heard himself called many names, any one of which was good for a
fight when Casey was free.

"Aw, you shut up, Paw. You ain't gittin' nobody nowhere," the
son interrupted. "You can't cuss 'im t' death--he looks like he
could cut loose a few of them pet names hisself if he got a
chancet. Yuh might tell us what you was doin' up that there tree,
mister. An' what you're doin' on this here butte, anyhow."

Casey looked at him. Knowing Casey, I should say that his eyes
were not pleasant. "Talk to Paw," he advised contemptuously.
"The two of yuh may possibly be able to stand each other without
gittin' sick; but me, I never did git used to skunks!"

That remark very nearly got him a through ticket to Land Beyond.
But, being very nearly what Casey had called them, they contented
themselves with mouthing vile epithets.

"Better take 'im down to the mine an' keep 'im till Mart gets
back, Paw," the long-jawed youth suggested, when he ran short of
objurgations. "Mart'll fix 'im when he comes."

"I'd fix 'im, here an', now," threatened Paw, "but Mart, he's so
damned techy lately--what we oughta do is bust 'is head with a
rock an, pitch 'im over the rim. That'd fix 'im."

They wrangled over the suggestion, and finally decided to take
him down and turn him over to one whom they called Joe. Casey
went along peaceably, hopeful that he would later have a chance
to fight back. He told himself that they both had heads like