's cage, sneaked
on his toes to the bunk and slipped the handcuffs on Casey.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Casey awoke almost sober and considerably surprised when he discovered
the handcuffs. His injured hand was throbbing from the poison in his
system and the steel band on his swollen wrist. His head still ached
frightfully and his tongue felt thick and dry as flannel in his mouth.

He rolled over and sat up, staring uncomprehendingly at the cabin full
of men. The sight of Barney Oakes recalled in a measure his
performance with the dynamite; at least, he felt a keen disappointment
that Barney was alive and whole and grinning. Casey could not see what
there was to grin about, and he took it as a direct insult to himself.

Mart and Joe sat sullenly on a bench against the wall, and Paw reclined
in his bunk at the farther end of the room. A blood-stained bandage
wrapped Paw's head turbanwise, and his little, deep-set eyes gleamed
wickedly in his pallid face. Casey looked for Hank, but he was not
there.

A strange man was cooking supper, and Casey wanted to tell him that he
was slicing the bacon twice as thick as it should be. The corpulent
man, whom he dimly remembered as a coroner, was talking with a big,
burly individual whom Casey guessed was the sheriff. A man came in and
announced to the big man that the car was fixed and they could go any
time. Mart, who had been staring morosely down at his shackled wrists,
lifted his head and spoke to the sheriff.

"You'll have to do something about my mother," he said, and bit his lip
at the manner in which every head swung his way.

"What about your mother?" the sheriff asked moving toward him. "Is she
here?" His eyes sent a quick glance around the room which obviously
had four outside walls.

Mart swallowed. "She has a cabin to herself," he explained
constrainedly. "She--she isn't quite right. Strangers excite her.
She--hasn't been well since my father was killed in the mine; she's
quiet enough with us--she knows us. I don't know how she'll be now.
I'm afraid--but she can't be left here alone; all I ask is, be as
gentle as you can."

The sheriff looked from him to Joe. Joe nodded confirmation. "Plumb
harmless," he said gruffly. "It IS kinda--pitiful. Thinks everybody in
the world is damned and going to hell on a long lope." He gave a snort
that resembled neither mirth nor disgust. "Mebbe she's right at that,"
he added grimly.

The sheriff asked more questions,