In spite of the imaginative spelling and punctuation, in spite of the pricking suspicion that memory is often short and art often long, these memoirs of Frank Dodge, undercover man for Wells Fargo, and pal of Wyatt Earp, make intriguing reading. Dodge's friendship with Earp began with arrival at Tombstone in 1879 and from that event on, the journal splutters with cases and chases. Sweettalking a sure-shot train robber, Dodge finally had the man rolling a cigarette with his Winchester across his knees: ""I knew that it was my time, and I sure went fast. . . (I) told him to get his hands up quick or I would sure have to drill him--he got them up."" Up in a loft of a Very Suspicious cabinful, Dodge intercepted a visitor with, ""Raise one inch more and I will blow you to Kingdom Come."" Und so weiter. As wily with legal maneuvers as with gunplay, Dodge could carry off sensible capers like handling reward claims. In 20th century style, he suggested turning the management over to a citizens' committee: ""No Complaints to Come to us, No Damage Suits, No Comebacks at all."" These memoirs, letters, etc. were the possession of the editor's father, who had planned a biography, but perhaps Dodge unadorned (and forever uncopy read), will be ultimately more interesting to scholars and wild west fanciers.