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