“By a majority of two,” agrees Muley, “Telescope will be delighted.”
“My ——!” gasps Art. “Slippery Silverton! I think that box had a shipment from the Golden Cross. What a chance I took!”
“All the way from Piperock,” says I, but I don’t think Chuck got it—he was beyond words.
Me and Muley went up and had a drink, and Muley laughs so hard that he forgot to pay for it. We meets Art a little later on but there ain’t much fun joshing him about it.
“It’s on Chuck,” says he. “He explains the joke to me, and as she’s pulled off as per schedule I thinks it’s all right.”
“But it spoils things for Telescope,” says I. “You knowing about it spoils the hold-up. It might look like a fake. Sabe?”
“That’s right,” agrees Art. “Telescope is a friend of mine and—I got it! I’ll make out that I don’t feel good, and I’ll ask ‘Ricky’ Henderson to drive for me. He wants to come down anyway.”
“That’s fine,” says Muley. “Telescope will make it right with you, and we won’t tell him about today.”
That night we don’t have neither Telescope or Chuck with us. Telescope is just riding away as we come in, and we don’t have a chance to talk with him, and Chuck don’t come home, ’cause he’s too danged ashamed to face Telescope.
The next morning the old man sends me and Muley over to the Triangle to get some cows that Johnny Myers brought out of the Sleeping Crick Hills with some of his, and we misses the picture-taking. We travels as fast as we can, but the stage has gone past when we hits the main road on our way back. There ain’t nobody at the Hell Gate crossing, so we pilgrims on to the ranch.