第47部分(第2/8 頁)

wasn't　plicated　by　much　in　the　way　of　thought。　He　got　up　in　back。　I　followed　him；　went　to　the　front　of　the　truckbed；　and　banged　on　top　of　the　cab。　Harry　ground　the　transmission　into　first　and　the　truck　pulled　out　of　the　little　bower　he　had　hidden　it　in；　shaking　and　juddering。

John　Coffey　stood　spread…legged　in　the　middle　of　the　truckbed　head　cocked　up　at　the　stars　again；　smiling　broadly；　unmindful　of　the　boughs　that　whipped　at　him　as　Harry　turned　his　truck　toward　the　highway。　〃Look；　boss！〃　he　cried　in　a　low；　rapturous　voice；　pointing　up　into　the　black　night。　〃It's　Cassie；　the　lady　in　the　rockin　chair！〃

He　was　right；　I　could　see　her　in　the　lane　of　stars　between　the　dark　bulk　of　the　passing　trees。　But　it　wasn't　Cassiopeia　I　thought　of　when　he　spoke　of　the　lady　in　the　rocking　chair；　it　was　Melinda　Moores。

〃I　see　her；　John；〃　I　said；　and　tugged　on　his　arm。　〃But　you　have　to　sit　down　now；　all　right？〃

He　sat　with　his　back　against　the　cab；　never　taking　his　eyes　off　the　night　sky。　On　his　face　was　a　look　of　sublime　unthinking　happiness。　The　Green　Mile　fell　farther　behind　us　with　each　revolution　of　the　Farmall's　bald　tires；　and　for　the　time　being；　at　least；　the　seemingly　endless　flow　of　John　Coffey's　tears　had　stopped。

7。

It　was　twenty…five　miles　to　Hal　Moores's　house　on　Chimney　Ridge；　and　in　Harry　Terwilliger's　slow　and　rattly　farm　truck；　the　trip　took　over　an　hour。　It　was　an　eerie　ride；　and　although　it　seems　to　me　now　that　every　moment　of　it　is