“I and my friend out yonder are on our way to Oregon.”
“Umph! you’re pretty green ’uns.”
“Now I suppose you will have no objection to giving me your name.”
“My handle’s Bill Biddon, and I’m on my way to trappin’-grounds up country.”
“How far distant?”
“A heap; somewhar up ’bove the Yallerstone.”
“Do you generally go upon these journeys alone?”
“What’s your handle, stranger?”