Well, Bill, I know God hates a quitter, but I guess I got
a streak of yellow in me wider than the Comstock lode. I was
kicking at my stirrups even before I seen that bunch of whiskers,
and when I took a flash of them and seen he was intending I
should go out before folks without any regular pants on, I says
I can be pushed just so far. Well, Bill, I beat it like a bat
out of hell, as I guess you know by this time, and I would like
to seen them catch me as I had a good bronc. If you know whose
bronc it was tell him I will make it all O.K. The bronc will be
all right when he rests up some. Well, Bill, I am here on the
ranche, where everything is nice, and I would never come back
unless certain parties agree to do what is right. I would not
speak pieces that way for the President of the U.S. if he ask
me to on his bended knees. Well, Bill, I wish you would come
out here yourself, where everything is nice. You can’t tell what
that bunch of crazies would be wanting you to do next thing with
false whiskers and no right pants. I would tell them “I can be
pushed just so far, and now I will go out to the ranche with
Sour-dough for some time, where things are nice.” Well, Bill,
if you will come out Jeff Tuttle will bring you Wednesday when
he comes with more grub, and you will find everything nice. I
have told Jeff to bring you, so no more at present, with kind
regards and hoping to see you here soon.
Your true friend,