He looks at me and shakes his head, and then he says, “How would you
like to go to Los Angeles?”
I says, “Is that a figure of speech?” He says, “No,” and I says, “What’s
the joke?” He says, “Emmeline,” and then he takes me down to the depot
and shows me a car-load of furniture, and tells me to get in.
“Now,” says he, “you are welcome to ride to Los Angeles in there, but it
won’t break my heart if you fall off on the way.”