Casey's squat, powerful form stood perfectly still where I had left him, his face turned toward the mountain.

There was no fire on the slope.

Beyond, hanging black in the sky, a thunder cloud pillowed up toward the peak of the mountain, pushing out now and then to blot a star from the purple.

Now and then a white, ragged gash cut through, but no sound reached up to where we were camped on the high mesa that was the lap of Starvation Mountain.

I will explain that Casey had come back to Starvation to see if there were not another good silver claim lying loose and needing a location monument.