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d。 〃When we open this door tomorrow; he's gonna be just fine。 Take my word for it。〃

That's the way it was; too。 The man we took back to his cell the next night at nine was quiet; pallid; and seemingly chastened。 He walked with his head down; made no effort to attack anyone when the straitjacket came off; and only stared listlessly at me when I told him it would go just the same the next time; and he just had to ask himself how much time he wanted to spend pissing in his pants and eating baby…food a spoonful at a time。

〃I'll be good; boss; I learnt my lesson;〃 he whispered in a humble little voice as we put him back in his cell。 Brutal looked at me and winked。

Late the next day; William Wharton; who was Billy the Kid to himself and never that bushwhacking John Law Wild Bill Hickok; bought a moon…pie from Old Toot…Toot。 Wharton had been expressly forbidden any such merce; but the afternoon crew was posed of floaters; as I think I have said; and the deal went down。 Toot himself undoubtedly knew better; but to him the snack…wagon was always a case of a nickel is a nickel; a dime is a dime; I'd sing another chorus but I don't have the time。

That night; when Brutal ran his check…round; Wharton was standing at the door of his cell。 He waited until Brutal looked up at him; then slammed the heels of his hands into his bulging cheeks and shot a thick and amazingly long stream of chocolate sludge into Brutal's face。 He had crammed the entire moon…pie into his trap; held it there until it liquefied; and then used it like chewing tobacco。

Wharton fell back on his bunk wearing a chocolate goatee; kicking his legs and screaming with laughter and pointing to Brutal; who was wearing a lot more than a goatee。 〃Li'l Black Sambo; yassuh; boss; yassuh; how

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