It's a filthy place anyway. The town was not large--just a long street of saloons and stores, and a few shacks on the slope north of the Platte. You've lost blood--we've got to build you up. All he could do was try and endure it--you couldn't shoot grasshoppers.
You don't have to get your feet wet. He stood up. They were grouped in front of the store as if puzzled by the situation. It seemed to him he could see almost a hundred miles--just empty country, and he had to walk it.
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