"By thunder, if you haven't got a cocoanut on ye, Jack! Lord, but thet ought to get her a flyin'! Any shootin' ?" "Sure!" Moffat's face exhibited a faint smile at these words of praise.

"It wouldn't be no great shucks of a rescue without, an' this hes got ter be the real thing.

Only, I reckon, ye better shoot high, so thar' won't be no hurt done." When the two gentlemen parted, a few moments later, the conspiracy was fully hatched, all preliminaries perfected, and the gallant rescue of Miss Spencer assured.

Indeed, there is some reason now to believe that this desirable result was rendered doubly certain, for as Moffat moved slowly past the Occidental on his way home, a person attired in chaps and sombrero, and greatly resembling McNeil, was in the back room, breathing some final instructions to a few bosom friends.
"Now don't--eh--any o' you fellers--eh--go an' forget the place.

Jump in--eh--lively.