ance to
man or beast. Casey finally gave up the hopeless search and headed
straight for the light.

It was standing still,--a car facing him with its headlights burning, the
distance so great that the two lights glowed as one. "An' it ain't no
Ford," Casey decided. "They wouldn't keep the engine runnin' all this
time, standin' still. Unless it's one of them old kind with lamps."

I don't suppose you realize, many of you, just what that would mean to a
man in the desert country. It is rather hard to define, but the
significance would be felt, even by Casey in his present plight. You see,
small cars, of the make too famous to be hurt or helped by having its name
mentioned in a simple yarn like this, have long been recognized as the
proper car for rough trails and no trails. Those who travel the desert
most have come to the point of counting "Lizzie" almost as necessary as
beans. Wherefore a larger car is nearly always brought in by strangers to
the country, who swear solemnly, never to repeat the imprudence. A large
car, driven by strangers in the land, means hunters, prospectors from the
outside brought in by some special tale of hidden wealth,--or just plain
simpletons who only want to see what lies over the mountain. There aren't
many of the last-named variety up in the Nevada wastes. Even your
nature-loving rovers oddly keep pretty much to the beaten trails of other
nature lovers, where gas stations and new tires may be found at regular
intervals. The Painted Desert, the Petrified Forest, the National Old
Trails they explore,--but not the high, wind-swept mesas of Nevada's
barren land.

A fear that was not altogether strange to him crept over Casey. It would
be just his grinning enemy Ill-luck on his trail again, if that light
should prove to be made by men hunting for Injun Jim and his mine. Casey
used to feel a sickness in his middle when that thought nagged him, and he
felt a growing anger now when he looked at the twinkling glow. He walked a
little faster. Now that the fear had come to him, Casey wanted to come up
with the men, talk with them, learn their business if they were truthful,
or sense their lying if they tried to hide their purpose from him. He must
know. If they were seeking Injun Jim, then he must find some way to head
them off, circumvent their plans with strategy of his own. He had dreamed
too long and too ardently to submit now to interlopers.

So he walked, limping and cursing a little now and