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That mouse。 That goddam mouse。 Delacroix loved it； but Percy Wetmore sure didn't。
Percy hated it from the first。
2。
The mouse came back just about three days after Percy had chased it down the Green Mile that first time。 Dean Stanton and Bill Dodge were talking politics； which meant in those days； they were talking Roosevelt and Hoover … Herbert； not J。 Edgar。 They were eating Ritz crackers from a box Dean had purchased from old Toot…Toot an hour or so before。 Percy was standing in the office doorway； practicing quick draws with the baton he loved so much； as he listened。 He'd pull it out of that ridiculous handtooled holster he'd gotten somewhere； then twirl it （or try to； most times he would have dropped it if not for the rawhide loop he kept on his wrist）； then re…holster it。 I was off that night； but got the full report from Dean the following evening。
The mouse came up the Green Mile just as it had before； hopping along； then stopping and seeming to check the empty cells。 After a bit of that it would hop on； undiscouraged； as if it had known all along it would be a long search； and it was up to that。
The President was awake this time； standing at his cell door。 That guy was a piece of work； managing to look natty even in his prison blues。 We knew just by the way he looked that he wasn't made for Old Sparky； and we were right … less than a week after Percy's second run at that mouse； The Pres's sentence was muted to life and he joined the general population。
〃Say！〃 he called。 ''There's a mouse in here！ What kind of a joint are you guys running； anyway？〃 He was kind of laughing； but Dean said he also sounded kind of outraged； as if even a murder rap hadn't been quite enough to knock the Kiwanis out of his soul。 He had bee
