e dead, it became more than ever necessary to locate
the gang and have it out with them. That necessity did not worry Casey
in the least. The only thing that troubled him now was getting up on
the rim without being seen.

It was characteristic of Casey Ryan that, though he moved with caution,
he nevertheless moved toward their unseen enemy. Not for a long, long
while had Casey been cautious in his behavior, and the necessity galled
him. If the hidden marksman had missed that last burro, Casey would
probably have taken a longer chance. But to date, every bullet had gone
straight to its destination; which was enough to make any man think
twice.

Once during the forenoon, while Casey was standing against the rim-rock
staring glumly down upon the camp, Barney's hat, perched on a pick
handle, lifted its crown above the edge of his hiding place; an old,
old trick Barney was playing to see if the rifle were still there and
working. The rifle worked very well indeed, for Barney was presently
flattened into his retreat, swearing and poking his finger through a
round hole in his hat.

Casey seized the opportunity created by the diversion and scurried like
a lizard across a bare, gravelly slide that had been bothering him for
half an hour. By mid-afternoon he reached a crevice that looked
promising enough when he craned up it, but which nearly broke his neck
when he had climbed halfway up. Never before had he been compelled to
measure so exactly his breadth and thickness. It was drawing matters
down rather fine when he was compelled to back down to where he had
elbow room, and remove his coat before he could squeeze his body
through that crack. But he did it, with his six-shooter inside his
shirt and the extra ammunition weighting his trousers pockets.

In spite of his long experience with desert scenery, Casey was somewhat
astonished to find himself in a new land, fairly level and with thick
groves of pinon cedar and juniper trees scattered here and there. Far
away stood other barren hills with deep canyons between. He knew now
that the black-capped butte was less a butte than the uptilted nose of
a high plateau not half so barren as the lower country. From the
pointing Joshua tree it had seemed a peak, but contours are never so
deceptive as in the high, broken barrens of Nevada.

He looked down into the gulch where Barney was holed up with their
outfit. He could scarcely distinguish the place, it had dwindled so