绿里奇迹(英文版)-第13部分

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We'll　make　us　a　regular　Mousie　Hilton；　before　we're　through。〃　He　shifted　his　eyes　to　me。　〃I'm　supposed　to　write　a　switch…room　report　about　Bitterbuck；〃　he　said。　〃Is　there　some　pens　in　your　office；　Paul？〃　
〃Yes；　indeed；〃　I　said。　〃Forms；　too。　Lefthand　top　drawer。〃　
〃Well；　that's　aces；〃　he　said；　and　went　swaggering　off。　
Harry　and　I　looked　at　each　other。　〃Is　he　sick；　do　you　think？〃　Harry　asked。　〃Maybe　went　to　his　doctor　and　found　out　he's　only　got　three　months　to　live？〃　
I　told　him　I　didn't　have　the　slightest　idea　what　was　up。　It　was　the　truth　then；　and　for　awhile　after；　but　I　found　out　in　time。　And　a　few　years　later；　I　had　an　interesting　supper…table　conversation　with　Hal　Moores。　By　then　we　could　talk　freely；　what　with　him　being　retired　and　me　being　at　the　Boys'　Correctional。　It　was　one　of　those　meals　where　you　drink　too　much　and　eat　too　little；　and　tongues　get　loosened。　Hal　told　me　that　Percy　had　been　in　to　plain　about　me　and　about　life　on　the　Mile　in　general。　This　was　just　after　Delacroix　came　on　the　block；　and　Brutal　and　I　had　kept　Percy　from　beating　him　half　to　death。　What　had　griped　Percy　the　most　was　me　telling　him　to　get　out　of　my　sight。　He　didn't　think　a　man　who　was　related　to　the　governor　should　have　to　put　up　with　talk　like　that。　
Well；　Moores　told　me；　he　had　stood　Percy　off　for　as　long　as　he　could；　and　when　it　became　dear　to　him　that　Percy　was　going　to　try　pulling　some　strings　to　get　me　reprimanded　and　moved　to　another　part　of　the　prison　at　the　very　least；　he；　Moores；　had　pulled　Percy　into　his　office　and　told　him　that　if　he　quit　rocking　the　boat；　Moores　would　make　sure　that　Percy　was　out　front　for　Delacroix's　execution。　That　he　would；　in　fact；　be　placed　right　beside　the　chair。　I　would　be　in　charge；　as　always；　but　the　witnesses　wouldn't　know　that；　to　them　it　would　look　as　if　Mr。　Percy　Wetmore　was　boss　of　the　cotillion。　Moores　wasn't　promising　any　more　than　what　we'd　already　discussed　and　I'd　gone　along　with；　but　Percy　didn't　know　that。　He　agreed　to　leave　off　his　threats　to　have　me　reassigned；　and　the　atmosphere　on　E　Block　sweetened。　He　had　even　agreed　that　Delacroix　could　keep　Percy's　old　nemesis　as　a　pet。　It's　amazing　how　some　men　can　change；　given　the　right　incentive；　in　Percy's　case；　all　Warden　Moores　had　to　offer　was　the　chance　to　take　a　bald　little　Frenchman's　life。　
9。　
Toot…Toot　felt　that　four　cents　was　far　too　little　for　a　prime　Corona　cigar　box；　and　in　that　he　was　probably　right　…　cigar　boxes　were　highly　prized　objects　in　prison。　A　thousand　different　small　items　could　be　stored　in　them；　the　smell　was　pleasant；　and　there　was　something　about　them　that　reminded　our　customers　of　what　it　was　like　to　be　free　men。　Because　cigarettes　were　permitted　in　prison　but　cigars　were　not；　I　imagine。　
