“Ain’t it true?” nods Chuck. “I’d take a job, too, if I was begged.”
“You!” snorts Telescope. “Haw, haw, haw! Mister Ames told me that if he wanted something for the public to laugh at he’d sure hire you. No, Chuckie. This is a moving picture—not a sideshow.”
“Here’s the idea,” continues Telescope. “Mister Ames wants something real. He wants real punchers and——”
“Ninety-eight cents in Chicago,” nods Chuck. “I seen in a mail-order catalog where yuh could get good ones for——”
“He wants a real hold-up,” states Telescope. “He wants a stage held up, and he don’t want no fake. Sabe? Somehow he’s got the idea that I could do it artistic-like.”
“Your experience will help yuh out,” nods Chuck. “There was a hold-up over in Mexican Cañon once, and the feller——”
“Sufficient, Chuck!” snorts Muley, and Chuck winks at me.
“Well, of course it wasn’t done by one man,” murmurs Chuck. “One of the posse shot the horns off a animile and made a muley. Correct me if I appear to be wrong,”
“You stand corrected,” states Muley. “Desist from historical romance, or I’ll remember one Summer afternoon down in Cottonwood, when a certain man went into a bank, and ——”
“I accepts the correction,” admits Chuck, playing a red queen on a red king, and Telescope continues: