didn’t put him in it too. … Does that hurt?”
“Not to speak of,” he said, and the sweat big as marbles running down his face and his face about the colour of blotting-paper.
“ ’Course not,” I said. “About next summer you can hobble around fine on this leg. Then it won’t bother you, not to speak of … If you had anything you could call luck, you might say it was lucky this is the same leg you broke before,” I said.
“Hit’s what paw says,” he said.