Dean　Stanton；　who　was　back　on　the　block　by　then；　added　a　penny　to　the　pot；　and　I　kicked　one　in；　as　well。　When　Toot　still　proved　reluctant；　Brutal　went　to　work　on　him；　first　telling　him　he　ought　to　be　ashamed　of　himself　for　behaving　like　such　a　cheapskate；　then　promising　him　that　he；　Brutus　Howell；　would　personally　put　that　Corona　box　back　in　Toot's　hands　the　day　after　Delacroix's　execution。　〃Six　cents　might　or　might　not　be　enough　if　you　was　speaking　about　selling　that　cigar　box；　we　could　have　a　good　old　barber…shop　argument　about　that；〃　Brutal　said；　〃but　you　have　to　admit　it's　a　great　price　for　renting　one。　He's　gonna　walk　the　Mile　in　a　month；　six　weeks　at　the　very　outside。　Why；　that　box'll　be　back　on　the　shelf　under　your　cart　almost　before　you　know　it's　gone。〃　
〃He　could　get　a　soft…hearted　judge　to　give　im　a　stay　and　still　be　here　to　sing　'Should　old　acquaintances　be　forgot；'〃　Toot　said；　but　he　knew　better　and　Brutal　knew　he　did。　Old　Toot…Toot　had　been　pushing　that　damned　Bible…quoting　cart　of　his　around　Cold　Mountain　since　Pony　Express　days；　practically；　and　he　had　plenty　of　sources；　better　than　ours；　I　thought　then。　He　knew　Delacroix　was　fresh　out　of　soft…hearted　judges。　All　he　had　left　to　hope　for　was　the　governor；　who　as　a　rule　didn't　issue　clemency　to　folks　who　had　baked　half　a　dozen　of　his　constituents。　
〃Even　if　he　don't　get　a　stay；　that　mouse'd　be　shitting　in　that　box　until　October；　maybe　even　Thanksgiving；〃　Toot　argued；　but　Brutal　could　see　he　was　weakening。　〃Who　gonna　buy　a　cigar　box　some　mouse　been　using　for　a　toilet？〃　
〃Oh　jeez…Louise；〃　Brutal　said。　〃That's　the　numbest　thing　I've　ever　heard　you　say；　Toot。　I　mean；　that　takes　the　cake。　First；　Delacroix　will　keep　the　box　clean　enough　to　eat　a　church　dinner　out　of　…　the　way　he　loves　that　mouse；　he'd　lick　it　clean　if　that's　what　it　took。〃　
〃Easy　on　dat　stuff；〃　Toot　said；　wrinkling　his　nose。　
〃Second；〃　Brutal　went　on；　〃mouse…shit　is　no　big　deal；　anyway。　It's　just　hard　little　pellets；　looks　like　birdshot。　Shake　it　right　out。　Nothing　to　it！〃　
Old　Toot　knew　better　than　to　carry　his　protest　any　further；　he'd　been　on　the　yard　long　enough　to　understand　when　he　could　afford　to　face　into　the　breeze　and　when　he'd　do　better　to　bend　in　the　hurricane。　This　wasn't　exactly　a　hurricane；　but　we　bluesuits　liked　the　mouse；　and　we　liked　the　idea　of　Delacroix　having　the　mouse；　and　that　meant　it　was　at　least　a　gale。　So　Delacroix　got　his　box；　and　Percy　was　as　good　as　his　word　…　two　days　later　the　bottom　was　lined　with　soft　pads　of　cotton　batting　from　the　dispensary。　Percy　handed　them　over　himself；　and　I　could　see　the　fear　in　Delacroix's　eyes　as　he　reached　out　through　the　bars　to　take　them。　He　was　afraid　Percy　would　grab　his　hand　and　break　his　fingers。　I　was　a　little　afraid　of　it　too；　but　no　such　thing　happened。　That　was　the　closest　I　ever　came　to　liking　Percy；　but　even　then　it　was　hard　to　mistake　the　look　of　cool　amusement　in　his　eyes。　Delacroix　had　a　pet；　Percy　had　one　too。　Delacroix　would　keep　his；　petting　it　and　loving　it　as　long　as　he　could；　Percy　would　wait　patiently　（as　patiently　as　a　man　like　him　could　anyway）；　and　then　burn　his　alive。　
〃Mousie　Hilton；　open　for　business。〃　Harry　said。　〃The　only　question　is；　will　the　little　bugger　use　it？〃　
