Mack Nolan had just crawled into his bunk on Wednesday night when he thought he heard a car laboring up the gulch.-He sat up in bed to listen and then got hurriedly into his clothes.-He was standing just around the corner of the dugout where the headlights could not reach him, when Casey killed the engine and stopped before the door. Steam was rising in a small cloud from the radiator cap, and the sound of boiling water was distinctly audible some distance away.
Mack Nolan waited until Casey had climbed out from behind the wheel and headed for the door.-Then he stepped out and hailed him.-Casey started perceptibly, whirling as if to face an enemy.
When he saw that it was Nolan he apparently lost his desire to enter the cabin. Instead he came close to Nolan and spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"We better run 'er under the shed, Mr. Nolan, and drain the darned radiator.-I dunno am I follered or not, but I was awhile back. But the man that catches Casey Ryan when he's on the trail an' travelin, has yet t' be born.-An' you can ask anybody if that ain't so."
Mack Nolan's eyes narrowed.-"And who followed you then?" he asked quietly. "Did you bring any hootch?"
"Did yuh send Casey Ryan after hootch, or was it mebby spuds er somethin'?"-Casey retorted with heavy dignity.-"Will yuh pack it in, Mr. Nolan, whilst I back the car in the shed, or shall I bring it when I come?-It ain't so much," he added drily,-"but it cost the trouble of a trainload."
"I'll take it in," said Nolan.-"If any one does come we want no evidence in reach."
Casey turned to the car, clawed at his camp outfit and lifted out a demijohn which he grimly handed to Nolan.-"Fer many a mile it rode on the seat with me so I could drink 'er down if they got me cornered," he grinned.-"One good swaller is about the size of it, Mr. Nolan."
Nolan grinned in sympathy and turned into the cabin, bearing the three-gallon, wicker-covered glass bottle in his arms.-Presently he returned to the doorway and stood there listening down the gulch until Casey came up, walking from the shed.
"'Tis a good thing yuh left this other car standin' here cold an' peaceful, Mr. Nolan," Casey, observed, after he also had stood for a minute listening.-"If they're follerin' they'll be here darn' soon. If they ain't I've ditched 'em.-Let's git t' bed an'
I'll tell yuh my tale uh woe."
Without a word Nolan led the way into the cabin.-In the dark they undressed and got into the bed which was luckily wide enough for two.
"Had your supper?"-Nolan asked belatedly when they were settled.
"I did not," Casey grunted.-"I will say, Mr. Nolan, there's few times in my life when you'd see Casey Ryan missin' 'is supper whilst layin' tracks away from a fight.-But if it was light enough you could gaze upon 'im now.-And I must hand it t' the Gallopin' Gussie yuh give me the loan of fer the trip.-She brung me home ahead of the sheriff--and you can ask anybody if Casey Ryan himself can't be proud uh that!"
"The sheriff?" Nolan's voice was puzzled.-He seemed to be considering something for a minute, before he spoke again.-"You could have explained to the sheriff, couldn't you, your reason for having booze in the car?"
Casey raised to one elbow.-"When yuh told Casey Ryan 'twas not many men you'd trust, and that you trusted me an' the business was t' be secret--Mr. Nolan, you 'was talkin' t' CASEY RYAN!" He lay down again as if that precluded further argument.
"Good! I thought I hadn't made a mistake in my man," Nolan approved, in a tone that gave Casey an inner glow of pride in himself.-"Let's have the story, old man.-Did you see Bill Masters?"
"Bill Masters," said Casey grimly, "was not in Lund.-His garage is sold an, Bill's in Denver--which is a long drive for a Ford t' git there an, back before Friday midnight.-Yuh put a time limit me, Mr. Nolan, an' nobody had Bill's address.-I didn't foller Bill t' Denver.-I asked some others in Lund if they knowed a man named Kenner, and they did not.-So then I went huntin' booze that I could git without the hull of Nevada knowin' it in fifteen minutes.-An' Casey's got this t' say: When yuh WANT hootch. it's hard t' find as free gold in granite.-When yuh DON'T want it, it's forced on yuh at the point of a gun.-This jug I stole--seein' your business is private, Mr. Nolan.
"I grabbed it off some fellers I knowed in Lund an' never had no use for, anyway.-They're mean enough when they're sober, an' when they're jagged they're not t' be mentioned on a Sunday.-I mighta paid 'em for it, but money's no good t' them fellers an' there's no call t' waste it.-So they made a holler and I sets the jug down an' licks them both, an' comes along home mindin' my own business.
"So I guess they 'phoned the sheriff in Vegas that here comes a bootlegger and land 'im quick.-Anyway, I was goin' t' stop there an' take on a beefsteak an' a few cups uh coffee, but I never done it.-I was slowin' down in front uh Sam's Place when a friend uh mine gives me the high sign t' put 'er in high an' keep 'er goin'. Which I done.
"Down by Ladd's, Casey looks back an' here comes the sheriff's car hell bent fer 'lection (anyway it looked like the sheriff's car). An' I wanta say right here, Mr. Nolan, that's a darn' good Ford yuh got!-I was follered, and 'I was follered hard.-But I'm here an' they' ain't--an' you can ask anybody if that didn't take some going'!"
In the darkness of the cabin Casey turned over and heaved a great sigh.-On the heels of that came a chuckle.
"I got t' hand it t' the L. A. traffic cops, Mr. Nolan.-They shore learned me a lot about dodgin'.-So now yuh got the hull story. If it was the sheriff behind me an' if he trails me here, they got no evidence an' you can mebby square it with 'im.-You'd know what t' tell 'im--which is more'n what Casey Ryan can say."