I said:  “General, I think you are mistaken.  I never did any detective work among the white people, and I fear I am not good enough a talker to obtain the desired information.”  The General said:  “All right, we’ll see.”

We reached the Fort that night at dark, having ridden forty miles that day.  That evening the General told me to come to his quarters the following day at ten o’clock and he would introduce me to the gentleman referred to.

I went to the General’s quarters and the gentleman was present.  His name was Howard.  By whose authority he was working up this case I never learned, but, however, after questioning me for some time as to what I knew of the Mormons, he asked me what I would charge him per month to go along with him, play the hypocrite, and try to help work up the case.  I told him it was all new work to me; that I knew nothing of detective work whatever.  I said that if it were a case of Indians it would be quite different, but I did not think I would be of much service to him working among the Mormons.

He proposed that he would furnish me a suit of clothes suitable for the part I was to play, furnish money to pay my expenses, such as hotel bills, whiskey bills, ball-room bills, and pay me fifty dollars per month, I to do as he told me, or as near as I could.  “And, at the end of one month,” said he, “if your work does not suit me, or if I don’t suit you, I can pay you off and you can go your way; or if you stay and we work up this case as I anticipate, as soon as the work is completed I will pay you one hundred dollars per month instead of fifty.”

Under these conditions I went to work for him, and the next two days were spent in drilling me on Mormon phrases, their customs And so on, he having been there some three months, had got pretty well posted on the Mormon doctrine.

When I got my new suit of clothes on and he got my hair fixed up just to suit him I looked in the mirror, and I could hardly believe that it was Will Drannan.

The third day we mounted our horses and started across the country to a little town called Provo, which is about forty miles from Salt Lake, if I have not forgotten.  Here, we are both Mormons, are brothers, and our business buying cattle; looking around to see who has cattle to sell.  We arrived at Provo on Sunday evening and made the acquaintance of two young men who were Mormons.  They asked us to go to church with them.  “All right,” said Mr. Howard, “but where will my brother and I stay to-night?” The eldest of the two young men said:  “One of you can stay with me and the other can stay with Jim,” referring to his chum.  So it fell to my lot to go with Jim after church.

On oar way to church, naturally enough the boys asked our names, and Howard spoke up and said:  “My name is George Howard, and this is my brother Frank.”  And I will tell you new with all candor I did not feel right over this, for it was the first time in my life that I had ever lived under an assumed name, but I had agreed to do what I could, and although I would have given the best horse I had to have been out of the scrape, yet I was into it and I was determined to go through with it if possible.  That evening when we came out of church Jim gave me an introduction to his two sisters and they asked me to walk home with them from church, and I did so.