That　question　was　answered　as　soon　as　Delacroix　caught　Mr。　Jingles　up　in　one　hand　and　lowered　him　gently　into　the　box。　The　mouse　snuggled　into　the　white　cotton　as　if　it　were　Aunt　Bea's　forter；　and　that　was　his　home　from　then　until　。。。　well；　I'll　get　to　the　end　of　Mr。　Jingles's　story　in　good　time。　
Old　Toot…Toots　worries　that　the　cigar　box　would；　fill　up　with　mouse…shit　proved　to　be　entirely　groundless。　I　never　saw　a　single　turd　in　there；　and　Delacroix　said　he　never　did；　either；　anywhere　in　his　cell；　for　that　matter。　Much　later；　around　the　time　Brutal　showed　me　the　hole　in　the　beam　and　we　found　the　colored　splinters；　I　moved　a　chair　out　of　the　restraint　room's　east　corner　and　found　a　little　pile　of　mouse　turds　back　there。　He　had　always　gone　back　to　the　same　place　to　do　his　business；　seemingly；　and　as　far　from　us　as　he　could　get。　Here's　another　thing：　I　never　saw　him　peeing；　and　usually　mice　can　hardly　turn　the　faucet　off　for　two　minutes　at　a　time；　especially　while　they're　eating。　I　told　you；　the　damned　thing　was　one　of　God's　mysteries。　
A　week　or　so　after　Mr。　Jingles　had　settled　into　the　cigar　box；　Delacroix　called　me　and　Brutal　down　to　his　cell　to　see　something。　He　did　that　so　much　it　was　annoying　…　if　Mr。　Jingles　so　much　as　rolled　over　on　his　back　with　his　paws　in　the　air；　it　was　the　cutest　thing　on　God's　earth；　as　far　as　that　half…pint　Cajun　was　concerned　…　but　this　time　what　he　was　up　to　really　was　sort　of　amusing。　
Delacroix　had　been　pretty　much　forgotten　by　the　world　following　his　conviction；　but　he　had　one　relation　…　an　old　maiden　aunt；　I　believe　…　who　wrote　him　once　a　week。　She　had　also　sent　him　an　enormous　bag　of　peppermint　candies；　the　sort　which　are　marketed　under　the　name　Canada　Mints　these　days。　They　looked　like　big　pink　pills。　Delacroix　was　not　allowed　to　have　the　whole　bag　at　once；　naturally　…　it　was　a　five…pounder；　and　he　would　have　gobbled　them　until　he　had　to　go　to　the　infirmary　with　stomach…gripes。　Like　almost　every　murderer　we　ever　had　on　the　Mile；　he　had　absolutely　no　understanding　of　moderation。　We'd　give　them　out　to　him　half　a　dozen　at　a　time；　and　only　then　if　he　remembered　to　ask。　
Mr。　Jingles　was　sitting　beside　Delacroix　on　the　bunk　when　we　got　down　there；　holding　one　of　those　pink　candies　in　his　paws　and　munching　contentedly　away　at　it。　Delacroix　was　simply　overe　with　delight　…　he　was　like　a　classical　pianist　watching　his　five…year…old　son　play　his　first　halting　exercises。　But　don't　get　me　wrong；　it　was　funny；　a　real　hoot。　The　candy　was　half　the　size　of　Mr。　Jingles；　and　his　whitefurred　belly　was　already　distended　from　it。　
〃Take　it　away　from　him；　Eddie；〃　Brutal　said；　half…laughing　and　half…horrified。　〃Christ　almighty　Jesus；　he'll　eat　till　he　busts。　I　can　smell　that　peppermint　from　here。　How　many　have　you　let　him　have？〃　
〃This　his　second；〃　Delacroix　said；　looking　a　little　nervously　at　Mr。　Jingles's　belly。　〃You　really　think　he　。。。　you　know　。。。　bus'　his　guts？〃　
〃Might；〃　Brutal　said。　
