"Let him alone, Jack," she advised. "Let him go and be just as
wild and devilish as he wants to be. I'm only thankful he can
take it out on a Ford and a pick and shovel. There really isn't
any trouble between us two. Casey knows I can look out for
myself for awhile. He's got to have a vacation from loafing and
matrimony. I'm so thankful he isn't taking it in jail!"

I told her somewhat bluntly that she was a brick, and that if I
could get in touch with Casey I'd try to keep an eye on him. It
would probably be a good thing, I told her, if he did stay away
long enough to let this collection of complaints against him be
forgotten at the police station.

I went away, hoping fervently that Casey would break even his own
records that night. I really intended to find him and keep an
eye on him. But keeping an eye on Casey Ryan is a more
complicated affair than it sounds.

Wherefore, much of this story must be built upon my knowledge of
Casey and a more or less complete report of events in which I
took no part, welded together with a bit of healthy imagination.



CHAPTER TWO

Casey Ryan knew his desert. Also, from long and not so happy
experience, he knew Fords, or thought he did. He made the
mistake, however, of buying a nearly new one and asking it to