Casey knew well the law, and he busied
himself in setting the camp in order while he waited.

But when five days and nights had slipped into history and he and William
were still in sole possession, Casey began to take another viewpoint. Fred
might possibly have left in a flying machine. The partner might have
decamped permanently before Fred lost his nerve. Several things might have
happened which would leave this particular camp and contents without a
claimant. Casey studied the matter for awhile and then pulled the four
suitcases from beneath the cots and proceeded to investigate. The first
one that he opened had a note folded and addressed to Fred. Casey read it
through without the slightest compunction. The handwriting was different
from that of the first note, hurried and scrawly, the words connected with
faint lines. Here is what Fred's partner had written:

"Dear Fred: Don't blame me for leaving you. A man that carries the
grouch you do don't need company. I'm fed up on solitude, and I don't like
the feel of things here. My staying won't help your lung a damn bit and if
you want anything you can hunt up the men that carry the light. Maybe they
are the ones that are killing off the horses. Any way, you can wash your
own dishes from now on. It will do you good. If I had of known you were
the crab you are I'll say I would never have come. You are welcome to my
share of the outfit. I hope some one shoots me and puts me out of my
misery quick if I ever show symptoms of wanting to camp out again. I am
going now because if I stayed I'd change your map for you so your own
looking glass wouldn't know you. I'll say you are some nut.
Art."

Casey had to take a fresh chew of tobacco before his brain would settle
down and he could think clearly. Then he observed that it was a damn funny
combination and you could ask anybody. After that he began to realize that
he was heir to a fine assortment of canned delicacies and an oil stove and
four suitcases filled, he hoped, with good clothes. Not omitting
possession of two spring cots and several pairs of high-grade blankets,
and two sweaters and Lord knows what all.

Those suitcases were enough to make any man sit and bite his nails,
wondering if he were crazy. Fred and Art had evidently fitted their
wardrobe to their ideas of a summer camp with dancing pavilion and plenty
of hammocks in the immediate neighborhood. There were white flannel
trousers and white canvas shoes an