Mighty Mouse

In Laramie, Wyoming territory, I met a square-jawed sheriff named Will Harper and his slack-jawed deputy named Clem. I also lost $20. Run, dear, gentlemen! Herewith an Englishman's account of life and death in the west. As a reporter for the London Times, he writes his colorful and unusual stories. But as a man with a gun, he lives and becomes a part of the violent years in the new territories.

Now starring John Dana, this is the story of J.B. Kendall, frontier gentleman. I had taken the stage coach from Dry Creek and was on my way back to Cheyenne. Beside myself, there were two other passages.

One, a gaunt, stern-faced man in Barnaby, who spent most of his waking hours reading from The other, Thad Clark, a miner who, having made a modest fortune, was on his way to his home in Illinois.

It was late afternoon, stage, lurching along the well-worn road a few miles to the west of Laramie. Hey, I tell you fellas, I can order me a dozen fresh eggs and all the fancy fluff duffs they got in the best heat and place in Laramie.

A man should not be a slave to his dumbock. Well, that ain't exactly I'm a slave, Mr. Barnaby. But I sure won't mind pampering it for a while. If you'd eaten as much jerky and drunk as much brown dargill as I have, you'd go along with me.

I'd go along, Mr. Clark. Once? You know what? For two months, I had to live on nothing but dried fish and rice. This is India. A heat, even land. You know? I got a hanker in to do some traveling.