Ryan, Casey (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Western stories
"Er--I can--and I guess the quicker it's out the better I'll feel."
He took out his familiar plug of tobacco, always nibbled around the edges,
always half the size of his four fingers. I never saw Casey with a fresh
plug in his pocket, and I never saw him down to one chew; it is one of the
little mysteries in his life that I never quite solved.
"I been thinkin' about that devil's lantern we seen the other night," he
said, when he had returned to his pocket the plug with a corner gone.
"They's something funny about that--the way it went over there and stood
on the Tippipahs again. I ain't sooperstitious. But I can't git things
outa my head. I want to go hunt fer that mine of Injun Jim's. This here is
just foolin' around--huntin' silver. I want to see where that free gold
comes from that he used to peddle. It's mine--by rights. He was goin' to
tell me where it was, you recollect, and he woulda if I hadn't overfed him
on jam--or if that damn squaw hadn't took a notion for marryin'. I let her
stampede me--and that's where I was wrong. I shoulda stayed."
I was foolish enough to argue with him. I had talked with others about the
mine of Injun Jim, and one man (who owned cattle and called mines a
gamble) told me that he doubted the whole story. A prospectors' bubble, he
called it. Free gold, he insisted, did not belong in this particular
formation; it ran in porphyry, he said,--and then he ran into mineralogy
too technical for me now. I repeated his statement, however, and saw Casey
grin tolerantly.
"Gold is where yuh find it," he retorted, and spat after a hurrying
lizard. "They said gold couldn't be found in that formation around
Goldfield. But they found it, didn't they?"
Casey looked at me steadily for a minute and then came out with what was
really in his mind. "You stake me to grub and a couple of burros an' let
me go hunt the Injun Jim, and I'll locate yuh in on it when I find it. And
if I don't find it, I'll pay yuh back for the outfit. And, anyway, you're
makin' money off'n my bad luck right along, ain't yuh? Wasn't it me you
was writin' up, these last few days?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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