"'Get up!'
"Talk of mir'cals! Which you should have seen that rhoomatic! With one turrific squawk he lands on his knees at the feet of Boggs, beggin' for mercy.
"'Don't kill me,' he cries; 'I'll show you whar I plants the money.'
"Whoever is that rhoomatic? Which he's the stoodent who stands up the stage over by Whetstone Springs. His rhoomatism's merely that malefactor's way of goin' onder cover.
"The Professor later offers to divide with Boggs on the two thousand-dollar reward the Wells-Fargo folks pays, but Boggs shakes his head.
"'You take the entire wad, Professor,' says he, wavin' aside that gen'rous necromancer. 'It's the trophy of your own hypnotic bow an' spear. What share is borne by my .45 is incidental. Which I'll say, too, that if I was playin' your hand I'd spread that cure on my posters as the star mir'cle of my c'reer.'"