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Mr
.
Tate
added
that
Atticus
wasn
’
t
going
to
stand
there
and
maintain
that
any
boy
Jem
’
s
size
with
a
busted
arm
had
fight
enough
left
in
him
to
tackle
and
kill
a
grown
man
in
the
pitch
dark
.
"
Heck
,
"
said
Atticus
abruptly
,
"
that
was
a
switchblade
you
were
waving
.
Where
’
d
you
get
it
?
"
"
Took
it
off
a
drunk
man
,
"
Mr
.
Tate
answered
coolly
.
I
was
trying
to
remember
.
Mr
.
Ewell
was
on
me
.
.
.
then
he
went
down
.
.
.
.
Jem
must
have
gotten
up
.
At
least
I
thought
.
.
.
"
Heck
?
"
"
I
said
I
took
it
off
a
drunk
man
downtown
tonight
.
Ewell
probably
found
that
kitchen
knife
in
the
dump
somewhere
.
Honed
it
down
and
bided
his
time
.
.
.
just
bided
his
time
.
"
Atticus
made
his
way
to
the
swing
and
sat
down
.
His
hands
dangled
limply
between
his
knees
.
He
was
looking
at
the
floor
.
He
had
moved
with
the
same
slowness
that
night
in
front
of
the
jail
,
when
I
thought
it
took
him
forever
to
fold
his
newspaper
and
toss
it
in
his
chair
.
Mr
.
Tate
clumped
softly
around
the
porch
.
"
It
ain
’
t
your
decision
,
Mr
.
Finch
,
it
’
s
all
mine
.
It
’
s
my
decision
and
my
responsibility
.
For
once
,
if
you
don
’
t
see
it
my
way
,
there
’
s
not
much
you
can
do
about
it
.
If
you
wanta
try
,
I
’
ll
call
you
a
liar
to
your
face
.
Your
boy
never
stabbed
Bob
Ewell
,
"
he
said
slowly
,
"
didn
’
t
come
near
a
mile
of
it
and
now
you
know
it
.
All
he
wanted
to
do
was
get
him
and
his
sister
safely
home
.
"
Mr
.
Tate
stopped
pacing
.
He
stopped
in
front
of
Atticus
,
and
his
back
was
to
us
.
"
I
’
m
not
a
very
good
man
,
sir
,
but
I
am
sheriff
of
Maycomb
County
.
Lived
in
this
town
all
my
life
an
’
I
’
m
goin
’
on
forty
-
three
years
old
.
Know
everything
that
’
s
happened
here
since
before
I
was
born
.
There
’
s
a
black
boy
dead
for
no
reason
,
and
the
man
responsible
for
it
’
s
dead
.
Let
the
dead
bury
the
dead
this
time
,
Mr
.
Finch
.
Let
the
dead
bury
the
dead
.
"
Mr
.
Tate
went
to
the
swing
and
picked
up
his
hat
.
It
was
lying
beside
Atticus
.
Mr
.
Tate
pushed
back
his
hair
and
put
his
hat
on
.
