the man with the rifle.

To that end he first of all climbed the tallest pinon tree in
sight; a tree that stood on a rise of ground apart from its
brothers. From the concealment of its branches, he surveyed his
surroundings carefully, noting especially the notched unevenness
of the butte's rim and how just behind him it narrowed
unexpectedly to a thin ridge not more than a couple of hundred
yards in breadth. A jagged outcropping cut straight across and
Casey saw how yesterday he had mistaken that ledge for the rim of
the butte. His man must have been out on the point beyond him
all the while. He was out there now, very likely; there, or down
in the camp he had watched yesterday like a vulture.

His search having narrowed to an area easily covered in an hour
or two, Casey turned his head and examined as well as he could
the deep canyon that had bitten into the butte and caused that
narrow peak. Trees blocked his view there, and he was feeling
about for a lower foothold so that he could make the descent when
a voice from the ground startled him considerably.

"Come down outa there, before I shoot yuh down!"

Casey looked down and saw what he afterwards declared was the
meanest looking man on earth, pointing straight at him the widest
muzzled shotgun he had ever seen in his life.

Casey came down. The last ten feet of the distance he made in a
clean jump, planting his feet full in the old man's stomach. The
meanest looking man on earth gave a grunt and crumpled, with