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"
You
do
n't
know
the
half
of
it
,
"
Dean
said
.
"
Oh
,
look
on
the
bright
side
,
"
Bill
said
.
He
was
always
telling
people
to
look
on
the
bright
side
;
it
got
so
you
wanted
to
punch
his
nose
every
time
it
came
out
of
his
mouth
.
"
Your
trick
mouse
got
away
,
at
least
.
"
"
Yeah
,
but
we
wo
n't
see
him
no
more
,
"
Dean
said
.
"
I
imagine
this
time
goddam
Percy
Wetmore
's
scared
him
off
for
good
.
"
That
was
logical
but
wrong
.
The
mouse
was
back
the
very
next
evening
,
which
just
happened
to
be
the
first
of
Percy
Wetmore
's
two
nights
off
before
he
slid
over
to
the
graveyard
shift
.
Steamboat
Willy
showed
up
around
seven
o'clock
.
I
was
there
to
see
his
reappearance
;
so
was
Dean
.
Harry
Terwilliger
,
too
.
Harry
was
on
the
desk
.
I
was
technically
on
days
,
but
had
stuck
around
to
spend
an
extra
hour
with
The
Chief
,
whose
time
was
getting
close
by
then
.
Bitterbuck
was
stoical
on
the
outside
,
in
the
tradition
of
his
tribe
,
but
I
could
see
his
fear
of
the
end
growing
inside
him
like
a
poison
flower
.
So
we
talked
.
You
could
talk
to
them
in
the
daytime
but
it
was
n't
so
good
,
with
the
shouts
and
conversation
(
not
to
mention
the
occasional
fist-fight
)
coming
from
the
exercise
yard
,
the
chonk-chonk-chonk
of
the
stamping
machines
in
the
plate-shop
,
the
occasional
yell
of
a
guard
for
someone
to
put
down
that
pick
or
grab
up
that
hoe
or
just
to
get
your
ass
over
here
,
Harvey
.
After
four
it
got
a
little
better
,
and
after
six
it
got
better
still
.
Six
to
eight
was
the
optimum
time
.
After
that
you
could
see
the
long
thoughts
starting
to
steal
over
their
minds
again
--
in
their
eyes
you
could
see
it
,
like
afternoon
shadows
--
and
it
was
best
to
stop
.
They
still
heard
what
you
were
saying
,
but
it
no
longer
made
sense
to
them
.
Past
eight
they
were
getting
ready
for
the
watches
of
the
night
and
imagining
how
the
cap
would
feel
when
it
was
clamped
to
the
tops
of
their
heads
,
and
how
the
air
would
smell
inside
the
black
bag
which
had
been
rolled
down
over
their
sweaty
faces
.
But
I
got
The
Chief
at
a
good
time
.
He
told
me
about
his
first
wife
,
and
how
they
had
built
a
lodge
together
up
in
Montana
.
Those
had
been
the
happiest
days
of
his
life
,
he
said
.
The
water
was
so
pure
and
so
cold
that
it
felt
like
your
mouth
was
cut
every
time
you
drank
.
"
Hey
,
Mr.
Edgecombe
,
"
he
said
.
"
You
think
,
if
a
man
he
sincerely
repent
of
what
he
done
wrong
,
he
might
get
to
go
back
to
the
time
that
was
happiest
for
him
and
live
there
forever
?
Could
that
be
what
heaven
is
like
?
"
"
I
've
just
about
believed
that
very
thing
,
"
I
said
,
which
was
a
he
I
did
n't
regret
in
the
least
.
I
had
learned
of
matters
eternal
at
my
mother
's
pretty
knee
,
and
what
I
believed
is
what
the
Good
Book
says
about
murderers
:
that
there
is
no
eternal
life
in
them
.
I
think
they
go
straight
to
hell
,
where
they
burn
in
torment
until
God
finally
gives
Gabriel
the
nod
to
blow
the
Judgment
Trump
.
When
he
does
,
they
'll
wink
out
...
and
probably
glad
to
go
they
will
be
.
But
I
never
gave
a
hint
of
such
beliefs
to
Bitterbuck
,
or
to
any
of
them
.
I
think
in
their
hearts
they
knew
it
.
Where
is
your
brother
,
his
blood
crieth
to
me
from
the
ground
,
God
said
to
Cain
,
and
I
doubt
if
the
words
were
much
of
a
surprise
to
that
particular
problem-child
;
I
bet
he
heard
Abel
's
blood
whining
out
of
the
earth
at
him
with
each
step
he
took
.