That　was　enough　authority　for　Delacroix。　He　reached　for　the　half…eaten　pink　mint。　I　expected　the　mouse　to　nip　him；　but　Mr。　Jingles　gave　over　that　mint　…　what　remained　of　it；　anyway　…　as　meek　as　could　be。　I　looked　at　Brutal；　and　Brutal　gave　his　head　a　little　shake　as　if　to　say　no；　he　didn't　understand　it；　either。　Then　Mr。　Jingles　plopped　down　into　his　box　and　lay　there　on　his　side　in　an　exhausted　way　that　made　all　three　of　us　laugh。　After　that；　we　got　used　to　seeing　the　mouse　sitting　beside　Delacroix；　holding　a　mint　and　munching　away　on　it　just　as　neatly　as　an　old　lady　at　an　afternoon　tea…party；　both　of　them　surrounded　by　what　I　later　smelled　in　that　hole　in　the　beam　…　the　half…bitter；　half…sweet　smell　of　peppermint　candy。　
There's　one　more　thing　to　tell　you　about　Mr。　Jingles　before　moving　on　to　the　arrival　of　William　Wharton；　which　was　when　the　cyclone　really　touched　down　on　E　Block。　A　week　or　so　after　the　incident　of　the　peppermint　candies　…　around　the　time　when　we'd　pretty　much　decided　Delacroix　wasn't　going　to　feed　his　pet　to　death；　in　other　words　…　the　Frenchman　called　me　down　to　his　cell。　I　was　on　my　own　for　the　time　being；　Brutal　over　at　the　missary　for　something；　and　according　to　the　regs；　I　was　not　supposed　to　approach　a　prisoner　in　such　circumstances。　But　since　I　probably　could　have　shot…putted　Delacroix　twenty　yards　one…handed　on　a　good　day；　I　decided　to　break　the　rule　and　see　what　he　wanted。　
〃Watch　this；　Boss　Edgebe；〃　he　said。　〃You　gonna　see　what　Mr。　Jingles　can　do！〃　He　reached　behind　the　cigar　box　and　brought　up　a　small　wooden　spool。　
〃Where'd　you　get　that？〃　I　asked　him；　although　I　supposed　I　knew。　There　was　really　only　one　person　he　could　have　gotten　it　from。　
〃Old　Toot…Toot；〃　he　said。　'Watch　this。〃　
I　was　already　watching；　and　could　see　Mr。　Jingles　in　his　box；　standing　up　with　his　small　front　paws　propped　on　the　edge；　his　black　eyes　fixed　on　the　spool　Delacroix　was　holding　between　the　thumb　and　first　finger　of　his　right　hand。　I　felt　a　funny　little　chill　go　up　my　back。　I　had　never　seen　a　mere　mouse　attend　to　something　with　such　sharpness　…　with　such　intelligence。　I　don't　really　believe　that　Mr。　Jingles　was　a　supernatural　visitation；　and　if　I　have　given　you　that　idea；　I'm　sorry；　but　I　have　never　doubted　that　he　was　a　genius　of　his　kind。　
Delacroix　bent　over　and　rolled　the　threadless　spool　across　the　floor　of　his　cell。　It　went　easily；　like　a　pair　of　wheels　connected　by　an　axle。　The　mouse　was　out　of　his　box　in　a　flash　and　across　the　floor　after　it；　like　a　dog　chasing　after　a　stick。　I　exclaimed　with　surprise；　and　Delacroix　grinned。　
The　spool　hit　the　wall　and　rebounded。　Mr。　Jingles　went　around　it　and　pushed　it　back　to　the　bunk；　switching　from　one　end　of　the　spool　to　the　other　whenever　it　looked　like　it　was　going　to　veer　offcourse。　He　pushed　the　spool　until　it　hit　Delacroix's　foot。　Then　he　looked　up　at　him　for　a　moment；　as　if　to　make　sure　Delacroix　had　no　more　immediate　tasks　for　him　（a　few　arithmetic　problems　to　solve；　perhaps；　or　some　Latin　to　parse）。　Apparently　satisfied　on　this　score；　Mr。　Jingles　went　back　to　the　cigar　box　and　settled　down　in　it　again。　
〃You　taught　him　that；〃　I　said。　
〃Yessir；　Boss　Edgebe；〃　Delacroix　said；　his　smile　only　slightly　dissembling。　〃He　fetch　it　every　time。　Smart　as　hell；　ain't　he？〃　
〃And　the　spool？〃　I　asked。　〃How　did　you　know　to　fetch　that　for　him；　Eddie？〃　
