Joe remained always on guard, eyeing Casey suspiciously.

When at last he was permitted to pick up his coat and leave the tunnel, night had fallen so that the gulch was dim and shadowy.

Casey was conducted to a dugout cabin where bacon was frying too fast and smoking suffocatingly.

Paw was there, in a vile temper which seemed to be directed toward the three impartially and to have been caused chiefly by his temporary occupation as camp cook.
Casey watched the old man place food for one person in little dishes which he set in a bake pan for want of a tray.

He added a small tin teapot of tea and disappeared from the dugout.
"Two of us waitin' to see your boss, huh ?" Casey inquired boldly of Joe.