eagerly.

crop

“Sure, we’d have a little house an’ a room to ourself. Little fat iron stove, an’in the winter we’d keep a fire goin’ in it. It ain’t enough land so we’d have towork too hard.

“Sure,” said George. “All kin’s a vegetables in the garden, and if we want alittle whisky we can sell a few eggs or something, or some milk. We’d jus’ livethere. We’d belong there.

few

George’s hands stopped working with the cards. His voice was growingwarmer. “An’ we could have a few pigs. I could build a smoke house like theone gran’pa had, an’ when we kill a pig we can smoke the bacon and the hams,and make sausage an’ all like that. An’ when the salmon run up river we couldcatch a hundred of ‘em an’ salt ‘em down or smoke ‘em. We could have themfor breakfast. They ain’t nothing so nice as smoked salmon. When the fruitcome in we could can it—and tomatoes, they’re easy to can. Ever’ Sunday we’dkill a chicken or a rabbit. Maybe we’d have a cow or a goat, and the cream is soGod damn thick you got to cut it with a knife and take it out with a spoon.”

“Got a little win’mill. Got a little shackon it, an’ a chicken run. Got a kitchen, orchard, cherries, apples, peaches, ‘cots,nuts, got a few berries.

tell

till

“I don’t know”, said George. “We gotta get a big stake together. I know alittle place we can get cheap, but they ain’t givin’ it away.”Old Candy turned slowly over. His eyes were wide open. He watched Georgecarefully.

piled

Lennie followed his words admiringly, and moved his lips a little to keep up.George continued, “You remember Andy Cushman, Lennie? Went to grammarschool?”

good

“Sure. You seen him in the barn, an’ he tol’ you not to pet the pups somuch.”

Lennie reached for a face card and studied it, then turned it upside down andstudied it. “Both ends the same,” he said. “George, why is it both ends thesame?”

come

“O.K.,” said George. “I guess them guys ain’t gonna see no fight. If there’sany fightin’, Lennie, you keep out of it.”

fuss

Curley jumped out the door and banged it after him.Whit stood up. “I guess maybe I’d like to see this,” he said. “Curley’s justspoilin’ or he wouldn’t start for Slim. An’ Curley’s handy, God damn handy.Got in the finals for the Golden Gloves.

round

“Well, a guy got to have some fun sometime,” said Whit.The door opened and Lennie and Carlson came in together. Lennie crept tohis bunk and sat down, trying not to attract attention. Carlson reached under hisbunk and brought out his bag. He didn’t look at old Candy, who still faced thewall. Carlson found a little cleaning rod in the bag and a can of oil. He laid themon his bed and then brought out the pistol, took out the magazine and snappedthe loaded shell from the chamber. Then he fell to cleaning the barrel with thelittle rod. When the ejector snapped, Candy turned over and looked for amoment at the gun before he turned back to the wall again.

That’s Clara’s house she’s talkin’ about. An’ Susy says, ‘I knowwhat you boys want,’ she says. ‘My girls is clean,’ she says, ‘an’ there ain’t nowater in my whisky,’ she says. ‘If any you guys wanta look at a kewpie dolllamp an’ take your own chance gettin’ burned, why you know where to go.’

bits.

Whit said, “I see what you mean. No, they ain’t been nothing yet. Curley’sgot yella-jackets in his drawers, but that’s all so far. Ever’ time the guys isaround she shows up. She’s lookin’ for Curley, or she thought she lef’somethin’ layin’ around and she’s lookin’ for it. Seems like she can’t keep awayfrom guys. An’ Curley’s pants is just crawlin’ with ants, but they ain’t nothingcome of it yet.”George said, “She’s gonna make a mess. They’s gonna be a bad mess abouther. She’s a jail bait all set on the trigger. That Curley got his work cut out forhim. Ranch with a bunch of guys on it ain’t no place for a girl, specially likeher.”Whit said, “If you got idears, you oughtta come in town with us guys tomorranight.”

impressively.

George looked up. “If that crazy bastard’s foolin’ around too much, jus’ kickhim out, Slim.”Slim followed the stable buck out of the room.George dealt and Whit picked up his cards and examined them. “Seen thenew kid yet?” he asked.

won’t

Crooks.

Slim took his eyes from old Candy. “Huh? Oh! Hello, Crooks. What’s’ amatter?”

gonna

“I don’t see how you figure,” said George.Whit laughed again. “You do if you been around these big ranches much.Guy that wants to look over a ranch comes in Sat’day afternoon. He getsSat’day night supper an’ three meals on Sunday, and he can quit Mondaymornin’ after breakfast without turning his hand. But you come to work Fridaynoon. You got to put in a day an’ a half no matter how you figure.”

noisily

I was feelin’ pretty smart. I turns to Lennie and says,‘Jump in.’ An’ he jumps. Couldn’t swim a stroke. He damn near drownedbefore we could get him. An’ he was so damn nice to me for pullin’ him out.Clean forgot I told him to jump in. Well, I ain’t done nothing like that no more.”“He’s a nice fella,” said Slim. “Guy don’t need no sense to be a nice fella.Seems to me sometimes it jus’ works the other way around. Take a real smartguy and he ain’t hardly ever a nice fella.”

