by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Casey left his digging and returned to the Ford, still determined tocarry on the bluff and pretend that much tinkering was necessary beforehe could travel further. With a great show of industry he rummaged forpliers and wrenches, removed the hood from the motor and squinted downat the little engine.
By that time Mack Nolan was snoring softly in deep slumber. Caseylistened suspiciously, knowing too well how misleading a snore couldbe. But his own eyelids were growing exceeding heavy, and thesoporific sound acted hypnotically upon his sleep-hungry brain. Hecaught himself yawning, and suddenly threw down the wrench.
"Aw, hell!" he muttered disgustedly, and went and crawled under theback of the car where it was shady.
The sun was nearly down when Casey awoke and crawled out. Mack Nolanwas still curled comfortably in the car, his back against the bed roll.He opened his eyes and yawned when Casey leaned and looked in upon him.
"By Jove, that was a fine sleep I had," he announced cheerfully,lifting himself up and dangling his legs outside the car. "Strikeanything yet?"
"Naw." Casey's grunt was eloquent of the mood he was in.
"Get the car fixed all right?" Mack Nolan's cheerfulness seemednothing less than diabolical to Casey.
"Naw." Then Casey added grimly, "I'm stuck. I dunno what ails thedamned thing. Have to send to Vegas fer new parts, I guess. It's onlythree miles out here to the road. Mebby you better hike over to thehighway an' ketch a ride with somebody. I might send in for a timeran' some things, too. No use waitin' fer me, Nolan--can't tell howlong I'll be held up here."
Mack Nolan climbed out of the car. Casey's spirits rose instantly.Nolan came forward and looked down at the engine as casually as hewould glance at a nickel alarm clock.
"She was hitting all right when you backed down here," Nolan remarkedeasily. "I'll just take a look at her myself. Fords are crankysometimes. But I've assembled too many of them in the factory to letone get the best of me in the desert."
Casey could almost hear his heart when it slumped down into his boots.But he wasn't licked yet.
"Aw, let the darned thing alone till we eat," he said, pushing his hatforward to hurry his wits.
"Well--I can throw a Ford together in the dark, if necessary," smiledMack Nolan. "Eat, it is, if you want it that way. That breakfast I putaway seems to have sharpened my appetite for supper. Tell you what,Ryan. I'll do a little trouble-shooting here while you cook supper.How'll that be?"
That wouldn't be, if Casey could prevent it. His pale, narrow-liddedeyes dwelt upon Nolan unwinkingly.
"Well, mebby I'm kind of a crank about my car," he hedged, with apraiseworthy calmness. "Fords is like horses, to me. I drove stage allm' life till I took to prospectin'--an' I never could stand around andlet anybody else monkey with my teams. I ain't a doubt in the world,Mr. 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 tostick around here for awhile an' prospect a little. If you wanta findthem mules an' outfit, don't bank too strong on Casey Ryan. He's liableto change 'is mind any old time. Day or night, you can't tell whatCasey might take a notion to do. That there's a fact. You can askanybody 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 declaredenigmatically. "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 fallinglike the hammer of a pile driver; and like the pile driver, the hammerwas driving him deeper and deeper into hopelessness. He would havegiven an ear to know for certain whether Mack Nolan were as innocentand friendly as he seemed. Until he did know, Casey could see nothingbefore him but to wait his chance to give Nolan the slip.
Sitting cross-legged in the glow of the campfire after supper, with ahuge pattern of stars drawn over the purple night sky, Casey pulled outthe old pipe with which he had solaced many an evening and stuffed itthoughtfully with tobacco. Across the campfire, Mack Nolan sat withhis hat tilted down over his eyes, smoking a cigarette and seeming atpeace with all the world.
Casey hoped that Nolan would forget about fixing the Ford. He hopedthat Nolan would sleep well to-night. Casey was perfectly willing tosacrifice a good roll of bedding and the cooking outfit for theprivilege of traveling alone. No man, he told himself savagely, couldask a better deal than he was prepared to give Nolan. He bent to reacha burning twig for his pipe, and found Nolan watching him steadily fromunder his hat brim.
"What sort of looking fellows were those, Ryan, that left a load ofbooze on your hands?" Nolan asked casually when he saw that he wasobserved.
Casey burned his fingers with the blazing twig. "Who said anythingabout any fellers leavin' me booze?" he evaded sharply. "If it's adrink you're hintin' for, you won't get it. Casey Ryan ain't no boozepeddler, an' now's as good a time as any to let that soak into yoursystem."
Mack Nolan's gray eyes were still watching Casey with a steadfastnessthat was disconcerting to a man in Casey's dilemma.
"It might help us both considerably," he said quietly, "if you told meall about it. You can't cache that booze you've got in the car--Iwon't let you, for one thing; for another, that would be merely dodgingthe issue, and if you'll forgive my frankness, dodging doesn't seem tobe quite in your line."
Casey puffed hard on his pipe. "The world's gittin' so darned full uhcrooks, a man can't turn around now'days without bumpin' into a few!"he exploded bitterly. "What kind uh hold-up game YOU playin', Mr.Nolan? If that's your name," he added fiercely.
