"I can't say I'm exactly alone, Deerfoot, for Kit Kellogg and Tom Crumpet ain't fur off, and that meat thar is gettin' cold waiting for them to come and gobble it; if they ain't here in a few minutes you and me will insert our teeth. We've been trappin' all winter down to the south'rd and have got a good pile of peltries; we've got 'em gathered, and loaded, too, and are on our way to St. Louis with 'em; warm weather is comin', and the furs are beginnin' to get poor, so we shall hang our harps on the willers till cold weather begins agin."