E.B. Farnum:
Could you have been born, Richardson? And not egg-hatched as I've always assumed? Did your mother hover over you, snaggle-toothed and doting as you now hover over me?
Richardson:
I loved my mother.
E.B. Farnum:
Puberty may bring you to understand, what we take for mother love is really murderous hatred and a desire for revenge.
Richardson:
Will you give your speech to be Mayor tonight?
E.B. Farnum:
Whatever night I give it, count on me not to mince words. 'Electors of the camp, as to who should serve as Mayor reasonable men may differ, but as to who should be Sheriff we all ought speak with one voice and our words should be turn out the maniac Bullock, who set upon the Mayor unprovoked, who beat him with merciless protraction. Bulllock should be murdered! We should rise up and murder Bullock! Thank you very much.'
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