Mack Nolan laughed to himself and rubbed the ash from his cigaretteagainst the sole of his shoe. "Why," he answered genially, "my game isholding up bootleggers--and crooked cops. Speaking off-hand (which Idon't often do) I should say you have a fine chance to sit in with me.I'm just guessing, now," he added dryly, "but I'm tolerably good atguessing; a man's got to be, these days."
"A man's got to do better than guess--with Casey Ryan," Casey remarkedominously. "The last man that guessed Casey Ryan, guessed 'im plumbwrong."
"Meaning that you'd refuse to help me round up bootleggers and theofficers that protect them?" A steel edge crept into Mack Nolan'svoice. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes boringinto Casey's mind.
"Man, don't stall with me! You've got brains enough to know that if Iwere a crook I'd have held you up long before now. You gave me threesplendid opportunities to stick a gun in your back--and I could havemade others. And," he added with a smile, "if I had thought that youwere a bootlegger or a crook of any other kind, I'd have had you in LasVegas jail by this time. You're no more a crook than I am. You've gotneither the looks nor the actions of a slicker. I may say I know youpretty well--"
Casey thrust out a pugnacious chin. "Say! D' you know Bill Masters,too? That's all I wanta know!"
"Bill Masters? Why, is he the fellow who stepped out from under thisload of hootch? If he is, he must have picked himself a new name; Inever heard it."
Casey glared suspiciously for twenty seconds before he settled backglumly into his mental corner.
"Ryan, I've been all day sizing you up. I'm going to be perfectlyhonest with you and tell you why I think you're straight--although youmust admit the evidence is rather against you.
"I happened to be right close when you drove down in here and stopped.As a matter of fact, I was behind that little clump of junipers. Hadyou driven around them instead of stopping this side, you couldn't havefailed to see me.
"You came down here mad at the trick that had been played you. You wereso mad, you started talking to yourself as a safety valve--blowing offmental steam. You've spent a lot of time in the desert--alone. Menlike that frequently talk aloud their thoughts, just to hear a humanvoi
ce. You made matters pretty plain to me before you knew there wasany one within miles of you. For instance, you're not at all sure thiscar you've got wasn't stolen. You're inclined to think it was. You'rebroke--robbed, I take it, by the men who somehow managed to leave youwith the car and a load of booze on your hands. The trick must havebeen turned this morning; down at the railroad, I imagine--because youhadn't taken time to stop and size up the predicament you were in untilyou got here.
"Your main idea was to get off somewhere out of sight. You werescared. You didn't hear me behind you until I spoke--which provesyou're a green hand at dodging. And that, Ryan, is a very goodrecommendation to a man in my line of work. But you're shrewd, andyou're game--dead game. You're a peach at thinking up schemes to getyourself out of a hole. Of course, being new at it, you don't thinkquite far enough. For instance, because you found me afoot it neveroccurred to you that I might know something about a car; but the restof your plan was a dandy.
"Your idea of backing down there around the turn and burying the boozewas all right. With almost any other man it would have worked. Onceyou got that hootch off your mind, I rather think you'd have been gladto have me along with you, instead of giving me broad hints to leave.But you haven't got the booze buried yet, and you've been figuring allthe evening. You don't see how the devil you're going to manage itwith me around.
"I'll do a little more guessing, now: I guess you've doped it out thatyou'll pack the bedroll up here, tuck me in and pray to the Lord I'llsleep sound. You're hoping you can cache the booze and make yourgetaway while I've gone bye-low. Or possibly, if you got the booze putaway safe from my prying eyes, you might come back to bed and I'd findyou here in the morning just as if nothing had happened. How Is thatfor guesswork?"
"You go tahell!" growled Casey, swallowing a sickly grin. He presseddown the tobacco in his pipe, eyeing Nolan queerly. "If them damn'lizards had uh let yuh alone, I wouldn't have nothin' on m' mind nowbut my hat." He looked across the fire and grinned again.
"Keep on; you'll be tellin' me what the missus an' I was arguin' aboutlast night over long-distance. I've heard tell uh this four-bit mindreading an' forecastin' your horrorscope fer a dime; but I never met upwith it before. If you're aimin' to take up a collection after theshow, you'll fare slim. I've been what a feller called 'dusted off'."He added, after a pause that was eloquent, "They done it thorough!"
Mack Nolan laughed. "They usually are thorough, when they're 'dustingoff a chump', as I believe they call it."
Casey grunted. "'Chump' is right, mebby. But anyways, you're toolate, Mr. Nolan. I'm cleaned."
Mack Nolan rolled another cigarette, lighted it and flipped the matchinto the campfire. He smoked it down to the last inch, staring intothe fire and saying nothing the while. When the cigarette stubfollowed the match, he leaned back upon one elbow and began tracing ageometrical figure in the sand with a stick.
"Ryan," he said abruptly, "you're square and I know it. The verynature of my business makes me cautious about trusting men--but I'mgoing to trust you." He stopped again, taking great pains with thepoint of a triangle he was drawing.
