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Lee snorted. "Well, I'd be ashamed of him if he didn't. If he

lets a nice, clean, flesh wound put him out of business he don't

deserve to live. Don't worry any about him, young lady. Say, I

wish I had zwei beer right now, Arlie."

"You mean it? You're not just saying it to please me?"

"Of course, I mean it," he protested indignantly. "I wish I had

three."

"I mean, are you sure he'll get well?" she explained, a faint

smile touching her wan face.

"Yes, I mean that, too, but right now I mean the beer most. Now,

honest, haven't I earned a beer?"

"You've earned a hundred thousand, doc. You're the kindest and

dearest man that ever lived," she cried.