So Casey pulled on his pants and gave Smith some gas, and paid the garage out of his own pocket.
He didn't swear, either.

He was past that.
That afternoon Casey watched apprehensively the road that led west.

It was two-thirty when he saw them coming.

Casey set his jaw and went in and hid every blow-out patch he had in stock, and all the cement.
Smith went into camp, sent Greeley after the Oasis tub and watered the goats from one of Casey's water barrels.

Casey went on with his work, waiting upon customers who paid, and tried not to think of the Smiths, although most of them were underfoot or at his elbow.
"Them tires you mended ain't worth a cuss," Smith came around finally to complain.