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 out--easiest 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