lanket and not much ceremony. Casey did not know the Piute customs well
enough to follow them, and his version of the white man's funeral service
was simple in the extreme. Hahnaga, however, brought two bottles of
pickles and one jar of preserves which had outlasted Injun Jim's appetite,
and put them in the grave with him, together with his knife and an old
rifle and his pipe.

To dig a grave and afterwards heap the dirt symmetrically over a discarded
body takes a little time, no matter how cursory is the proceeding. Casey
ceased to hear Lucy Lily's raucous voice and so thought that she had
settled down. He misjudged the red princess. He discovered that when he
went back to where William had stood.

He no longer stood there. He was gone, pack and all, and once more Casey
stood equipped for desert journeying with shirt, overalls, shoes and
socks, and his old Stetson, and with half a plug of tobacco, a pipe and a
few matches in his pocket. On the bush where William had been tied a piece
of paper was impaled and fluttered in the wind. Casey jerked it off and
read the even, carefully formed script,--and swore.

"_Dear Sir:_ I am going to Tonopah. If you try to come I will tell the
sherf to coming and see Jim and put you in jail. I will tell the judge you
killed him and the sherf will put you in jail and hung you. Those are fine
shirts. I will wear them silk. As ever your friend,
Yours truly,
LUCY LILY."

Casey sat down on a rock to think it over. The squaw was moving about
within the hut, collecting the pitifully few belongings which Lucy Lily
had disdained to steal. An Indian does not like to stay where one has
died.

Casey could overtake Lucy Lily, if he walked fast and did not stop when
dark fell, but he did not want to overtake her. He was not alarmed at her
threat of the sheriff, but he did not want to see her again or hear her or
think of her.

So Casey tore up the note and went and begged a little food from Hahnaga;
then he broached the subject of the gold mine. The squaw listened, looking
at him with dull black eyes and a face like a stamped-leather portrait of
an Indian. She shook her head and pointed down the gulch.

"No find gol', bad girl. I think killum my mans. I dunno. No fin' gol'--
Jim he no tellum. No tellum me, no tellum Lucy, no tellum nobody. I think,
all time Jim hide." She made a gesture as of one covering something with
dirt. "Lucy all time try for fin' gol'. Jim he no likeum. Lucy my s