Me and Muley donates as much as we can to Mike’s game, and then quits. We wanders down to Art Miller’s barn, and sets down in the sun. We haven’t been there long, when we sees the stage drive up to the depot. They dumps some stuff off, and then drives down to the barn. Beside Art is old man Warner’s son Chuck, and when he sees us he grins all over his homely face. Art sees us, and they both whoops. “Awful funny,” says Muley. “Haw, haw!” “Any time yuh don’t think it was yuh got another think coming,” whoops Chuck, hanging on to a front wheel. “Haw! Haw! Haw! Left the danged fool up a—haw, haw, haw—tree!” Art leans against one of his wheelers, and the tears runs out of his eyes. “Some—haw, haw, haw—picture!” gargles Art. “I ain’t laughed so much in my whole life!” Him and Chuck looks at each other, and busts out laughing again. “What seems to be tickling yuh?” asks Muley. “Is it a secret?” “Oh, glory!” gasps Chuck. “Listen, you fellers. That’s going to be some picture. Telescope held up that stage, but nobody will ever see that picture. Haw! Haw! Haw! We drives out of the crossing, and he stops us, just like a regular bandit. Of course we know he’s got blanks in his gun, but we elevates our hands to make the play good, He’s got a sack over his head, so yuh can’t see his face, and I got a false mustache on so he won’t know me. I made it myself. “Well, we kicks the express box off, and sudden-like goes for our guns. He must ’a’ been dreaming to let us get the drop thataway. We makes him throw his gun in the river. Haw! Haw! Haw! “Then we makes him put the box back on the stage,” whoops Art. “After he gets that done we makes him walk down to the river, and get a big rock. Then we marches him back and makes him put it on the empty boot. He made ten trips after boulders. Then we makes him dance a while, crawl all the way around the outfit on his hands and knees, and to finish up we made him climb up an old cottonwood snag, and he’s there when we drives out of sight, with our thumbs at our noses at him. Haw! Haw!” “Wait ’till I see Telescope,” promises Chuck, weak-like. “Haw!” says Muley. “He’d admire to hear it, Chuck. He was here until a while ago, and went over to Bowers’.” “Here? Telescope?” squeaks Chuck. “Uh-huh,” says I. “it was too cloudy, so we postponed taking that picture.” Art and Chuck looks foolish-like at each other and then at us. “Well!” says Chuck “I don’t sabe this.” “That’s the trouble with you, Chuck,” opines Muley. “Art don’t have much sabe either. I reckon you fellers had about ten thousand easy dollars crawling around your stage on its hands and knees, and just to show your contempt for it yuh rode away with your thumbs at your nose and your fingers wiggling at it.” “Sus-slippery Silverton!” stutters Chuck. “That sure was Slippery! Ain’t we the dangdest fools on earth!” “By a majority of two,” agrees Muley, “Telescope will be delighted.”