CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
Dawn was just thinning the curtain of darkness when Nolan woke Casey with a shake of the shoulder.
"I think we'd better be moving from here before the world's astir.

You can back on down this draw, Ryan, and strike an old trail that cuts over the ridge and up the next gulch to an old, deserted mine where I've made headquarters.

It isn't far, and we can have breakfast at my camp." Casey swallowed his astonishment, and for once in his life he did as he was told without argument.
Mack Nolan's camp was fairly accessible by roundabout trail with a few tire tracks to point the way for Casey.

Straight across the ridges, it would not have been more than two miles to Juniper Wells.

Nevertheless not one man in a year would be tempted to come this way, unless it were definitely known that some one lived here.
As the camp of a man who was prospecting for pastime rather than for a grubstake, the place was perfect.