"Where are you from?" "Pennsylvania," was the answer. "What did you do before you came out here?" "Been running a bank the past year," the boy replied. "Can you keep books?" "Yes, sir, that's my business," was the answer. "Come to my office in the morning at seven," the man commanded, and left. By eight o'clock the boy had been introduced to the bank and his signature for the firm's checks filed; the combination to the safe given to him with turnover of all the office records with authority and directions to buy anything needed to install a new double-entry system together with full charge of collections and disbursements. Moore and Dodd were the leading livestock dealers; the retail meat market and office occupied their two-story brick in the main square; they furnished meats to the fort and Indian Mission and post traders there, as well as the Army garrison and its officers. In winter, these supplies were transported across the lake the fourteen-mile distance, on sleighs, and now since the old river captain had completed his two steamers, the weekly summer shipments went by boat. A large corral and slaughter house were maintained on the lake border. Three miles south trainloads of livestock were held until disposed of; the firm also controlled the Indian trade, taking from them their offerings of frozen lake fish and the buffalo bones, the only means left to them by which to eke out a miserable existence. So terrible was the suffering of these helpless natives in the bitter winters that it was not an uncommon sight to witness them struggling with hogs through the barbwire fence of the corral to recover the entrails of slaughtered beef in their effort to obtain food for their starving children. It became the duty of the eastern youth to buy the bones and conduct the barter with these stricken Indians for the weigh-scale was just outside his office window. As summer approached, it was rumored that James J. Hill was to sponsor a fat stock show and races with a view to introducing a hardy breed of cattle which might take the place of the native herds already exterminated. Plans were made for the great fair. A stockade was erected inside of which were stalls for the imported Polled-Angus black bulls. A race track was graded for holding the Indian pony contests where the red folks were to hold their ceremonial and war-dances. The big day came; long trains were loaded with crowds from the East, carrying with them four brass bands. Farmers came from the nearby settled section. Soldiers and officers on holiday pass came over in the boat excursion. Indians and "breeds" from all around came with their ponies, squaws and children. It was a gala day and the first to be held in the Indian country, and it was a huge financial success as the youth from the Moore and Dodd firm learned from his office as Treasurer and ticket seller at the main entrance.

The success of the Hill livestock show was heralded throughout the East and Europe for Hill was seeking foreign immigrants for settling the great Inland Empire which lay ahead of his development and he needed capital from London, Paris and Amsterdam with which to finance the extension of his railroad to the westward. Meanwhile in early summer, Alex Smith with other land seekers from Pennsylvania, had arrived with a carload of horses and farm equipment. Alex was a tall, lank Yankee with eagle-eyes, sharp nose and black mustache. He had studied medicine back east where he had earned the right to hang out a shingle and, so, when he elected to room with me, he painted a sign on the door, A. Smith, M. D. Thereafter, he was known as Doc Smith and proceeded to administer bread pills to the inquiring "breeds" and gained the right to make himself useful at the "Palace"--at a profit. Billy benefited much from the fat stock show crowds and with the continued growth of the town, prospered beyond his fondest dreams. He had his bank account nicked considerably along with the other boys when the Lake Bank failed to open one Monday morning when the one man constituting the President, Cashier and Board of Directors had suddenly taken a vacation. He had taken the bank with him and forgot to buy a return ticket. I had sold a horse a few days before and counted in the proceeds in gold pieces for safe keeping at the Lake Bank's window, which made him somewhat sympathetic for Bill's bad guess. To show that he had no regrets, Billy set up the drinks at his Gem Bar and they both soon forgot the loss. The busy summer and fall passed without more than the usual six-gun scrapes and weekly killings; hunting season for ducks and geese was over; the lake froze up and the frozen fish began to appear to be stacked in the ware-rooms like cord wood. Moose, deer and antelope were delivered in frozen carcasses by the outlying settlers to be treated in like manner for carload shipments to the east, all of which was part of the regular duties of the bookkeeper at the Moore and Dodd store. Once there came a soft spell just as a carload of deer was to be billed out to St. Paul. The whole pile wilted to a tainted condition, the carload of choice venison had to be destroyed and so, they were hauled to the lake and dumped for fish food. Freezing of the big lake (at this time a body of water fifty-five miles in extent from east to west) was heralded by the booming of the ice quakes with a noise like the barrage of big guns at the front lines, or a loud clap of thunder. It was the signal for drivers to beware of the crevasse. One night on the return trip from delivering meat supplies at the Fort, Dave Roberts, stable man for Moore and Dodd, was speeding along in his double cutter, deeply blanketed in fur-lined bag and buffalo robes, when with deafening roar, an ice-crack opened just ahead, and before he could slow down his ponies, they dropped into it. The momentum was so great that the tongue and neck-yoke rested on the opposite lip of the crevasse and suspended the struggling horses until Dave, by some unexplained miracle, was able to rescue them and save his own life by making his way home the remaining seven miles in the 45� below zero temperature. Dave was justified this time in stopping on the way at the "Palace" for a drink, as he explained, just to take the chill off and to steady his nerves so he could bandage his skinned up ponies' legs in workman-like manner. His expense account was approved by the writer without further comment or criticism.