After the train had gone away down the track in a cloud of white smoke, we held a mock mass-meeting around the depot stove, and elected Tom Carr mayor, Jim Stackhouse treasurer, and Andrew street commissioner, with instructions to “clear the streets of snow without delay so that the city’s system of horse-cars may be operated to the advantage of our large and growing population.” The Norwegian grinned and said:
“Aye tank he be a pretty big yob to put all that snow away.”
READING THE OUTLAWS’ LETTER, DECEMBER SIXTEENTH
In a little while the new street commissioner and I left the others at a game of cards and started out to go to the hotel. There was a strong northwest wind, and the fine snow was sifting along close to the ground. I noticed that the rails were already covered in front of the depot. The telegraph wire hummed dismally. We were plowing along against the wind when we heard a shout and 31 looked up. Over by the old graders’ camp there were three men on horseback, all bundled up in fur coats. One of them had a letter in his hand which he waved at us.
“Let’s see what’s up,” I said to Andrew, and we started over. At that the man stuck the letter in the box of a broken dump-cart, and then they all rode away to the west.
When we came up to the cart I unfolded the letter and read:
To Prop. Bank of Track’s End and other Citizens And Folks:
The Undersined being in need of a little Reddy Munny regrets that they have to ask you for $5,000. Leave it behind the bord nailed to the door of Bill Mountain’s shack too mile northwest and there wunt be no trubble. If we don’t get munny to buy fuel with we shall have to burn your town to keep warm. Maybe it will burn better now than it did last fall. So being peecibel ourselves, and knowing how very peecibel you all are, it will be more plesent all around if you come down with the cash. No objextions to small bills. We know how few there are of you but we don’t think we have asked for too much.