“If you’d just go to sleep, Spider,” sez I, “it would save your brain the trouble o’ thinkin’ up a lot o’ thoughts which ain’t no use anyhow. I’m goin’ to let Shorty take ’em over this evenin’ an’ sell ’em to Eugene.”
“How do you know he wants ’em?”
“’Cause I know Eugene,” sez I. “I’ll fix up Shorty’s tale for him.”
Well, we explained to Shorty the bettin’ principle of guinea-pigs, an’ gave him the pigs, tellin’ him he could have all he won from Eugene on the first bet; but to then sell ’em to Eugene without lettin’ any o’ the other fellers know anything about it, an’ to make Eugene think that he had picked ’em up from a train passenger, not from us.
Shorty said that he’d go over that afternoon as soon as the passenger had gone—Shorty was the telegraph operator—so Spider an’ I came back, he sleepin’ all the way.
“Where do we come in on this deal?” sez Spider next day.
“We’ll give Eugene a chance to cut their hair a new way, an’ then we’ll go over to Boggs an’ line things up.”
“I’m beginnin’ to see how it could be worked out,” sez Spider, grinnin’.
In about a week we went over to Boggs, an’ found the town purty well deserted. We dropped into ol’ man Dort’s to compliment Columbus some an’ sympathize with Ben Butler a little, while tryin’ to hear if Eugene had made his play yet. The ol’ man was gloatin’ over the fact that Eugene wasn’t havin’ much trade, but he didn’t mention anything about guinea-pigs.
“You don’t seem rushed, yourself,” sez I.