it up off'n him!" a new voice commanded harshly, and Casey obeyed.
His captor shifted the gun muzzle to the back of Casey's neck and poked
the gasping, bearded old man with his toe.

"Git up, Paw, you old fool, you! What'd you let 'im light on yuh fer?
Why couldn't you a stood back a piece, outa reach? You like to got
croaked."

Casey found it prudent to hold his head rather still, as a man does
when he carries a boil on his neck. The muzzle of a six-shooter has a
quieting effect, when applied to the person by an unfriendly hand.
Casey did not at once see the intruder. But presently "Paw" recovered
himself and his shotgun, and swung it menacingly toward Casey.
Whereupon the cold circle left Casey's medulla oblongata and a
long-faced, long-legged youth stepped somewhat hastily to one side.

"Paw, you ol' fool, you, get your finger off'n that trigger whilst
you're aimin' at me!" he exclaimed pettishly.

"I wa'n't aimin' at you. I was aimin' at this 'ere--" Casey heard
himself called many names, any one of which was good for a fight when
Casey was free.

"Aw, you shut up, Paw. You ain't gittin' nobody nowhere," the son
interrupted. "You can't cuss 'im t' death--he looks like he could cut
loose a few of them pet names hisself if he got a chancet. Yuh might
tell us what you was doin' up that there tree, mister. An' what you're
doin' on this here butte, anyhow."

Casey looked at him. Knowing Casey, I should say that his eyes were
not pleasant. "Talk to Paw," he advised contemptuously. "The two of
yuh may possibly be able to stand each other without gittin' sick; but
me, I never did git used to skunks!"

That remark very nearly got him a through ticket to Land Beyond. But,
being very nearly what Casey had called them, they contented themselves
with mouthing vile epithets.

"Better take 'im down to the mine an' keep 'im till Mart gets back,
Paw," the long-jawed youth suggested, when he ran short of
objurgations. "Mart'll fix 'im when he comes."

"I'd fix 'im, here an', now," threatened Paw, "but Mart, he's so damned
techy lately--what we oughta do is bust 'is head with a rock an' pitch
'im over the rim. That'd fix 'im."

They wrangled over the suggestion, and finally decided to take him down
and turn him over to one whom they called Joe. Casey went along
peaceably, hopeful that he would later have a chance to fight back. He
told himself that they both had heads like peanuts, and whenever they
moved, he s