Зеленая миля

Chapter 4

           IgotsomedirectionsoutadirtroadsoruttedandnarrowIjustaboutdidn’tdaretakemyFordupit,andthereIfoundmyman.HammersmithhadwrittenmostofthestoriesontheCoffeytrial,anditwasfromhimIfoundoutmostofthedetailsaboutthebriefmanhuntthathadnettedCoffeyinthefirstplace.ThedetailstheIntelligencerconsideredtoogruesometoprintiswhatImean,ofcourse.

           Mrs.Hammersmithwasayoungwomanwithatired,prettyfaceandhandsredfromlyesoap.Shedidn’taskmybusiness,justledmethroughasmallhousefragrantwiththesmellofbakingandontothebackporch,whereherhusbandsatwithabottleofpopinhishandandanunopenedcopyofLibertymagazineonhislap.Therewasasmall,slopingbackyard;atthefootofit,twolittleonesweresquabblingandlaughingoveraswing.Fromtheporch,itwasimpossibletotelltheirsexes,butIthoughttheywereboyandgirl.Maybeeventwins,whichcastaninterestingsortoflightontheirfather’spart,peripheralasithadbeen,intheCoffeytrial.Nearerathand,setlikeanislandinthemiddleofaturdstuddedpatchofbare,beatup-lookingground,wasadoghouse.NosignofFido;itwasanotherunseasonablyhotday,andIguessedhewasprobablyinside,snoozing.

           "Burt,yew-allgotyouacump’ny,"Mrs.Hammersmithsaid.

           "Allright,"hesaid.Heglancedatme,glancedathiswife,thenlookedbackathiskids,whichwaswherehisheartobviouslylay.

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