chips pushed to the center to back
the bluff. The stranger had called him, with three queens and a pair
of jacks. Casey felt like that now.

He had laughed over his loss then, and he grinned now and reached
carelessly to the bank beside him as if he fully expected to lay his
hand on the specimen of gold-bearing rock. He went so far as to utter
a surprised oath when he failed to find it. He felt in his pockets.
He went forward and scanned the top of the ledge almost convincingly.
He turned and stood a-straddle, his hands on his hips, and gazed on the
pile of dirt he had thrown out of the hole. Last, he pushed his hat
back so that with the next movement he could push it forward again over
his eyebrow.

"Now if that there lump uh high-grade ain't went an' slid down the bank
an' got covered up with the muck!" he exclaimed disgustedly. "I'm a son
of a gun if Fate ain't playin' agin' Casey Ryan with a flock uh aces
under its vest!"

Mack Nolan laughed, and Casey slanted a look his way. "Thought I left
you takin, a nap," he said brazenly. "What's the matter? Didn't your
breakfast set good?"

Mack Nolan laughed again. It was evident that he found Casey Ryan very
amusing.

"The breakfast was fine," he replied easily. "A couple of lizards got
to playing tag over me. That woke me up, and the sun was so hot I just
thought I'd come down and crawl into the car and go to sleep there. Go
ahead with your prospecting, Casey--I won't bother you."

Casey went on with his digging, but his heart was not in it. With every
laggard shovelful of dirt, he glanced over his shoulder apprehensively,
watching Mack Nolan crawl into the back of the car and settle himself,
with an audible sigh of satisfaction, on top of the load. He had one
wild, wicked impulse to lengthen the hole and make it serve as a grave
for more than bootleg whisky; but it was an impulse born of
desperation, and it died almost before it had lived.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Casey left his digging and returned to the Ford, still determined to
carry on the bluff and pretend that much tinkering was necessary before
he could travel further. With a great show of industry he rummaged for
pliers and wrenches, removed the hood from the motor and squinted down
at the little engine.

By that time Mack Nolan was snoring softly in deep slumber. Casey
listened suspiciously, knowing too well how misleading a snore could
be. But his own eyelids were growing exceeding heavy