One of our men, a hostler, named Kelly, made an impromptu speech one evening, which was comical, but without the surroundings could not be appreciated. Ramson Young started an old-time school play of snapping the whip. It consisted of a captain standing at his post and as many as were take hold of hands and when he gave the word, all start on a swing to run around him. Of course, the outer one must run faster and the trick was to all pull the outer or tail man off his feet and see him try to save himself from falling. They got Kelly on the end and when he came around the next man let go of his hand, his body got ahead of his legs and he ran among the tables and dishes and through the camp fire in his big bare feet, before he could stop, but did not catch on that it was intentional. Next evening the boys gathered again and when Kelly saw that he would be on the tail end, he let go, and stepping onto a stump said: "Gentlemen, I am a Hoosier, born in the State of Indiana, and an uneducated man, but you will never again get me on the tail end of that 'ere." I did not like to see Young impose on Kelly, so I embraced the first opportunity to even up matters. One evening while waiting in camp for supper, near Duluth, Kelly was exhibiting his new shotgun, when Young said to me: "I'm going to bet with Kelly he cannot hit my new hat at twenty paces, and you must load the gun, but put in no shot." "I will do nothing of the kind," I said. "Yes, you will, Mr. Richardson; this is just for a joke." "I tell you I will have nothing to do with your tricks." "Kelly," he cried, "I will bet you a quarter that you cannot hit my new hat at twenty paces, and Mr. Richardson says he will load the gun." "All right," says Kelly, "Richardson is honest; I will trust him." I again refused, but when they both insisted I took the new gun and ammunition and when out of sight I put in, not only a good charge of powder, but a whole handful of buckshot, and when I delivered it, Young said to Kelly: "Suppose we make it fifty cents instead of a quarter?" "All right," said Kelly. By this time all the boys were excited, for they knew Kelly could hit the hat, and Young began betting five and ten cents each, with them, until he had nearly two dollars up and his new straw hat on stake. Young caught me smiling, and looked at a little scared as he whispered, "There is no shot in the gun?" to which I paid no attention. Now Kelly squared himself and took aim long and steady and then fired. Of course, blowing the new hat all to driblets. Young gave me one wicked glance and then stood around like a rooster in the rain, and when the joke got out he simply remarked, "If a man cannot trust a preacher, who can he trust?"