Miss Allie Astell’s (my erstwhile biographer and sometime expedition organiser) mysterious disappearance and the need to cope with the ensuing hullabaloo had delayed my departure to the grand ol' USA. Receiving the delightful news that my dear chum is now safe and sound and with these unseemly shenanigans hopefully at an end, I apply a liberal dollop of my patent pomade and with a spring in my step, set off once again in search of my fortune. It is with no little excitement that I board the sleeping car of the Chicago and Northwestern railroad bound for Deadwood, South Dakota. Yee Hah! Fawcett.