They paused without the cantina and pooled their coins and Toadvine pushed aside the dried cowhide that hang for a door and they entered a place where all was darkness and without definition.
" ......"
Toadvine took of his hat and put it on the bar and swept a clawed hand through his hair.
What have you got that a man can drink with just a minimum risk of blindness and death.
Cómo?
He cocked his thumb at is troath. What have you got to dring he said.
Blood Meridian, s. 106
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