Nolan, but what you know as much about Fords as I do. More, mebby.
But Casey Ryan's got 'is little ways, an' he can't seem to ditch 'em.
We'll eat; an' then mebby we'll look 'er over together.

"At the same time," he went on with rising courage, "I'm liable to
stick around here for awhile an' prospect a little. If you wanta find
them mules an' outfit, don't bank too strong on Casey Ryan. He's liable
to change 'is mind any old time. Day or night, you can't tell what
Casey might take a notion to do. That there's a fact. You can ask
anybody if it ain't."

Mack Nolan laughed and slapped Casey unexpectedly on the shoulder.
"You're a man after my own heart, Casey Ryan," he declared
enigmatically. "I'll stick to you and take a chance. Darn the mules!
Somebody will find them and look after them until I show up."

Casey's spirits, as he admitted to himself, were rising and falling
like the hammer of a pile driver; and like the pile driver, the hammer
was driving him deeper and deeper into hopelessness. He would have
given an ear to know for certain whether Mack Nolan were as innocent
and friendly as he seemed. Until he did know, Casey could see nothing
before him but to wait his chance to give Nolan the slip.

Sitting cross-legged in the glow of the campfire after supper, with a
huge pattern of stars drawn over the purple night sky, Casey pulled out
the old pipe with which he had solaced many an evening and stuffed it
thoughtfully with tobacco. Across the campfire, Mack Nolan sat with
his hat tilted down over his eyes, smoking a cigarette and seeming at
peace with all the world.

Casey hoped that Nolan would forget about fixing the Ford. He hoped
that Nolan would sleep well to-night. Casey was perfectly willing to
sacrifice a good roll of bedding and the cooking outfit for the
privilege of traveling alone. No man, he told himself savagely, could
ask a better deal than he was prepared to give Nolan. He bent to reach
a burning twig for his pipe, and found Nolan watching him steadily from
under his hat brim.

"What sort of looking fellows were those, Ryan, that left a load of
booze on your hands?" Nolan asked casually when he saw that he was
observed.

Casey burned his fingers with the blazing twig. "Who said anything
about any fellers leavin' me booze?" he evaded sharply. "If it's a
drink you're hintin' for, you won't get it. Casey Ryan ain't no booze
peddler, an' now's as good a time as any to let that soak