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"
We
’
ll
have
to
make
him
a
deputy
,
go
ahead
.
"
"
Then
all
of
a
sudden
somethin
’
grabbed
me
an
’
mashed
my
costume
.
.
.
think
I
ducked
on
the
ground
.
.
.
heard
a
tusslin
’
under
the
tree
sort
of
.
.
.
they
were
bammin
’
against
the
trunk
,
sounded
like
.
Jem
found
me
and
started
pullin
’
me
toward
the
road
.
Some
—
Mr
.
Ewell
yanked
him
down
,
I
reckon
.
They
tussled
some
more
and
then
there
was
this
funny
noise
—
Jem
hollered
.
.
.
"
I
stopped
.
That
was
Jem
’
s
arm
.
"
Anyway
,
Jem
hollered
and
I
didn
’
t
hear
him
any
more
an
’
the
next
thing
—
Mr
.
Ewell
was
tryin
’
to
squeeze
me
to
death
,
I
reckon
.
.
.
then
somebody
yanked
Mr
.
Ewell
down
.
Jem
must
have
got
up
,
I
guess
.
That
’
s
all
I
know
.
.
.
"
"
And
then
?
"
Mr
.
Tate
was
looking
at
me
sharply
.
"
Somebody
was
staggerin
’
around
and
pantin
’
and
—
coughing
fit
to
die
.
I
thought
it
was
Jem
at
first
,
but
it
didn
’
t
sound
like
him
,
so
I
went
lookin
’
for
Jem
on
the
ground
.
I
thought
Atticus
had
come
to
help
us
and
had
got
wore
out
—
"
"
Who
was
it
?
"
"
Why
there
he
is
,
Mr
.
Tate
,
he
can
tell
you
his
name
.
"
As
I
said
it
,
I
half
pointed
to
the
man
in
the
corner
,
but
brought
my
arm
down
quickly
lest
Atticus
reprimand
me
for
pointing
.
It
was
impolite
to
point
.
He
was
still
leaning
against
the
wall
.
He
had
been
leaning
against
the
wall
when
I
came
into
the
room
,
his
arms
folded
across
his
chest
.
As
I
pointed
he
brought
his
arms
down
and
pressed
the
palms
of
his
hands
against
the
wall
.
They
were
white
hands
,
sickly
white
hands
that
had
never
seen
the
sun
,
so
white
they
stood
out
garishly
against
the
dull
cream
wall
in
the
dim
light
of
Jem
’
s
room
.
