"'Hillo, Shamberlain!' hailed Brent, riding up to the train.

"'Howdydo? Howdydo? No swap!' responded Jake, after the Indian fashion.
'Bung my eyes, ef you're not the mate of all mates I'm glad to see! Pax
vobiscrum, my filly! You look as fresh as an Aperel shad. Praisèd be the
Lord,' continued he, relapsing into Mormon slang, 'who has sent thee
again, like a brand from the burning, to fall into paths of pleasantness
with the Saints, as they wander from the Promised Land to the mean
section where the low-lived Gentiles ripen their souls for hell!'"

Or Jake's droll commentary on the story of Old Bridger, ousted from his
fort, and robbed of his goods, by the Saints, in the name of the Prophet
Brigham.

"'It's olluz so,' says Jake; 'Paul plants, and Apollyon gets the
increase. Not that Bridger's like Paul, any more 'n we're like Apollyon;
but we're goan to have all the cider off his apple-trees.'"

Or, again, Jake's compliments to "Armstrong of Oregon," that galloping
Vigilant Committee of one.

"I'll help you, if I know how, Armstrong. I ha'n't seen no two in my
life, Old Country or New Country, Saints or Gentiles, as I'd do more for
'n you and your brother. I've olluz said, ef the world was chock full of
Armstrongs, Paradise wouldn't pay, and Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob mout
just as well blow out their candle and go under a bushel-basket,--unless
a half-bushel would kiver 'em."

But the true hero of the book is the horse Don Fulano. It is easy to see