"Whatsa matter?" he hissed. "Don't you trust me? Your old pal Sam?"
"No," I whispered back. "Last time I let you pay me at the end of the
tour, the take was $3.75 short."
He tried another tack. "But look, Qan, it's a hell of a job getting all
those coins together. Why can't you take paper money instead?"
"What good would paper money do me up here?"
"What I can't figure out is what good the metal does you up here,
either."