(_WRITTEN IN THE WILD WEST._)
_Monday_.--Well, here I am. Guess I have got together a pretty tidy
Army, that should beat BARNUM into small potatoes. The Arabs from
Earl's Court will soon go along straight enough. They seem to miss the
Louvre Theatre over yonder, where they were on the free list. Rather
a pity I can't start a Show here, but I calculate the country is too
disturbed.
_Tuesday_.--Nothing much doing. Sent along to SMALL BITE, and he has
promised to come round along with a few of the Ghost-Dancers to let
me see what I think of them. Fancy the _ballet_ has been done before.
That clever cuss GUS, must have used it at Covent Garden when he put
up _Robert the Devil_. It seems like the Nun Ballet--uncommonly.
_Wednesday_.--SMALL BITE is here. He's friendly enough, but his terms
are too high. Fancy they must have been trying to annex him for the
Aquarium. The Ghost-Dance is a fraud. Nothing in it. Might fake
it up a bit with national flags and red fire. But it's decidedly
disappointing. Altogether small pumpkins.
_Thursday_.--Settlers want to know when I am going to begin. They are
always in such a darned hurry. They ought to know I am the hero of a
hundred fights (see my Autobiography--a few copies of which may still
be had at the almost nominal price of half-a-dollar) and should rely
on me accordingly. Am to visit the Indian Camp to-morrow.
_Friday_.--Terms agreed. SMALL BITE and fifty braves engage themselves
for six months certain, sharing terms, travelling exes, and one clear
benefit. I find front of the curtain and advertising, they provide
entertainment, which is to include Ghost-Dance (with banners and
red fire) religious rites, war-dance, and scalping expedition
with incidentals (SMALL BITE says he knows "some useful knockabout
niggers") and procession in and out of towns. Think I can boom it.
_Saturday_.--My connection with war ended. Calculate I start to-morrow
with the Show across the herring-pond, to wake up the Crowned Heads of
Europe!
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