kettles, and grinned cheerfully at Paw while he dried a tin
plate. Paw eyed him dubiously over a stinking pipe, spat
reflectively into the woodbox and crossed his legs the other way,
loosely swinging an ill-shod foot.

"Y'ain't told us yet what brung yuh up on the butte," Paw
observed suddenly. "Yuh wa'n't lost--yuh ain't got the mark uh
no tenderfoot. What was yuh doin' up in that tree?"

"Mebbe I mighta been huntin' mountain sheep," Casey retorted
calmly.

"Huntin' mountain sheep up a tree is a new one," tittered Hank.
"Wish you'd give me a swaller uh that brand. Must have a kick
like a brindle mule."

"More likely 'White Mule.'" Casey cocked a knowing eye at Hank.
"You're too late, young feller. I chewed the cork day before
yesterday," he declared.

While he fished another plate out of the pan, Casey observed that
Paw looked at Joe inquiringly, and that Joe moved his head
sidewise a careful inch, and back again.

"Moonshine, huh?" Paw hazarded hopefully. "Yuh peddlin' it, er
makin' it?"

Casey grinned secretively. "A man can't be pinched without the
goods," he observed shrewdly. "I was raised in a country where
they took fools out an' brained 'em with an axe. You fellers