A moment later he lifted out a gunny sack bulging unevenly with cooking utensils.

He fished a little deeper, turned back a folded tarp and laid naked to his eyes the top of a whisky keg.

With a grunt of consternation he hastily replaced the tarp, his heart flopping in his chest like a fresh-landed fish.
The stranger was kneeling beside a faintly crackling little pile of twigs, his face turned inquiringly toward Casey.

Casey, glancing guiltily over his shoulder, felt the chill hand of discovery reaching for his very soul.

It was as if a dead man were hidden away beneath that tarp.