Pretty soon, havin' all the land they wanted, they begun, steady by jerks, to sell each other, notice of them sales appearin' in the _Eye-Opener_ at two-bits apiece. Next, they got to sellin' faster. Then, it was dawg eat dawg. Lickin' things into a' _ex_citin' pass, them lots of theirn flew back'ards and for'ards till the air was plumb full of sand. When the sun went down that never-to-be-fergot evenin' (as the speaker allus says at a _po_litical pow-wow), ole Briggs City was the colour of mesquite. But the pockets of the punchers was so chuck full that, as the hours drug by, our growin' city got redder 'n a section-house, 'cause the boys was busy paintin' it. (But count _me_ out--I had my draw-down, and I was a-hangin' _on_ to it.) Whilst over at the real-estate shack, them gun-shy gents was havin' a quiet, little business talk, gittin' ready fer they onloadin' campaign next day. About ten o'clock, I stopped by they shebang and knocked. When the door was opened, here they all sit, makin' out more deeds 'n you could shake a stick at. I didn't go in. I figgered I'd be gittin' married soon; and no feller wants his face spotted up like a Sioux chief's on his weddin' day. "Gents," I says, "the boys sent me over to thank you all fer pur_chasin'_ property hereabouts in such a blamed gen'rous way. And it's shore too bad that _they_ feel they cain't invest. But they plan to wait a year, and buy in what you got fer taxes." Fer as long as you could count ten, not a' one of 'em said a word. Then the doc stood up. "Who in thunder are _you?_" he ast, voice like a frog. "Why," I answers, "don't you recollect _me?_ I'm Cupid here; but, down at Goldstone, I was the owner of the Lloyd Addition." They jumped like they'd been stuck with a pin. "The Lloyd Addition!" they kinda hisses. "Yas," I goes on. "So I reckon you realise that it wouldn't be no use fer Mister Real-Estate Agent, here, to git three-sheets-in-the-wind, and then let out his grand natu'al development secret; 'r fer our millionaire friend to go send hisself a telegram from Rockafeller. Gent's you' little Briggs City boom is busted." Say! next minute the hull quartette of 'em was a-swearin' to oncet, so's it sounded like a tune--nigger chords and all. Next, Porky begun a solo. Said if they hadn't all been plumb crazy, they'd 'a' knowed they was a screw loose in Briggs. And now here they was stripped cleaner'n a whistle by a set of ornery cow-punchers---- I cut him short. "We know how to cure a dawg of suckin' aigs," I says. "We give him all he wants of 'em--red hot. Wal, you gents had the boom disease, and you had it bad. But I reckon now you've got just about all the land you can hole." They nodded they haids. It was a show-down, and no mistake, and they was plumb offen they high hoss. Blamed if I didn't come nigh feelin' sorry fer 'em! But I goes on, "I'm feard you-all're _just_ a little bit ongrateful to me--_con_sider-in' that I come here t'-night to help y'."