but　not　in　a　panic　…　not　even　close　to　being　in　a　panic。　〃Don't　you　tell　Jack　to　stop；〃　he　said　in　a　low　voice。　〃Whatever　you　do；　don't　tell　him　that。　It's　too　late　to　stop。〃

At　first；　when　Del　began　to　scream；　the　witnesses　didn't　hear　him。　The　rain　on　the　tin　roof　had　swelled　to　a　roar；　and　the　thunder　was　damned　near　continuous。　But　those　of　us　on　the　platform　heard　him；　all　right　…　choked　howls　of　pain　from　beneath　the　smoking　mask；　sounds　an　animal　caught　and　mangled　in　a　hay…baler　might　make。

The　hum　from　the　cap　was　ragged　and　wild　now；　broken　by　bursts　of　what　sounded　like　radio　static。　Delacroix　began　to　slam　back　and　forth　in　the　chair　like　a　kid　doing　a　tantrum。　The　platform　shook；　and　he　hit　the　leather　restraining　belt　almost　hard　enough　to　pop　it。　The　current　was　also　twisting　him　from　side　to　side；　and　I　heard　the　crunching　snap　as　his　right　shoulder　either　broke　or　dislocated。　It　went　with　a　sound　like　someone　hitting　a　wooden　crate　with　a　sledgehammer。　The　crotch　of　his　pants；　no　more　than　a　blur　because　of　the　short　pistoning　strokes　of　his　legs；　darkened。　Then　he　began　to　squeal；　horrible　sounds；　high…pitched　and　ratlike；　that　were　audible　even　over　the　rushing　downpour。

〃What　the　hell's　happening　to　him？〃　someone　cried。

〃Are　those　clamps　going　to　hold？〃

〃Christ；　the　smell！　Phew！〃

Then；　one　of　the　two　women：　〃Is　this　normal？〃

Delacroix　snapped　forward；　dropped　back；　snapped　forward；　fell　back。　Percy　was　stari