back up a few lengths and make the turn-out all right," he
suggested.

"If I can back up, so can he. He's got as much road behind him as what
I'VE got," Casey retorted stubbornly. "He never made a try at turnin'
out. I was watchin'. Any time I can't lick a road hawg, he's got a
license to lick me. Make yourself comf'table, young feller--we're
liable to set here a spell." Casey grinned. "I spent four hours on a
hill once, out-settin, a road hawg that wanted me to back up."

The man in the other car climbed out and came toward them, walking
outside the beams cast by his own glaring spotlight. He bulked rather
large in the shadows; but Casey Ryan, blinking at him through the
windshield, was still ready and willing to fight if necessary. Or, if
stubbornness were to be the test, Casey could grin and feel secure. A
little man, he reflected, can sit just as long as a big man.

The big man walked leisurely up to the car and smiled as he lifted a
foot to the running board. He leaned forward, his eyes going past
Casey to the other man.

"I kinda thought it was you, Kenner," he drawled. "How much liquor you
got aboard to-night?"

Casey, slanting a glance downward, glimpsed the barrel of a big
automatic looking toward them.

"What if I ain't got any?" the young man parried glumly. "Yo