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out　chinks　and　slopes　and　spicks　and　micks；　thinking　about　what　Elaine　Connelly　had　said。　He　thinks　youve　got　a　secret。　So　do　I。

And　maybe　I　do。　Yes；　maybe　I　do。　And　of　course　Brad　Dolan　wants　it。　Not　because　he　thinks　its　important　（and　its　not；　I　guess；　except　to　me）；　but　because　he　doesnt　think　very　old　men　like　myself　should　have　secrets。　No　taking　the　ponchos　off　the　hook　outside　the　kitchen；　no　secrets；　either。　No　getting　the　idea　that　the　likes　of　us　are　still　human。　And　why　shouldnt　we　be　allowed　such　an　idea？　He　doesnt　know。　And　in　that；　too；　he　is　like　Percy。

So　my　thoughts；　like　a　river　that　takes　an　oxbow　turn；　finally　led　back　to　where　they　had　been　when　Brad　Dolan　reached　out　from　beneath　the　kitchen　eave　and　grabbed　my　wrist：　to　Percy；　mean…spirited　Percy　Wetmore；　and　how　he　had　taken　his　revenge　on　the　man　who　had　laughed　at　him。　Delacroix　had　been　throwing　the　colored　spool　he　had　…　the　one　Mr。　Jingles　would　fetch　…　and　it　bounced　out　of　the　cell　and　into　the　corridor。　That　was　all　it　took；　Percy　saw　his　chance。

2。

〃No　you　fool！〃　Brutal　yelled；　but　Percy　paid　no　attention。　Just　as　Mr。　Jingles　reached　the　spool　…　too　intent　on　it　to　realize　his　old　enemy　was　at　hand　…　Percy　brought　the　sole　of　one　hard　black　workshoe　down　on　him。　There　was　an　audible　snap　as　Mr。　Jingless　back　broke；　and　blood　gushed　from　his　mouth。　His　tiny　black　eyes　bulged　in　their　sockets；　and　in　them　I　read　an　expression　of　surprised　agony　that　was　all　too　human。

Delacroix　screamed　with　horror　and　grief。　He　threw　himself　at　the　door　of　his　cell　and　thrust　his　arms　out　through　the　bars；　reaching　as　far　as　he　could；　crying　the　mouses　name　over　and　over。

Percy　turned　toward　him；　smiling。　Toward　me　and　Brutal；　as　well。　〃There；〃　he　said。　〃I　knew　Id　get　him；　sooner　or　later。　just　a　matter　of　time；　really。〃　He　turned　and　walked　back　up　the　Green　Mile；　leaving　Mr。　Jingles　lying　on　the　linoleum；　his　spreading　blood　red　over　green。

Dean　got　up　from　the　duty　desk；　hitting　the　side　of　it　with　his　knee　and　knocking　the　cribbage　board　to　the　floor。　The　pegs　spilled　out　of　their　holes　and　rolled　in　all　directions。　Neither　Dean　nor　Harry；　who　had　been　just　about　to　go　out；　paid　the　slightest　attention　to　the　overturn　of　the　game。　〃Whatd　you　do　this　time？〃　Dean　shouted　at　Percy。　〃What　the　helld　you　do　this　time；　you　stoopnagel？〃

Percy　didnt　answer。　He　strode　past　the　desk　without　saying　a　word；　patting　his　hair　with　his　fingers。　He　went　through　my　office　and　into　the　storage　shed。　William　Wharton　answered　for　him。　〃Boss　Dean？　I　think　what　he　did　was　teach　a　certain　french…fry　it　aint　smart　to　laugh　at　him；〃　he　said；　and　then　began　to　laugh　himself。　It　was　a　good　laugh；　a　country　laugh；　cheery　and　deep。　There　were　people　I　met　during　that　period　of　my　life　（very　scary　people；　for　the　most　part）　who　only　sounded　normal　when　they　laughed。　Wild　Bill　Wharton　was　one　of　those。

I　looked　down　at　the　mouse　again；　stunned。　It　was　still　breathing；　but　there　were　little　minute　beads　of　blood　caught　in　the　filaments　of　its　whiskers；　and　a　dull　glaze　was　creeping　over　its　previously　brilliant　oildrop　eyes。　Brutal　picked　up　the　colored　spool；　looked　at　it；　then　looked　at　me。　He　looked　as　dumbfounded　as　I　felt。　Behind　us；　Delacroix　went　on　screaming　out　his　grief　and　horror。　It　wasnt　just　the　mouse；　of　course；　Percy　had　smashed　a　hole　in　Delacroixs　defenses　and　all　his　terror　was　pouring　out。　But　Mr。　Jingles　was　the　focusing　point　for　those　pent…up　feelings；　and　it　was　terrible　to　listen　to　him。

