Wal, it looked as if that book was goin' fluey. To make things worse, the boys begun kickin' about havin' t' pack so many guns. And I had to git up a notice, signed by the sheriff, which said that more'n two shootin'-irons on any one man wouldn't be 'lowed no more, and that cityzens was t' "shed forthwith." I seen somethin' had got t' be done pronto. "Cupid," I says to myself, "you _must con_sider that there book of Boston's some more. 'Pears that Boston ain't gittin' all he come after. Nothin' ain't happenin' that he can put into a book. Wal, it's _got_ t' happen. Just chaw on _that._" Next, I hunted up the boys. "Gents," I says to 'em, "help me find a bad man that'll fit into a story with a gal." "Gal?" they repeats. "Yas; every book has got t' have a gal." "I s'pose," says Rawson. "Just like ev'ry herd had got t' have a case of staggers. But--who's the gal?" The boys all lent towards me, fly-traps wide open. "Carlota Arnaz," I answers. Some looked plumb eased in they minds--and some didn't. Carlota, she's ace-high with quite a bunch--all ready t' snub her up and marry her. "The Senorita'll do," says Rawson. "She gen'ally makes out t' keep _some_ man mis'rable." 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?" "Yas." 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!" Bill Rawson jumped nigh four feet. "You go soak you' haid!" he begun, mad's a hornet. "Hole up the dust wagon! And whichever of us mule-skinners happens t' be bringin' it in'll git the G. B. from that high-falutin' gent in the States that owns the shootin'-match. No, _ma'am!_ And if _that's_ the kind of plot you-all 're hankerin' after, you can just count me _outen_ this hawg-tyin'!" "That's right--sic 'em, Towser; git t' fightin'," I says. "Now, Bill, _work_ you' hole-back straps. I cain't say as Sam's plan hit the right spot with me, neither. 'Cause how could _Carlota_ figger in that pow-wow? Won't do."