ed in.

Casey was up and into his clothes by the time Smiling Lou had uncovered
a box or two. Smiling Lou turned toward him, his lips twitching.

"Lift this stuff out of here and put it in my car," he commanded,
elation creeping into his voice in spite of himself. "My Lord! The
chances you fellows take! Think a dab of paint is going to cover up a
brand burnt into the wood?"

Casey looked startled, glancing down into the car to where Smiling Lou
pointed.

"The boards is turned over on all the rest," he muttered
confidentially. "I dunno how that darned Canadian Club sign got right
side up."

"What all have you got?" Smiling Lou lowered his voice when he asked
the question. Casey tried not to grin when he replied. Smiling Lou
gasped,

"Well, get it into my car, and make it snappy."

Casey made it as snappy as he could, and kept his face straight until
Smiling Lou spoke to him sharply.

"I won't take you in to-night with me. I want that car. You drive it
into headquarters first thing in the morning. And don't think you can
beat it, either. I'll have the road posted. You can knock a good deal
off your sentence if you crank up and come in right after breakfast.
And make it an early breakfast, too."

His manner was stern, his voice perfectly official. But Casey, eyeing
him grimly, saw distinctly the left eyelid lower and lift again.

"All right--I'm the goat," he surrendered and sat down again on his
canvas-covered bed. He did not immediately crawl between the blankets,
however, because interesting things were happening over at Jim
Cassidy's car.

Casey watched Jim Cassidy go picking his way amongst the tree roots and
camp litter, his back straightened under the load of hootch he was
carrying to Smiling Lou's car. With Jim Cassidy also, Smiling Lou was
crisply official. When the last of the hootch had been transferred,
Casey heard Smiling Lou tell Jim Cassidy to drive in to headquarters
after breakfast next morning--but he did not see Smiling Lou wink when
he said it.

After that, Smiling Lou started his motor and drove slowly up through
the grove, halting to scan each car as he passed. He swung out through
the upper driveway, turned sharply there and came back down the highway
speeding up on the downhill grade to San Bernardino.

Jim Cassidy came furtively over and settle down for a whispered
conference on Casey's bed.

"How much did he get off'n YOU?" he asked inquisitively. "Did he clean