Mack Nolan had taken possession of a cabin dug into the hill at the head of a long draw.

A brush-covered shed of makeshift construction sheltered a car of the ubiquitous Ford make.

Fifty yards away and in full sight of the cabin, the mouth of a tunnel yawned blackly under a rhyolite ledge.
Casey swept the camp with an observant glance and nodded approval as and stopped before the cabin.
"As a prospector, Mr.Nolan, I'll say 'tis a fine layout you got here.
An' tain't the first time an honest-lookin' mine has been made to cover things far off from minin'.

Like the Black Butte bunch, f'r instance.
But if any one was to ride up on yuh unexpected here, I'll say yuh could meet 'em with a grin an' feel easy about your secrets." "That's praise indeed, coming from an old hand like you," Nolan declared.

"Now I'll tell you something else.