You'd better talk, Mr.Ray.If you was a man gittin' up at three of a winter's mornin', and settin' out with a milk-route at four, an' makin' 'bout half a penny a quart, an' cussed at that 'cause it ain't all cream--if you was as dead tired as I be this minute you might talk." "Well, I'm willing to allow that I am not as hard pushed as you are," said the postmaster, with magnanimous humility.
"You'd better.

Poor devils, huh! I guess I know what poor devils be, and the hell they're in.

Bet your life I do.

Huh!" "I'm a poor devil 'nough myself, when it comes to that," said Amidon, "but I reckon you kin speak for yourself when it comes to talkin' about bein' in hell, Tappan.

Fur's I'm concerned, I'm findin' this a purty comfertable sort of place." Amidon was a tall man, and he stretched his length luxuriously as he spoke.