The widow was a smart woman.

A little touchy on the liquor question, maybe, but smart.

You ask anybody.
Lucky Lode greeted him with dropped jaws and wide staring eyes, which puzzled Casey until the foreman, grasping his shoulder--which made Casey wince and break a promise--explained their astonishment.

They had, as Casey expected, seen his lights when he came off the summit from Yucca Pass.

By the speed they traveled, Lucky Lode knew that Casey and no other was at the steering wheel, even before he took to the lake.
"And then," said the foreman, "we saw your lights go round and round in a circle, and disappear--" "They didn't," Casey cut in trenchantly.