第19部分(第6/7 頁)

ressed　in　a　cotton　hospital　johnny　and　cheap　felt　slippers　when　they　first　met　him　on　the　second　floor　of　the　General　Hospital；　a　scrawny　man　with　a　narrow；　pimply　face　and　a　lot　of　long；　tangly　blond　hair。　His　ass；　also　narrow　and　also　covered　with　pimples；　stuck　out　the　back　of　the　johnny。　That　was　the　part　of　him　Harry　and　the　others　saw　first；　because　Wharton　was　standing　at　the　window　and　looking　out　at　the　parking　lot　when　they　came　in。　He　didn't　turn　but　just　stood　there；　holding　the　curtains　back　with　one　hand；　silent　as　a　doll　while　Harry　bitched　at　the　county　sheriff　about　being　too　lazy　to　get　Wharton　into　his　prison　blues　and　the　county　sheriff　lectured　…　as　every　county　official　I've　ever　met　seems　bound　to　do　…　about　what　was　his　job　and　what　was　not。

When　Harry　got　tired　of　that　part　（I　doubt　it　took　him　long）；　he　told　Wharton　to　turn　around。　Wharton　did。　He　looked；　Dean　told　us　in　his　raspy　bark　of　a　half…choked　voice；　like　any　one　of　a　thousand　backcountry　stampeders　who　had　wound　their　way　through　Cold　Mountain　during　our　years　there。　Boil　that　look　down　and　what　you　got　was　a　dullard　with　a　mean　steak。　Sometimes　you　also　discovered　a　yellow　streak　in　them；　once　their　backs　were　to　the　wall；　but　more　often　there　was　nothing　there　but　fight　and　mean　and　then　more　fight　and　more　mean。　There　are　people　who　see　nobility　in　folks　like　Billy　Wharton；　but　I　am　not　one　of　them。　A　rat　will　fight；　too；　if　it　is　cornered。　This　man's　face　seemed　to　have　no　more　personality　than　his　acne…studded　backside；　Dean　told　us。　His　jaw　was　slack；　his　eyes　distant；　his　shoulders　slumped；　his　hands　dangling。　He　looked　shot　up　with　morphine；　all　right；　every　bit　as　coo…coo　as　any　dopefiend　any　of　them　had　ever　seen。

At　this；　Percy　gave　another　of　his　sullen　nods。