Casey knocked the ashes out of his pipe against a rock. "Puttin' itthat way, Mr. Nolan, the man's yet to live that Casey Ryan everdouble-crossed. Cops I got no use for; nor yet bootleggers. Whether Igot any use for you, Mr. Nolan, I can say better when I've heard yuhout. A goat I've been for the last time. But I'm willin' to HEAR yuhout--and that there's more'n what I'd uh said this morning."
"And that's fair enough, Ryan. If you jumped into things with youreyes shut, I don't think I'd want you with me."
Casey squirmed, remembering certain times when he had gone too headlonginto things.
"I'm going to ask you, Ryan, to tell me the whole story of this car andits load of whisky. Before you do that, I'll tell you this much toshow good faith and prove to you how much I trust you: I'm an officer,and my special work right now is to clean up a gang of bootleggers andthe crooked officers who are protecting them. What I know about yourcase leads me to believe that you've run afoul of them and that you'rethe man I've been looking for that can help me set a trap for them.Would you like to do that?"
"If it's that bunch you're after, Mr. Nolan, I'd ruther land 'em injail than to find a ledge of solid gold ten feet thick an' a mile long.One thing I'd like to know first. Are yuh or ain't yuh huntin' mules?"
Mack Nolan laughed. "I am, yes. But the mule I'm hunting is white!"
Casey studied that until he had the fresh pipeful of tobacco goingwell. Then he looked up and grinned understandingly.
"So it's White Mule you're trailin'." He kicked a stub of greasewoodbranch back into the flames and laughed. "Well, the tracks is deep an'plenty, and if that's the trail you're takin', I'm with yuh. You ain'ta cop--leastways you don't spread your arms every time you turn around.Gosh, I hate them wing-floppin' kind! They's one thing an' one onlythat I hate worse--an' that's bootleggers an' moonshiners. If you gota scheme to give them cusses their needin's, you can ask anybody ifCasey Ryan ain't the feller you can bank on."
"Yes. That's what I've been thinking. Now, I wish you'd tell meexactly what you've been up against. Don't leave out anything, howevertrivial it might seem to you."
Wherefore, Casey sat with the firelight flickering across his seamed,Irish face and told the story of his wrongs. Trivial details Nolan hadasked for--and he got them with the full Casey Ryan flavor. Even theold woman who rocked, Casey pictured--from his particular angle. MackNolan sat up and listened, his eyes steady and his mouth, that hadcurved to laughter many times during the recital, once more firm andsomewhat pitiless when Casey finished.
"This Smiling Lou; you'd know him again, of course?"
"Know him! Say, I'd know him after he'd fried a week in hell!" Casey'stone left no doubt of his meaning.
"And I suppose you could tell this man Kenner a mile off and around acorner. Now, I'll tell you what I want you to do, Casey. This may jaryou a little--until I explain. I want you--" Mack Nolan paused, hislips twitching in a faint smile--"to do a little bootlegging yourself."
"Yuh--WHAT?" In the firelight Casey's eyes were seen to bulge.
"I want you to bootleg this whisky you've got in the car." Nolan's eyestwinkled. "I want you to go back and peddle this booze, and I want youto do it so that Smiling Lou or one of his bunch will hold you up andhighjack you. Do you see what I mean? You don't--so I'll tell you.We'll put it in marked bottles. I have the bottles and the seals andlabels for every brand of liquor to be had in the country to-day. Withmarked money and marked bottles, we ought to be able to get the goodson that gang."
Casey thought of something quite suddenly and held out an imperative,pointing finger.
"There's something else that feller told me was in the car!" he criedagitatedly. "He said he had forty pints of French champagne cached ina false bottom under the front seat. And he said the front cushion hada blind pocket around the edges that was full uh dope. Hop, he calledit."
Mack Nolan whistled under his breath.
"And he turned the whole outfit over to you for sixteen hundred dollarsor so?" He stared thoughtfully into the fire. Abruptly he looked atCasey.
"What the deuce had you done to him, Ryan?" he asked, with a quizzicalintentness. "He must have been scared stiff, to let go of all thatstuff for sixteen hundred. Why, man, the 'junk'--that's dope--alonemust be worth more than that. And the champagne--forty pints, you say?He ought to get twenty dollars a pint for that. Figure it yourself. Ihope," he added seriously, "the fellow wasn't too scared to show upagain."
"Well," Casey said grimly, "I dunno how scart he is--but he knows darn'well I'll kill 'im. I told im I would."
Again Mack Nolan laughed. "Catching's much better than killing, Ryan.It hurts a man worse, and it lasts a heap longer. What do you say toturning in? To-morrow we'll have a full day at my private bottlingworks."
They moved their cooking outfit down near the Ford for safety's sake
.While it was wholly improbable that the car would be robbed in thenight, Mack Nolan was a man who took as few chances as possible. Ithappened that the excavation Casey had so hopefully made that morningformed a convenient level for their bed; wherefore they spread itthere, talking in low tones of their plans until they went to sleep.