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nd then he sat up in front of it like a dog doing a trick; grabbed it; and pulled the bread apart to get at the meat。 He did it as deliberately and knowingly as a man tucking into a good roast…beef dinner in his favorite restaurant。 I never saw an animal eat like that; not even a well…trained house dog。 And all the while he was eating; his eyes never left us。
〃Either one smart mouse or hungry as hell;〃 a new voice said。 It was Bitterbuck。 He had awakened and now stood at the bars of his cell; naked except for a pair of saggy…seated boxer shorts。 A home…rolled cigarette poked out from between the second and third knuckles of his right hand; and his iron…gray hair lay over his shoulders … once probably muscular but now beginning to soften … in a pair of braids。
〃You got any Injun wisdom about micies; Chief?〃 Brutal asked; watching the mouse eat。 We were all pretty fetched by the neat way it held the bit of corned beef in its forepaws; occasionally turning it or glancing at it; as if in admiration and appreciation。
〃Naw;〃 Bitterbuck said。 〃Knowed a brave once had a pair of what he claimed were mouse…skin gloves; but I didn't believe it!〃 Then he laughed; as if the whole thing was a joke; and left the bars。 We heard the bunk creak as he lay down again。
That seemed to be the mouse's signal to go。 It finished up what it was holding; sniffed at what was left (mostly bread with yellow mustard soaking into it); and then looked back at us; as if it wanted to
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