I saw an empty one at the head o' the hill.

You see, gennelmen," he added confidentially as he swept the drops of whisky from his long mustache with his fingers and glanced around our group, "I've got some business over at Bigwood," our nearest town, "but ez a place to stay AT it ain't my style." "What's the matter with Bigwood ?" said Briggs, abruptly.
"It's too howlin', too festive, too rough; thar's too much yellin' and shootin' goin' day and night.

Thar's too many card sharps and gay gamboliers cavortin' about the town to please me.

Too much permiskus soakin' at the bar and free jimjams.

What I want is a quiet place what a man kin give his mind and elbow a rest from betwixt grippin' his shootin' irons and crookin' in his whisky.