"Feb. 8, 1884.
"I told you that S. had disappeared altogether, and with him my hundred dollars and other money he owed me. Young B. has now come out here, and has so far joined me that we go halves in expenses, and he helps me in all work.... The weather the last four days has been intensely cold, forty below zero. In fact, so cold, that we dared not go out to work, and though we have just put a floor in the shack, just in time, at night the cold wakes one up and sends the creeps down one's back. Our bacon freezes solid, saw and axe only having any effect. Is there no old aunt to die and leave me some money? I do hate to be always bothering you.... Of course we 'bache it' here, and as there is no great variety to cook, cooking is no great hardship.
"We have just finished our supper of bacon and beans, and some stray pieces of meat; and as Burnaby says in his book that tea stays longer by one than coffee, we have been teaing for some time.
"Now is the dull season, of course; but we are getting a few hens, hoping the weather will improve, to make them cackle. It does not seem like the same place now I have some one with me—much pleasanter and a great help in working.
"I must not forget to mention that I hurt my back a few days ago lifting some logs, and I get up every morning like an old man; however, B. has put a porous plaister on my back, and I really don't know which is the greater nuisance of the two, back-ache or plaister."
"March 5, 1884.
"Thanks for sending me the papers! I really don't know what we would do without them; the neighbours make regular calls, weather permitting, to borrow them. Our anxiety for General Gordon is as great here as I suppose it is with you.... Although life is hard and rough here, I like it more and more, and I trust to do well here: our plans for next year are as follows:—To put in about four acres of garden produce, onions, potatoes, &c., and sell the produce; and if we have luck we shall do well on this; not to put any crop in at all, as machinery is too expensive; a reaper, rake and thrashing expenses would eat up our profits, especially as the machinery would have to be bought on time, a system I am not going in for if I can help it. To fence the whole 160 acres in, the posts for which I have already cut (640), besides hen-house logs, &c., with barbed wire, will cost £23, but I hope to sell hay enough off the place to cover this. When the fencing is done, I shall start out somewhere to get work, and stay away six months (the law allows this under the Homestead Act), and B. will run the ranche.
"I hope to earn three dollars a day, but cannot figure on it, as all sorts of accidents may happen; I might not get paid, or I may hurt myself in some way. B. has already six cows from which we hope to make butter and raise the calves; this is the best and surest business, they increase rapidly. The natural grass (bunch grass) is not only good feed, but strengthening and fattening....
"During the season B. ought to have time to cut up at least fifty cords of wood, which left to the fall to season, readily brings in Bozeman six dollars a cord, or in all, 300 dollars.... As the 'Rheumatiz' has got a slight hold of me, the result of working in the snow up to my waist after fencing and timber, I must make an early start to bed.... A general thaw was followed last night by eight inches of snow, bringing the average up again to two feet ten inches on the level."
