scious Wharton's armpits and dragged him out from under his bunk。 Wharton was coughing and making a glub…glub sound。 Blood was dribbling into his dazed eyes from above his brows; where Brutal's stick had popped the skin open in a line。
We had the straitjacket business down to a science; did Brutus Howell and me; we'd practiced it like a couple of vaudeville hoofers working up a new dance routine。 Every now and then; that practice paid off。 Now; for instance。 Brutal sat Wharton up and held out his arms toward me the way a kid might hold out the arms of a Raggedy Andy doll。 Awareness was just starting to seep back into Wharton's eyes; the knowledge that if he didn't start fighting right away; it was going to be too late; but the lines were still down between his brain and his muscles; and before he could repair them; I had rammed the sleeves of the coat up his arms and Brutal was doing the buckles up the back。 While he took care of that; I grabbed the cuff…straps; pulled Wharton's arms around his sides; and linked his wrists together with another canvas strap。 He ended up looking like he was hugging himself。
〃Goddam you; big dummy; how dey doin widdim?〃 Delacroix screamed。 I heard Mr。 Jingles squeaking; as if he wanted to know; too。
Percy arrived; his shirt wet and sticking to him from his struggles with the watermain; his face glowing with excitement。 Dean came along behind him; wearing a bracelet of purplish bruise around his throat and looking a lot less