〃Oh　no；〃　he　cried　over　and　over　again；　amid　the　screams　and　the　garbled　pleas　and　prayers　in　Cajun　French。　〃Oh　no；　oh　no；　poor　Mr。　Jingles；　poor　old　Mr。　Jingles；　oh　no。〃

〃Give　im　to　me。〃

I　looked　up；　puzzled　by　that　deep　voice；　at　first　not　sure　who　it　belonged　to。　I　saw　John　Coffey。　Like　Delacroix；　he　had　put　his　arms　through　the　bars　of　his　cell　door；　but　unlike　Del；　he　wasnt　waving　them　around。　He　simply　held　them　out　as　far　as　he　could；　the　hands　at　the　ends　of　them　open。　It　was　a　purposeful　pose；　an　almost　urgent　pose。　And　his　voice；　had　the　same　quality；　which　was　why；　I　suppose；　I　didnt　recognize　it　as　belonging　to　Coffey　at　first。　He　seemed　a　different　man　from　the　lost；　weepy　soul　that　had　occupied　this　cell　for　the　last　few　weeks。

〃Give　im　to　me；　Mr。　Edgebe！　While　theres　still　time！〃

Then　I　remembered　what　hed　done　for　me；　and　understood。　I　supposed　it　couldnt　hurt；　but　I　didnt　think　it　would　do　much　good；　either。　When　I　picked　the　mouse　up；　I　winced　at　the　feel…there　were　so　many　splintered　bones　poking　at　various　spots　on　Mr。　Jingless　hide　that　it　was　like　picking　up　a　fur…covered　pincushion。　This　was　no　urinary　infection。　Still　…

〃What　are　you　doing？〃　Brutal　asked　as　I　put　Mr。　Jingles　in　Coffeys　huge　right　hand。　〃What　the　hell？〃

Coffey　pulled　the　mouse　back　through　the　bars。　He　lay　limp　on　Coffeys　palm；　tail　hanging　over　the　arc　between　Coffeys　thumb　and　first　finger；　the　tip　twitching　weakly　in　midair。　Then　Coffey　covered　his　right　hand　with　his　left；　creating　a　kind　of　cup　in　which　the　mouse　lay。　We　could　no　longer　see　Mr。　Jingles　himself；　only　the　tail；　hanging　down　and　twitching　at　the　tip　like　a　dying　pendulum。　Coffey　lifted　his　hands　toward　his　face；　spreading　the　fingers　of　the　right　as　he　did　so；　creating　spaces　like　those　between　prison　bars。　The　tail　of　the　mouse　now　hung　from　the　side　of　his　hands　that　was　facing　us。

Brutal　stepped　next　to　me；　still　holding　the　colored　spool　between　his　fingers。　〃Whats　he　think　hes　doing？〃

〃Shh；〃　I　said。

Delacroix　had　stopped　screaming。　〃Please；　John；〃　he　whispered。　〃Oh　Johnny；　help　him；　please　help　him；　oh　sil　vous　plait。〃

Dean　and　Harry　joined　us；　Harry　with　our　old　deck　of　Airplane　cards　still　in　one　hand。　〃Whats　going　on？〃　Dean　asked；　but　I　only　shook　my　head。　I　was　feeling　hypnotized　again；　damned　if　I　wasnt。

Coffey　put　his　mouth　between　two　of　his　fingers　and　inhaled　sharply。　For　a　moment　everything　hung　suspended。　Then　he　raised　his　head　away　from　his　hands　and　I　saw　the　face　of　a　man　who　looked　desperately　sick；　or　in　terrible　pain。　His　eyes　were　sharp　and　blazing；　his　upper　teeth　bit　at　his　full　lower　lip；　his　dark　face　had　faded　to　an　unpleasant　color　that　looked　like　ash　stirred　into　mud。　He　made　a　choked　sound　way　back　in　his　throat。

〃Dear　Jesus　Lord　and　Savior；〃　Brutal　whispered。　His　eyes　appeared　to　be　in　danger　of　dropping　right　out　of　his　face。

〃What？〃　Harry　almost　barked。　〃What？〃

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