When I joined Custer I donned the uniform of a soldier. It was a bit awkward at first but I soon got to be perfectly at home in men's clothes.

The bigger a man's gun the smaller his doodlewick.

I left Montana in Spring of 1866, for Utah, arriving at Salt Lake city during the summer.

During the fall and winter we built Fort Meade and the town of Sturgis.

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.

Those as don't eat, without exception, fail to survive.

I'm drunk. Correct. What the f*** is it to you?