Casey had vaguely expected some such bar to his path, and he merely gave a grunt of satisfaction that the lock was old and on his side of the door.
With his jackknife Casey speedily took off one side of the lock and opened it.

Making the door appear locked behind him when he had passed through was a different matter, and Casey did not attempt it.

Instead, he merely closed the door behind him, carrying the padlock in with him.
As Casey reviewed his situation, being on the butte at all was a risk in itself.

One detail more or less could not matter so much.

Besides, he was a bold Casey Ryan with two loaded half-sticks of dynamite in his sling.
A crude ladder against the wall of a roomy stope beyond the door did not in the least surprise him.