And fer the bad man, we picked out Pedro Garcia, the cholo that was mixed up in that mete’rite business. Drunk ’r sober, fer a hard-looker Pedro shore fills the bill.
Next, we hunted ev’ry which way fer a plot. “I’ll tell y’,” says Californy Jim, that ole prospector that hangs ’round here; “if the lit’rary lead has pinched out, why don’t you salt–and pretend to make a strike?”
Hairoil pricked up his ears. “Wouldn’t that be somethin’ like a–a scheme?” he ast; “somethin’ like that we planned out fer Cupid here?”
The hull bunch got plumb pale. Then they made fer the door.,
“Wait, boys!” I hollered. “Hole on! Remember this is a scheme that’s been ast fer.”
They stopped.
“And,” I says, “it looks pretty good t’ me.”
They turned back–shakin’ they haids, though. “Just as you say, Cupid,” says Rawson. And, “Long’s it’s fer you,” adds the sheriff. “But schemes is some dangerous.”
“I’ll tell y’!” begins Sam Barnes. “We’ll hole up the dust wagon from the Little Rattlesnake Mine, all of us got up like Jesse James!”