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scious Wharton's armpits and dragged him out from under his bunk。 Wharton was coughing and making a glub…glub sound。 Blood was dribbling into his dazed eyes from above his brows； where Brutal's stick had popped the skin open in a line。
We had the straitjacket business down to a science； did Brutus Howell and me； we'd practiced it like a couple of vaudeville hoofers working up a new dance routine。 Every now and then； that practice paid off。 Now； for instance。 Brutal sat Wharton up and held out his arms toward me the way a kid might hold out the arms of a Raggedy Andy doll。 Awareness was just starting to seep back into Wharton's eyes； the knowledge that if he didn't start fighting right away； it was going to be too late； but the lines were still down between his brain and his muscles； and before he could repair them； I had rammed the sleeves of the coat up his arms and Brutal was doing the buckles up the back。 While he took care of that； I grabbed the cuff…straps； pulled Wharton's arms around his sides； and linked his wrists together with another canvas strap。 He ended up looking like he was hugging himself。
〃Goddam you； big dummy； how dey doin widdim？〃 Delacroix screamed。 I heard Mr。 Jingles squeaking； as if he wanted to know； too。
Percy arrived； his shirt wet and sticking to him from his struggles with the watermain； his face glowing with excitement。 Dean came along behind him； wearing a bracelet of purplish bruise around his throat and looking a lot less
