ng for it, I'm afraid. We'll have to become
real moonshiners ourselves for awhile."

Casey ate with less appetite after that. Making moonshine did not
appeal to him at all. Given his choice, I think he would even prefer
drinking it, unhappy as the effect had been on him.

"We'll need a still, and we'll need the stuff. I'm going to leave you
in charge of the camp, Ryan, while I make a trip to Needles. I'll
deputize you to assist me in cleaning up this district. And this
district, Ryan, touches salt water. So if revenge looks good to you,
you'll have a fine chance to get even with the bootleggers. And in the
meantime, just kill time around camp here while I'm gone. If any one
shows up, you're prospecting."

That day, doubt-devils took hold of Casey Ryan and plucked at his
belief. How did he know that Mack Nolan wasn't another bootlegger,
wanting to rope Casey in on a job for some fell purpose of his own? He
had Mack Nolan's word and nothing more. For that matter, he had also
had young Kenner's word. Kenner had fooled him completely. Mack Nolan
could also fool him--perhaps.

"Well, anyhow, he never claimed to know Bill Masters, and that's a
point in 'is favor. And if it's some dirty work he's up to, he coulda
made it shorter than what he's doin'. An' if he's double-crossin'
Casey Ryan--well, anyway, Casey Ryan 'll be present at the time an'
place when he does it!"

Upon that comforting thought, Casey decided to trust Mack Nolan until
he caught him playing crooked; and proceeded to kill time as best he
could.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was noon the next day when Nolan returned, and he did not explain
why he was eighteen hours overdue. Casey eyed him expectantly, but
Nolan's manner was brisk and preoccupied.

"Help me unload this stuff, Ryan," he said, "and put it out of sight in
the cellar. We won't have to go through the process of making
moonshine, after all."

Casey looked into the car, pulling aside the tarp. Four kegs he
counted, and lifted out one.

"An' how many did YOU lick, Mr. Nolan?" he grinned over his shoulder as
he started for the door.

Nolan laughed noncommittally.

"Perhaps I'm luckier at picking my bootleggers," he retorted. "If you
carry the right brand of bluff, you can keep the skin on your knuckles,
Ryan. This beats making it, at any rate."

That afternoon and the next day, Casey Ryan did what he never dreamed
was possible. With Mack Nolan to show him how, Casey perfo