"What do you think of that kind of talk?" he asked.

"I don't own any niggers," said I. "I don't ever expect to own any. I
don't see how slavery can do me any good; and I think the slaves
are human."

I had no very clear ideas on the subject, and had done little thinking
about it; but what I said seemed to be satisfactory to the young man. He
told his friend about it, and after a while the old man, whose name was
Dunlap, came to me and shook my hand, saying that he was glad to meet a
young fellow of my age who was of the right stripe.

"Can you shoot?" he asked.

I told him I never had had much chance to learn, but I had a good gun,
and had got some game with it almost every day so far.

"What kind of a gun?" he asked.

I told him it was a double-barreled shotgun, and he looked rather
disappointed. Then he asked me if I had ever thought of going to Kansas.
No, I told him, I thought I should rather locate in Iowa.

"We are going to Kansas," he said. "There's work for real men in
Kansas--men who believe in freedom. You had better go along with Amos
Thatcher and me."

I said I didn't believe I could--I had planned to locate in Iowa. He
dropped the subject by saying that I would overtake him and Thatcher on
the road, and we could talk it over again. When did I think of getting