Lut'er. Gimme one, Giz.
Giz. Gosh! You want th' whole box, don't yer?
Lut'er. Keep yer pills. [He spits.]
Doctor. What's ailin' you, Lut'er?
Lut'er. Oh, a tired feelin'. [There is a long moment of suspended animation, but the Doctor knows that the mills of the gods grind slowly—and he waits for Lut'er to continue.] An' a crick in m' back.
Doctor. I'll cure yer, Lut'er. [Lut'er just looks.] If that Kickapoo doctor with the p'inted muss-tash kin cure yer, I guess I can.
Giz [who has been thinking pretty hard]. Got any terbaccer, Doc?
Doctor. Yep.
Giz. Well, here's a pill fer a chaw. [He and the Doctor rise.]
[Giz takes a pill out of the box and the Doctor takes his tobacco from his pocket, reaches out his hand for the pill and holds out the tobacco, placing his thumb definitely on the plug so that Giz can bite off so much and no more. Giz bites and the Doctor takes over the pill. Lut'er not to be outdone takes a battered plug of tobacco from his pocket and bites of an unlimited "chaw." The Doctor takes his knife from his pocket and cuts the pill, smelling it.]