While In El Paso, I Met Mr.

Left The Ranch In 1883, Went To California, Going Through The States And Territories, Reached Ogden The Latter Part Of 1883, And San Francisco In 1884.

I Was In Deadwood At The Time And On Hearing Of The Killing Made My Way At Once To The Scene Of The Shooting And Found That My Friend Had Been Killed By Mccall.

I'd Punch That Cocksucker In The Balls Before I'd Cup Him For Comfort.

I Left Montana In Spring Of 1866, For Utah, Arriving At Salt Lake City During The Summer.

I'm Drunk. Correct. What The F*** Is It To You?