〃He　whisper　in　my　ear　that　he　want　it；〃　Delacroix　said　serenely。　〃Same　as　he　whisper　his　name。〃　
Delacroix　showed　all　the　other　guys　his　mouse's　trick　。。。　all　except　Percy。　To　Delacroix；　it　didn't　matter　that　Percy　had　suggested　the　cigar　box　and　procured　the　cotton　with　which　to　line　it。　Delacroix　was　like　some　dogs：　kick　them　once　and　they　never　trust　you　again；　no　matter　how　nice　you　are　to　them。　
I　can　hear　Delacroix　now；　yelling；　Hey；　you　guys！　e　and　see　what　Mr。　Jingles　can　do！　And　them　going　down　in　a　bluesuit　cluster　…　Brutal；　Harry；　Dean；　even　Bill　Dodge。　All　of　them　had　been　properly　amazed；　too；　the　same　as　I　had　been。　
Three　or　four　days　after　Mr。　Jingles　started　doing　the　trick　with　the　spool；　Harry　Terwilliger　rummaged　through　the　arts　and　crafts　stuff　we　kept　in　the　restraint　room；　found　the　Crayolas；　and　brought　them　to　Delacroix　with　a　smile　that　was　almost　embarrassed。　〃I　thought　you　might　like　to　make　that　spool　different　colors；〃　he　said。　〃Then　your　little　pal'd　be　like　a　circus　mouse；　or　something。〃　
〃A　circus　mouse！〃　Delacroix　said；　looking　pletely；　rapturously　happy。　I　suppose　he　was　pletely　happy；　maybe　for　the　first　time　in　his　whole　miserable　life。　〃That　just　what　he　is；　too！　A　circus　mouse！　When　I　get　outta　here；　he　gonna　make　me　rich；　like　inna　circus！　You　see　if　he　don't。〃　
Percy　Wetmore　would　no　doubt　have　pointed　out　to　Delacroix　that　when　he　left　Cold　Mountain；　he'd　be　riding　in　an　ambulance　that　didn't　need　to　run　its　light　or　siren；　but　Harry　knew　better。　He　just　told　Delacroix　to　make　the　spool　as　colorful　as　he　could　as　quick　as　he　could；　because　he'd　have　to　take　the　crayons　back　after　dinner。　
Del　made　it　colorful；　all　right。　When　he　was　done；　one　end　of　the　spool　was　yellow；　the　other　end　was　green；　and　the　drum　in　the　middle　was　firehouse　red。　We　got　used　to　hearing　Delacroix　trumpet；　〃Maintenant；　m'sieurs　et　mesdames！　Le　cirque　presentement　le　mous'　amusant　et　amazeant！〃　That　wasn't　exactly　it；　but　it　gives　you　an　idea　of　that　stewpot　French　of　his。　Then　he'd　make　this　sound　way　down　in　his　throat　…　I　think　it　was　supposed　to　represent　a　drumroll　…　and　fling　the　spool。　Mr。　Jingles　would　be　after　it　in　a　flash；　either　nosing　it　back　or　rolling　it　with　his　paws。　That　second　way　really　was　something　you　would　have　paid　to　see　in　a　circus；　I　think。　Delacroix　and　his　mouse　and　his　mouse's　brightly　colored　spool　were　our　chief　amusements　at　the　time　that　John　Coffey　came　into　our　care　and　custody；　and　that　was　the　way　things　remained　for　awhile。　Then　my　urinary　infection；　which　had　lain　still　for　awhile；　came　back；　and　William　Wharton　arrived；　and　all　hell　broke　loose。　
10。　
The　dates　have　mostly　slipped　out　of　my　head。　I　suppose　I　could　have　my　granddaughter；　Danielle；　look　some　of　them　out　of　the　old　newspaper　files；　but　what　would　be　the　point？　The　most　important　of　them；　like　the　day　we　came　down　to　Delacroix's　cell　and　found　the　mouse　sitting　on　his　shoulder；　or　the　day　William　Wharton　came　on　the　block　and　almost　killed　Dean　Stanton；　would　not　be　in　the　papers；　anyway。　Ma