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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
