Chapter 3

           Thatwaslogicalbutwrong.Themousewasbacktheverynextevening,whichjusthappenedtobethefirstofPercyWetmore’stwonightsoffbeforeheslidovertothegraveyardshift.

           SteamboatWillyshoweduparoundseveno’clock.Iwastheretoseehisreappearance;sowasDean.HarryTerwilliger,too.Harrywasonthedesk.Iwastechnicallyondays,buthadstuckaroundtospendanextrahourwithTheChief,whosetimewasgettingclosebythen.Bitterbuckwasstoicalontheoutside,inthetraditionofhistribe,butIcouldseehisfearoftheendgrowinginsidehimlikeapoisonflower.Sowetalked.Youcouldtalktotheminthedaytimebutitwasn’tsogood,withtheshoutsandconversation(nottomentiontheoccasionalfist-fight)comingfromtheexerciseyard,thechonk-chonk-chonkofthestampingmachinesintheplate-shop,theoccasionalyellofaguardforsomeonetoputdownthatpickorgrabupthathoeorjusttogetyourassoverhere,Harvey.Afterfouritgotalittlebetter,andaftersixitgotbetterstill.Sixtoeightwastheoptimumtime.Afterthatyoucouldseethelongthoughtsstartingtostealovertheirmindsagainintheireyesyoucouldseeit,likeafternoonshadowsanditwasbesttostop.Theystillheardwhatyouweresaying,butitnolongermadesensetothem.

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