Major North And Myself Went

With The Help Of A Friend I Got Father Into A Wagon, When The Crowd Had Gone. I Held His Head In My Lap During The Ride Home. I Believed He Was Mortally Wounded. He Had Been Stabbed Down Through The Kidneys, Leaving An Ugly Wound.

Excitement Was Plentiful During My Two Years' Service As A Pony Express Rider.

Major North Has Had For Years Complete Power Over These Indians And Can Do More With Them Than Any Man Living.

You Who Live Your Lives In Cities Or Among Peaceful Ways Cannot Always Tell Whether Your Friends Are The Kind Who Would Go Through Fire For You. But On The Plains One's Friends Have An Opportunity To Prove Their Mettle.

Frontiersmen Good And Bad, Gunmen As Well As Inspired Prophets Of The Future, Have Been My Camp Companions. Thus, I Know The Country Of Which I Am About To Write As Few Men Now Living Have Known It.