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humor； was laughing。 I felt like it myself； of course I did； but controlled it somehow。 Tomorrow night it was going to be for real； and a man would die there where Toot…Toot was sitting。
〃Shut up； Brutal；〃 I said。 〃You too； Dean。 Harry and Toot； the next remark like that to e out of your mouth will be your last。 I'll have Van Hay roll on two for real。〃
Toot gave me a grin as if to say that was a good 'un； Boss Edgebe； a real good 'un。 It faltered into a narrow； puzzled look when he saw I wasn't answering it。 〃What's wrong witchoo？〃 he asked。
〃It's not funny；〃 I said。 〃That's what's wrong with me； and if you're not smart enough to get it； you better just keep your gob shut。〃 Except it was funny； in its way； and I suppose that was what had really made me mad。
I looked around； saw Brutal staring at me； still grinning a little。
〃Shit；〃 I said； 〃I'm getting too old for this job。〃
〃Nah；〃 Brutal said。 〃You're in your prime； Paul。〃 But I wasn't； neither was he； not as far as this goddam job went； and both of us knew it。 Still； the important thing was that the laughing fit had passed。 That was good； because the last thing I wanted was somebody remembering Toot's smart…aleck remark tomorrow night and getting going again。 You'd say such a thing would be impossible； a guard laughing his ass off as he escorted a condemned man past the witnesses to the electric chair； but when men are under stress； anything can happen。 And a thing like that； people would have talked about it for twenty years。
〃Are you going to be quiet； Toot？〃 I asked。
〃Yes；〃 he said； his averted face that of the world's oldest； poutiest child。
I nodded to Brutal that he should get on with the rehearsal。 He took the mask from the brass hook on the back of the chair and rolled it down over Toot Toot's head； pulling it snug under his chin； which opened the hole at the top to its widest diameter。 Then Brutal leaned over； picked the wet circle of sponge out of the bucket； pressed one finger against it； then licked the tip of the finger。 That done； he put the sponge back in the bucket。 Tomorrow he wouldn't。 Tomorrow he would tuck it into the cap perched on the back of the chair。 Not today； though； there was no need to get Toot's old head wet。
The cap was steel； and with the straps dangling down on either side； it looked sort of like a dough boy's helmet。 Brutal put it on Old Toot…Toot's head； snugging it down over the hole in the black headcovering。
〃Gettin the cap。 gettin the cap； gettin the cap；〃 Toot said； and nouffled。 The straps held his jaw almost closed； and I suspected Brutal had snugged it down a little tighter than he strictly had to for purposes of rehearsal。 He stepped back； faced the empty seats； and said： 〃Arlen Bitterbuck； electricity shall now be passed through your body until you are dead； in accordance with state law。 May God have mercy on your soul。〃
Brutal turned to the mesh…covered rectangle。 〃Roll on two。〃
Old Toot； perhaps trying to recapture his earlier flare of ic genius； began to buck and flail in the chair； as Old Sparky's actual customers almost never did。 〃Now I'm fryin！〃 he cried。 〃Fryin！ Fryyyin！ Geeeaah！ I'm a done tom turkey！〃
Harry and Dean； I saw； were not watching this at all。 They had turned away from Sparky and were looking across the empty storage room at the door leading back into my office。 〃Well； I'll be goddamned；〃 Harry said。 〃One of the witnesses came a day early。〃
Sitting in the doorway with its tail curled neatly around its paws； watching with its beady black oilspot eyes； was the mouse。
5。
The execution went well … if there was ever such a thing as 〃a good one〃 （a proposition I strongly doubt）； then the execution of Arlen Bitterbuck； council elder of the Washita Cherokee； was it。 He got his braids wrong … his hands were shaking too badly to make a good job of it … and his eldest daughter； a woman of thirty…odd； was allowed to plait them nice and even。 She wanted to weave feathers in at the tips； the pinfeathers of a hawk； his bird； but I couldn't allow it。 They might catch fire and burn。 I didn't tell her that； of course； just said it was against regulations。 She made no protest； only bowed her head and put her hands to her temples to show her disappointment and her disapproval。 She conducted herself with great dignity； that woman； and by doing so practically guaranteed that her father would do the same。
The Chief left his cell with no protest or holding back when the time came。 Sometimes we had to pry their fingers off the bars … I broke one or two in my time and have never forgotten the muffled snapping sound … but The Chief wasn't one of those； thank God。 He walked strong up the Green Mile to my office； and there he dropped to his knees to pray with Brother Schuster； who had driven down from the Heavenly Light Baptist Church in his flivver。 Schuster gave The Chief a few psalms； and The Chief started to cry when Schuster got to the one about lying down beside the still waters。 It wasn't bad； though； no hysteria； nothing like that。 I had an idea he was thinking about still water so pure and so cold it felt like it was cutting your mouth every time you drank some。
Actually； I like to see them cry a little。 It's when they don't that I get worried。
A lot of men can't get up from their knees again without help； but The Chief did okay in that department。 He swayed a little at first； like he was lightheaded； and Dean put out a hand to steady him； but Bitterbuck had already found his balance again on his own； so out we went。
Almost all the chairs were occupied； with the people in them murmuring quietly among themselves； like folks do when they're waiting for a wedding or a funeral to get started。 That was the only time Bitterbuck faltered。 I don't know if it was any one person in particular that bothered him； or all of them together； but I could hear a low moaning start up in his throat； and all at once the arm I was holding had a drag in it that hadn't been there before。 Out of the corner of my eye I could see Harry Terwilliger moving up to cut off The Chief's retreat if Bitterbuck all at once decided he wanted to go hard。
