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Updated: May 27, 2025
If you want health, and to grow up with a strictly moral community, you throw in with North Platte of Nebrasky, the great and growin' city of the Plains. I reckon you've heard of North Platte, even where you come from. You take my word for it, and exchange your ticket." It struck me here that the good woman might not be unbiased in her fondness for North Platte.
Chalkeye was there, and Nebrasky, and Trampas, and Honey Wiggin, with others, enjoying the occasion; but Honey Wiggin was enjoying himself: he had an audience; he was sitting up discoursing to it. "Hello!" he said, perceiving the Virginian. "So you've dropped in for your turn! Number six, ain't he, boys?"
The Virginian stopped looking at the sky, and watched Trampas from where he lay. "I think she encourages a man some," said poor Nebrasky. "Encourages? Because she lets yu' teach her how to shoot," said Wiggin. "Well I don't guess I'm a judge. I've always kind o' kep' away from them good women. Don't seem to think of anything to chat about to 'em.
The undertaker peered into the shallow grave. "This hole looks like a chicken had been dustin' itself." "You'd think it was deep enough if you was diggin' in these rocks and drawin' only $5.00 for it," was the tart reply. "I told you I wouldn't dig but three feet for that money. 'Tain't like diggin' in nice, easy Nebrasky soil. Gimme $10 a grave an' I'll dig 'em regalation depth."
She merely inquired further: "Is he to have it washed with soap, maw?" "He shore is. Any one would think you had been born and raised in Arizony or Nebrasky, to hear you talk. I’m plumb ashamed of you, Judy." "But, ’deed, maw, I ain’t big enough to wash his face with soap. It takes Topeka to hold his head."
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