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It
took
four
men
to
haul
the
hysterical
farmer
off
John
Coffey
,
and
he
fetched
Coffey
I
do
n't
know
how
many
good
licks
before
they
finally
did
.
It
did
n't
seem
to
matter
to
Coffey
,
one
way
or
the
other
;
he
just
went
on
looking
out
across
the
river
and
keening
.
As
for
Detterick
,
all
the
fight
went
out
of
him
when
he
was
finally
pulled
off
--
as
if
some
strange
galvanizing
current
had
been
running
through
the
huge
black
man
(
I
still
have
a
tendency
to
think
in
electrical
metaphors
;
you
'll
have
to
pardon
me
)
,
and
when
Detterick
's
contact
with
that
power
source
was
finally
broken
,
he
went
as
limp
as
a
man
flung
back
from
a
live
wire
.
He
knelt
wide-legged
on
the
riverbank
with
his
hands
to
his
face
,
sobbing
.
Howie
joined
him
and
they
hugged
each
other
forehead
to
forehead
.
Two
men
watched
them
while
the
rest
formed
a
rifle-toting
ring
around
the
rocking
,
wailing
black
man
.
He
still
seemed
not
to
realize
that
anyone
but
him
was
there
.
McGee
stepped
forward
,
shifted
uncertainly
from
foot
to
foot
for
a
bit
,
then
hunkered
.
"
Mister
,
"
he
said
in
a
quiet
voice
,
and
Coffey
hushed
at
once
.
McGee
looked
at
eyes
that
were
bloodshot
from
crying
.
And
still
they
streamed
,
as
if
someone
had
left
a
faucet
on
inside
him
.
Those
eyes
wept
,
and
yet
were
somehow
untouched
...
distant
and
serene
.
I
thought
them
the
strangest
eyes
I
had
ever
seen
in
my
life
,
and
McGee
felt
much
the
same
.
"
Like
the
eyes
of
an
animal
that
never
saw
a
man
before
,
"
he
told
a
reporter
named
Hammersmith
just
before
the
trial
.
"
Mister
,
do
you
hear
me
?
"
McGee
asked
.
Slowly
,
Coffey
nodded
his
head
.
Still
he
curled
his
arms
around
his
unspeakable
dolls
,
their
chins
down
on
their
chests
so
their
faces
could
not
be
clearly
seen
,
one
of
the
few
mercies
God
saw
fit
to
bestow
that
day
.
"
Do
you
have
a
name
?
"
MeGee
asked
.
"
John
Coffey
,
"
he
said
in
a
thick
and
tear-clotted
voice
.
"
Coffey
like
the
drink
,
only
not
spelled
the
same
way
.
"
McGee
nodded
,
then
pointed
a
thumb
at
the
chest
pocket
of
Coffey
's
jumper
,
which
was
bulging
.
It
looked
to
McGee
like
it
might
have
been
a
gun
--
not
that
a
man
Coffey
's
size
would
need
a
gun
to
do
some
major
damage
,
if
he
decided
to
go
off
.
"
What
's
that
in
there
,
John
Coffey
?
Is
that
maybe
a
heater
?
A
pistol
?
"
"
Nosir
,
"
Coffey
said
in
his
thick
voice
,
and
those
strange
eyes
--
welling
tears
and
agonized
on
top
,
distant
and
weirdly
serene
underneath
,
as
if
the
true
John
Coffey
was
somewhere
else
,
looking
out
on
some
other
landscape
where
murdered
little
girls
were
nothing
to
get
all
worked
up
about
--
never
left
Deputy
McGee
's
.
"
That
's
just
a
little
lunch
I
have
.
"
