t　served　him　as　posure。　He　brushed　his　hair　back　from　his　forehead　with　his　hands　…　soft　and　white　and　small；　the　hands　of　a　girl　in　her　early　teens；　you　would　have　thought　…　and　then　approached　the　cell。　Delacroix　saw　him；　and　he　cringed　back　even　farther　on　his　bunk；　gibbering　in　a　mixture　of　English　and　stewpot　French。

〃I　ain't　done　with　you；　Pierre；〃　he　said；　then　jumped　as　one　of　Brutal's　huge　hands　fell　on　his　shoulder。

〃Yes　you　are；〃　Brutal　said。　〃Now　go　on。　Get　in　the　breeze！〃

〃You　don't　scare　me；　you　know；〃　Percy　said。　〃Not　a　bit！〃　His　eyes　shifted　to　me。　〃Either　of　you。〃　But　we　did。　You　could　see　that　in　his　eyes　as　clear　as　day；　and　it　made　him　even　more　dangerous。　A　guy　like　Percy　doesn't　even　know　himself　what　he　means　to　do　from　minute　to　minute　and　second　to　second。

What　he　did　right　then　was　turn　away　from　us　and　go　walking　up　the　corridor　in　long；　arrogant　strides。　He　had　shown　the　world　what　happened　when　scrawny；　half…bald　little　Frenchmen　tried　to　cop　his　joint；　by　God；　and　he　was　leaving　the　field　a　victor。

I　went　through　my　set　speech；　all　about　how　we　had　the　radio　…　Make　Believe　Ballroom　and　Our　Gal　Sunday；　and　how　we'd　treat　him　jake　if　he　did　the　same　for　us。　That　little　homily　was　not　what　you'd　call　one　of　my　great　successes。　He　cried　all　the　way　through　it；　sitting　huddled　up　at　the　foot　of　his　bunk；　as　far　from　me　as　he　could　get　without　actually　fading　into　the　corner。　He　cringed　every　time　I　moved；　and　I　don't