"More than you've got," said I.
"I aim to cheapen them babies—or get them wings."
"Wings?"
"They'll need 'em."
"You mean, there's bad water down yonder?"
"Yes, sir. Bad for brown babies. Thar's thousands of millions in Heaven, but they're scarce to be spared down heah, so I'll trade for this lot rather than see 'em wasted."
"Where does the river go?"
"To Heaven. Jest keep right on. You cayn't miss it."
"Is the canyon long?"
"Ef the first mile ain't enough, thar's two hundred comin'."