Casey made the detour because he had heard a good deal about the place and knew it as a favorite stamping ground of miners and prospectors who sought free gold.

Searchlight is primarily a gold camp, you see.

He wanted to hear a little more about Injun Jim.
But there had been a murder in Searchlight a dark night or so before his coming, and three suspects were being discussed and championed by their friends.

Searchlight was not in the mood for aimless gossip of Indians.
Killings had been monotonously frequent, but they usually had daylight and an audience to rob them of mystery.

A murder done on a dark night, in the black shadow of an empty dance hall, and accompanied by a piercing scream and the sound of running feet was vastly different.
Casey lingered half a day, bought a few more pounds of bacon and some matches and ten yards of satin ribbon in assorted colors and went his way.
I mention his stop at Searchlight so that those who demand exact geography will understand why Casey journeyed on to Vegas, tramped its hot sidewalks for half a day and then went on by way of Indian Spring to the Tippipah country and his destination.