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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 y
