As I said, I went broke in just six weeks and two days. And I was broke a plenty. No hold-outs anywhere. It was a heap long ways to cows; and I'd be teetotally chawed up and spit out if I was goin' to join these minin' terrapins defacin' the bosom of nature. It sure looked to me like hard work. While I was figurin' what next, Dutchy came in. Which I was tur'ble surprised at that, but I said good-mornin' and would he rest his poor feet. "You like to make some money?" he asks. "That depends," says I, "on how easy it is." "It is easy," says he. "I want you to buy hosses for me." "Hosses! Sure!" I yells, jumpin' up. "You bet you! Why, hosses is where I live! What hosses do you want?" "All hosses," says he, calm as a faro dealer. "What?" says I. "Elucidate, my bucko. I don't take no such blanket order. Spread your cards." "I mean just that," says he. "I want you to buy all the hosses in this camp, and in the mountains. Every one." "Whew!" I whistles. "That's a large order. But I'm your meat." "Come with me, then," says he. I hadn't but just got up, but I went with him to his little old poison factory. Of course, I hadn't had no breakfast; but he staked me to a Kentucky breakfast. What's a Kentucky breakfast? Why, a Kentucky breakfast is a three-pound steak, a bottle of whisky, and a setter dog. What's the dog for? Why, to eat the steak, of course. We come to an agreement. I was to get two-fifty a head commission. So I started out. There wasn't many hosses in that country, and what there was the owners hadn't much use for unless it was to work a whim. I picked up about a hundred head quick enough, and reported to Dutchy. "How about burros and mules?" I asks Dutchy. "They goes," says he. "Mules same as hosses; burros four bits a head to you." At the end of a week I had a remuda of probably two hundred animals. We kept them over the hills in some "parks," as these sots call meadows in that country. I rode into town and told Dutchy. "Got them all?" he asks. "All but a cross-eyed buckskin that's mean, and the bay mare that Noah bred to." "Get them," says he. "The bandits want too much," I explains. "Get them anyway," says he. I went away and got them. It was scand'lous; such prices. When I hit Cyanide again I ran into scenes of wild excitement. The whole passel of them was on that one street of their'n, talkin' sixteen ounces to the pound. In the middle was Dutchy, drunk as a soldier-just plain foolish drunk. "Good Lord!" thinks I to myself, "he ain't celebratin' gettin' that bunch of buzzards, is he?" But I found he wasn't that bad. When he caught sight of me, he fell on me drivellin'. "Look there!" he weeps, showin' me a letter. I was the last to come in; so I kept that letter--here she is. I'll read her.