Without thinking, CJ leaped from the chariot. He flew through the air, arms outstretched, his little leather duster flapping. For one terrible second, he was just a doll—a collection of painted resin and string. But he was also a cowboy. And cowboys don’t let their friends fade away.
“He’s the only one who remembers us when the sun comes up,” CJ said. “He’s the one who tells the new guards to be careful with the diorama. He’s the one who brought us here, across an ocean, just to save us. You give him one last night. One real, full, magical night. And let the rest of us go peaceful.” night at the museum 3 cj
And with that, the last grain of magic left CJ’s body. He turned from painted resin to simple, lifeless plastic. A toy. But as Larry held him, the first light of dawn crept through a high window of the British Museum. The other exhibits fell still—Jedediah frozen mid-salute, Rexy a skeleton of bone, the Neanderthals collapsed in a heap. Without thinking, CJ leaped from the chariot
The Last Round-Up of CJ the Miniature Cowboy But he was also a cowboy