uare-toed shoes studded
thickly on the soles with hobnails worn shiny; driving a desert-scarred
Ford with most of the paint gone and a front fender cocked up and flapping
crazily, and tires worn down to the fabric in places. But his eyes were
very keen and steady, and there was a humorous twist to his mouth. If he
dreamed incongruously of big, luxurious cars gorgeous in paint and nickel
trim, and of slim young women with yellow hair and blue eyes,--well,
stranger dreams have been hidden away behind exteriors more unsightly than
was the shell which holds the soul of Casey Ryan.

Presently the practical, everyday side of his nature nudged him into
taking note of his immediate surroundings. Red Lake had received a
wetting. The dark, shiny surface betrayed that fact, and it was surprising
how real water, when you did see it on a lake subject to mirage, was so
unmistakably real. It is like putting flakes of real gold beside flakes of
mica; you are ready to swear that the mica is gold--until you see the real
gold beside it. So Casey knew at a glance that half of Red Lake was wet,
and that the shiny patches here and there were not mirage pictures but
shallow pools of water. Moreover, out in the reddest, wettest part of it
an automobile stood with its back to him, and pigmy figures were moving
slowly upon either side.

CHAPTER VI

"Stuck," diagnosed Casey in one word, as he caught sight of the group
ahead. He tucked his dream into the back of his mind while he pulled down
the gas lever a couple of notches and lunged along the muddy ruts that
led straight away from the safe line of sagebrush and out upon the
platter-like red expanse.

The Ford grunted and lugged down to a steady pull, but Casey drove as he
had driven his six horses on a steep grade in the old days, coaxing every
ounce of power into action. He juggled with spark and gas and somehow kept
her going, and finally stopped with nice judgment on a small island of
harder clay within shouting distance of the car ahead. He killed the
engine then and stepped down, and went picking his way carefully out to
it, his heavy shoes speedily collecting great pancakes of mud that clung
like glue.

"Stuck, hey? You oughta kept in the ruts, no matter if they are
water-logged. You never want to turn outa the road on one of these lake
beds, huntin' dry ground. If it's wet in the road, you can bank on sinkin'
in to the hocks the minute you turn out." He carefully removed the