〃Hey！〃 I cried。 〃Get your goddam hand………〃
A jolt slammed through me then； a big painless whack of something。 It made me jerk on the cot and bow my back； made me think of Old Toot shouting that he was frying； he was frying； he was a done tom turkey。 There was no heat； no feeling of electricity； but for a moment the color seemed to jump out of everything； as if the world had been somehoade to sweat。 I could see every pore on john Coffey's face； I could see every bloodshot snap in his haunted eyes； I could see a tiny healing scrape on his chin。 I was aware that my fingers were hooked down into claws on thin air； and that my feet were drumming on the floor of Coffey's cell。
Then it was over。 So was my urinary infection。 Both the heat and the miserable throbbing pain were gone from my crotch； and the fever was likewise gone from my head。 I could still feel the sweat it had drawn out of my skin； and I could smell it； but it was gone； all right。
〃What's going on？〃 Delacroix called shrilly。 His voice still came from far away； but when John Coffey bent forward； breaking eye…contact with me； the little Cajun's voice suddenly came clear。 It was as if someone had pulled wads of cotton or a pair of shooters' plugs out of my ears。 〃What's he doing to you？〃
I didn't answer。 Coffey was bent forward over his own lap with his face working and his throat bulging。 His eyes were bulging； too。 He looked like a man with a chicken bone caught in his throat。
〃Jo