The Czech straddled my recumbent body and prepared to operate, but the lips of the pliers were too wide and closed over two teeth instead of one. He asked for instructions. I gestured and gurgled, "Go ahead—pull em ell out." After much twisting and pulling and grunting, he triumphantly held up his blessed Pliers and displayed two teeth. The consequent relief was so great that fears came into my eyes, and the Czech patted my shoulders, uttering Euttural words of condolence.
A few days later the toothache was only am unpleasant memory. Shortly afterward I found my Czech friend missing Mo one knew anything about him and I concluded regretfully that he had been executed—perhaps for possessing the forbidden pliers. Then the Bolsheviks were persuaded that they had erred in jailing me, and I was released.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.