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f at home； sick as a dog； shivering in bed with the stink of sulfa running out of my pores？ Perhaps； I was maybe supposed to be here instead of home in case Wild Bill Wharton decided to kick up more dickens； or to make sure Percy Wetmore didn't get up to some foolish and potentially destructive piece of fuckery All right； then。 So be it。 I would keep my eyes open … and my mouth shut； especially about miracle cures。
No one y looking and sounding better； I'd been telling the world I was getting better； and until that very day I'd honestly believed it。 I had even told Warden Moores that I was on the mend。 Delacroix had seen something； but I thought he would keep his mouth shut； too （probably afraid John Coffey would throw a spell on him if he didn't）。 As for Coffey himself； he'd probably already forgotten it。 He was nothing but a conduit； after all； and there isn't a culvert in the world that remembers the water that flowed through it once the rain has stopped。 So I resolved to keep my mouth pletely shut on the subject； with never an idea of how soon I'd be telling the story； or who I'd be telling it to。
But I was curious about my big boy； and there's no sense not admitting it。 After what had happened to me there in his cell； I was more curious than ever。
4。
Before leaving that night； I arranged with Brutal to cover for me the next day； should I e in a little late； and when I got up the following morning； I set out for Tefton； down in Trapingus County