I tightened my grip on his elbow and tapped the inside of his arm with one finger。 〃Steady； Chief；〃 I said out of the corner of my mouth； not moving my lips。 〃The only thing most of these people will remember about you is how you go out； so give them something good … show them how a Washita does it。〃
He glanced at me sideways and gave a little nod。 Then he took one of the braids his daughter had made and kissed it。 I looked to Brutal； standing at parade rest behind the chair； resplendent in his best blue uniform； all the buttons on the tunic polished and gleaming； his hat sitting square…john perfect on his big head。 I gave him a little nod and he shot it right back； stepping forward to help Bitterbuck mount the platform if he needed help。 Turned out he didn't。
It was less than a minute from the time Bitterbuck sat down in the chair to the moment when Brutal ；called 〃Roll on two！〃 softly back over his shoulder。 The lights dimmed down again； but only a little； you wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't been looking for it。 That meant Van Hay had pulled the switch some wit had labeled MABEL'S HAIR DRIER。 There was a low humming from the cap； and Bitterbuck surged forward against the clamps and the restraining belt across his chest。 Over against the wall； the prison doctor watched expressionlessly； lips thinned until his mouth looked like a single white stitch。 There was no flopping and flailing； such as Old Toot…Toot had done at rehearsal； only that powerful forward surge； as a man may surge forward from the hips while in the grip of a powerful orgasm。 The Chief's blue shirt pulled tight at the buttons； creating little strained smiles of flesh between them。
And there was a smell。 Not bad in itself； but unpleasant in its associations。 I've never been able to go down in the cellar at my granddaughter's house when they bring me there； although that's where their little boy has his Lionel set…up； which he would dearly love to share with his great…grampa。 I don't mind the trains； as I'm sure you can guess … it's the transformer I can't abide。 The way it hums。 And the way； when it gets hot； it smells。 Even after all these years； that smell reminds me of Cold Mountain。
Van Hay gave him thirty seconds； then turned the juice off。 The doctor stepped forward from his place and listened with his stethoscope。 There was no talk from the witnesses now。 The doctor straightened up and looked through the mesh。 〃Disorganized；〃 he said； and made a twirling； cranking gesture with one finger。 He had heard a few random heartbeats from Bitterbuck's chest； probably as meaningless as the final jitters of a decapitated chicken； but it was better not to take chances。 You didn't want him suddenly sitting up on the gurney when you had him halfway through the tunnel； bawling that he felt like he was on fire。
Van Hay rolled on three and The Chief surged forward again； twisting a little from side to side in the grip of the current。 When doc listened this time； he nodded。 It was over。 We had once again succeeded in destroying what we could not create。 Some of the folks in the audience had begun talking in those low voices again； most sat with their heads down； looking at the floor； as if stunned。 Or ashamed。
Harry and Dean came up with the stretcher。 It was actually Percy's job to take one end； but he didn't know and no one had bothered to tell him。 The Chief； still wearing the black silk hood； was loaded onto it by Brutal and me； and we whisked him through the door which led to the tunnel as fast as we could manage it without actually running。 Smoke … too much of it … was rising from the hole in the top of the mask； and there was a horrible stench。
〃Aw； man！〃 Percy cried； his voice wavering。 'What's that smell？〃
〃Just get out of my way and stay out of it；〃 Brutal said； shoving past him to get to the wall where there was a mounted fire extinguisher。 It was one of the old chemical kind that you had to pump。 Dean； meanwhile； had stripped off the hood。 It wasn't as bad as it could have been； Bitterbuck's left braid was smouldering like a pile of wet leaves。
〃Never mind that thing；〃 I told Brutal。 I didn't want to have to clean a load of chemical slime off the dead man's face before putting him in the back of the meatwagon。 I slapped at The Chief's head （Percy staring at me； wide…eyed； the whole time） until the smoke quit rising。 Then we carried the body down the twelve wooden steps to the tunnel。 Here it was as chilly and dank as a dungeon； with the hollow plink…plink sound of dripping water。 Hanging lights with crude tin shades … they were made in the prison machine…shop … showed a brick tube that ran thirty feet under the highway。 The top was curved and wet。 It made me feel like a character in an Edgar Allan Poe story every time I used it。
There was a gurney waiting。 We loaded Bitterbuck's body onto it； and I made a final check to make sure his hair was out。 That one braid was pretty well charred； and I was sorry to see that the cunning little bow on that side of his head was now nothing but a blackened lump。
Percy slapped the dead man's cheek。 The flat smacking sound of his hand made us all jump。 Percy looked around at us with a cocky smile on his mouth； eyes glittering。 Then he looked back at Bitterbuck again。 〃Adios； Chief；〃 he said。 〃Hope hell's hot enough for you。〃
〃Don't do that；〃 Brutal said； his voice hollow and declamatory in the dripping tunnel。 〃He's paid what he owed。 He's square with the house again。 You keep your hands off him。〃
〃Aw； blow it out；〃 Percy said； but he stepped back uneasily when Brutal moved toward him； shadow rising behind him like the shadow of that ape in the story about the Rue Morgue。 But instead of grabbing at Percy； Brutal grabbed hold of the gurney and began pushing Arlen Bitterbuck slowly toward the far end of the tunnel； where his last ride was waiting； parked on the soft shoulder of the highway。 The gurney's hard rubber wheels moaned on the boards； its shadow rode the bulging brick wall； waxing and waning； Dean and Harry grasped the sheet at the foot and pulled it up over The Chief's face； which had already begun to take on the waxy； ch