They wasn't a pony in sight, nor a squar' foot of land that wasn't either street or straight up.

It made me plumb lonesome for a country where you could see a long ways even if you didn't see much.

And this early in the evenin' they wasn't hardly anybody in the streets at all.
I took a look at them dark, gloomy, old mountains, and a sniff at a breeze that would have frozen the whiskers of hope, and I made a dive for the nearest lit winder.

They was a sign over it that just said: THIS IS A SALOON I was glad they labelled her.

I'd never have known it.