So it transpired that Casey at length returned to the new tent just below the spring in the nameless canyon beyond Crazy Woman Lake.  Chipmunks had invaded the place and feasted upon an opened package of sweet crackers, but otherwise the tent had been left inviolate.  Neither Fred nor his partner had returned.  Wherefore Casey opened more cans and “made himself to home,” as he naively put it.

He was impatient to continue his journey, but since he had nothing of his own except William, he meant to beg or buy a few things from this camp, if either of the owners showed up.  Meantime he could be comfortable, since it is tacitly understood in the open land that a wayfarer may claim hospitality of any man, with or without that man’s knowledge.  He is expected to keep the camp clean, to leave firewood and to take nothing away with him except what is absolutely necessary to insure his getting safely to the next stopping place.  Casey knew well the law, and he busied himself in setting the camp in order while he waited.

But when five days and nights had slipped into history and he and William were still in sole possession, Casey began to take another viewpoint.  Fred might possibly have left in a flying machine.  The partner might have decamped permanently before Fred lost his nerve.  Several things might have happened which would leave this particular camp and contents without a claimant.  Casey studied the matter for awhile and then pulled the four suitcases from beneath the cots and proceeded to investigate.  The first one that he opened had a note folded and addressed to Fred. Casey read it through without the slightest compunction.  The handwriting was different from that of the first note, hurried and scrawly, the words connected with faint lines.  Here is what Fred’s partner had written: 

“Dear Fred:  Don’t blame me for leaving you.  A man that carries the grouch you do don’t need company.  I’m fed up on solitude, and I don’t like the feel of things here.  My staying won’t help your lung a damn bit and if you want anything you can hunt up the men that carry the light.  Maybe they are the ones that are killing off the horses.  Any way, you can wash your own dishes from now on.  It will do you good.  If I had of known you were the crab you are I’ll say I would never have come.  You are welcome to my share of the outfit.  I hope some one shoots me and puts me out of my misery quick if I ever show symptoms of wanting to camp out again.  I am going now because if I stayed I’d change your map for you so your own looking glass wouldn’t know you.  I’ll say you are some nut. 
  Art.”

Casey had to take a fresh chew of tobacco before his brain would settle down and he could think clearly.  Then he observed that it was a damn funny combination and you could ask anybody.  After that he began to realize that he was heir to a fine assortment of canned delicacies and an oil stove and four suitcases filled, he hoped, with good clothes.  Not omitting possession of two spring cots and several pairs of high-grade blankets, and two sweaters and Lord knows what all.