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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