"
"Bad enough so that Lopez sent me in. A fellow gets flyblown if he
stays in the field, so I beat it."
"Has your arm been dressed?"
"No. I wouldn't let these rough-and-tumble doctors touch it.
They'd amputate at the shoulder for a hang-nail. I don't trust
'em."
"Then I'll look at it."
But Leslie shrugged. "Oh, it's feeling fine, right now! I'd rather
leave it alone. I just wanted to see you--"
"You mustn't neglect it; there's danger of--"
"Gee! You're looking great," he interrupted. "It's better than a
banquet just to look at you."
"And YOU!" Norine scanned the invalid appraisingly. "Why, you're
another man!"
"Sure! Listen to this." He thumped his chest. "Best pair of
bellows in Cuba. The open air did it."
"What a pity you were hurt just at such a time. But you would take
insane risks. Now then, let's have a look at your wound." She
pushed him, protesting, into her cabin.
"It doesn't hurt, really," he declared. "It's only a scratch."
"Of course you'd say so. Sit down."
"Please don't bother. If you don't mind--"
"But I do mind. If you won't trust me I'll run for a doctor."
"I tell you I can't stand 'em. They'll probe around and give a
fellow gangrene."
"Then behave yourself." Norine forced the patient into a chair and
withdrew his arm from the sling. Then, despite his weak
resistance, she deftly removed the bandage.
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