probably be worrying about him, though there was a chance that a
bullet had found Barney before dark. Casey was uneasy, and once
he was down the fissure again, he hurried as much as possible.

He managed to reach the camp by the little spring without being
shot at and without breaking a leg. But Barney was not there.
Just at first Casey believed he was dead; but a brief search told
Casey that two of the largest canteens were gone, together with a
side of bacon, some flour and all of the tobacco. White
assassins would have made a more thorough job of robbing the
camp. Barney, it was evident, had fled the fate of the burros.

Casey told the stars what he thought of a partner like Barney.
Afterward he ate what was easiest to swallow without cooking,
overhauled what was left of their outfit, cached the remainder in
a clump of bushes, and wearily climbed the bluff again under a
capacity load. He concealed himself in the bottom of the fissure
to sleep, since he could search no farther.

If he thought wistfully of the palled comfort of his apartment in
Los Angeles, and of the Little Woman there, he still did not
think strongly enough to send him back to them. For with a
canteen or two of water, some food and his two capable legs to
carry him, Casey Ryan could have made it to Barstow easily
enough. But because he was Casey Ryan, and Irish, and because he
was always on the hunt for trouble without recognizing it when he
met it in the trail, it never occurred to him to follow Barney
down to safer country.

"That there Joshuay tree meant a lot more'n what it let on,