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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Eins!" We rub our glasses with a circular motion on the table. "Zwei!" Again the glasses growl; also at "Drei!" "Drink!" And with mechanical unison every glass is emptied and held on high. "Eins!" says the chairman. The foot of every empty glass twirls upon the table, producing a sound as of the dragging back of a stony beach by a receding wave. "Zwei!" The roll swells and sinks again. "Drei!"
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."
'Ad exercitium Salamandri! Eins! Zwei! Drei! Greif brought his glass down upon the table as he spoke the last words, and the long roll began, like rattling musketry, again and again, to the due number of times. Greif sat down amidst thunders of applause.
A headlight twinkled on the horizon like a star, grew an overpowering blaze, and whooped up the humming track to the roaring music of a happy giant's song: "With a michnai ghignai shtingal! Yah! Yah! Yah! Ein zwei drei Mutter! Yah! Yah! Yah! She climb upon der shteeple, Und she frighten all der people. Singin' michnai ghignai shtingal! Yah! Yah!"
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