George looked over at Slim and saw the calm, Godlike eyes fastened on him.“Funny,” said George. “I used to have a hell of a lot of fun with ‘im. Used toplay jokes on ‘im ‘cause he was too dumb to take care of ‘imself. But he wastoo dumb even to know he had a joke played on him. I had fun.

If I was bright, if I was even a little bit smart, I’d have my own littleplace, an’ I’d be bringin’ in my own crops, ‘stead of doin’ all the work and notgetting what comes up outa the ground.” George fell silent. He wanted to talk.Slim neither encouraged nor discouraged him. He just sat back quiet andreceptive.

I hardly neverseen two guys travel together. You know how the hands are, they just come inand get their bunk and work a month, and then they quit and go out alone.Never seem to give a damn about nobody. It jus’ seems kinda funny a cuckoolike him and a smart little guy like you travelin’ together.”

“Say, you sure was right about him.Maybe he ain’t bright, but I never seen such a worker. He damn near killed hispartner buckin’ barley. There ain’t nobody can keep up with him. Godawmighty, I never seen such a strong guy.”

The boss deliberately put the little book in his pocket. He hooked his thumbsin his belt and squinted one eye nearly closed. “Say—what you sellin’?”“Huh?”

“You, too?” to Lennie.“Yeah, him too,” said George.The boss pointed a playful finger at Lennie. “He ain’t much of a talker, ishe?”“No, he ain’t, but he’s sure a hell of a good worker. Strong as a bull.”Lennie smiled to himself. “Strong as a bull,” he repeated.George scowled at him, and Lennie dropped his head in shame at havingforgotten.The boss said suddenly, “Listen, Small!” Lennie raised his head. “What canyou do?”In a panic, Lennie looked at George for help. “He can do anything you tellhim,” said George. “He’s a good skinner. He can rassel grain bags, drive acultivator. He can do anything. Just give him a try.”

The boss squinted his eyes. “Well, I had to send out the grain teams shorttwo buckers. Won’t do any good to go out now till after dinner.” He pulled histime book out of his pocket and opened it where a pencil was stuck between theleaves. George scowled meaningfully at Lennie, and Lennie nodded to showthat he understood. The boss licked his pencil. “What’s your name?”

George stepped over and threw his blankets down on the burlap sack of strawthat was a mattress. He looked into his box shelf and then picked a small yellowcan from it. “Say. What the hell’s this?”“I don’t know,” said the old man.

“What kind of a guy is the boss?” George asked.“Well, he’s a pretty nice fella. Gets pretty mad sometimes, but he’s prettynice. Tell ya what—know what he done Christmas? Brang a gallon of whiskyright in here and says, ‘Drink hearty, boys. Christmas comes but once a year.’”“The hell he did! Whole gallon?”

Yeah. Nice fella too. Got a crooked back where a horse kicked him. Theboss gives him hell when he’s mad. But the stable buck don’t give a damn aboutthat. He reads a lot. Got books in his room.”

“The boss was expectin’ you last night,” the old man said. “He was sore ashell when you wasn’t here to go out this morning.” He pointed with his rightarm, and out of the sleeve came a round stick-like wrist, but no hand. “You canhave them two beds there,” he said, indicating two bunks near the stove.

“I’d find things, George. I don’t need no nice food with ketchup. I’d lay outin the sun and nobody’d hurt me. An’ if I foun’ a mouse, I could keep it.Nobody’d take it away from me.”George looked quickly and searchingly at him. “I been mean, ain’t I?”“If you don’ want me I can go off in the hills an’ find a cave. I can go awayany time.”

“I was only foolin’, George. I don’t want no ketchup. I wouldn’t eat noketchup if it was right here beside me.”“If it was here, you could have some.”“But I wouldn’t eat none, George. I’d leave it all for you. You could coveryour beans with it and I wouldn’t touch none of it.”George still stared morosely at the fire. “When I think of the swell time Icould have without you, I go nuts. I never get no peace.”Lennie still knelt. He looked off into the darkness across the river. “George,you want I should go away and leave you alone?”

“You gonna get that wood?” George demanded. “There’s plenty right upagainst the back of that sycamore. Floodwater wood. Now you get it.”Lennie went behind the tree and brought out a litter of dried leaves andtwigs. He threw them in a heap on the old ash pile and went back for more andmore. It was almost night now. A dove’s wings whistled over the water. Georgewalked to the fire pile and lighted the dry leaves. The flame cracked up amongthe twigs and fell to work. George undid his bindle and brought out three cansof beans. He stood them about the fire, close in against the blaze, but not quitetouching the flame.“There’s enough beans for four men,” George said.Lennie watched him from over the fire. He said patiently, “I like ‘em withketchup.”

George stood up and threw the mouse as far as he could into the darkeningbrush, and then he stepped to the pool and washed his hands. “You crazy fool.Don’t you think I could see your feet was wet where you went acrost the river toget it?” He heard Lennie’s whimpering cry and wheeled about. “Blubberin’ likea baby! Jesus Christ! A big guy like you.” Lennie’s lip quivered and tearsstarted in his eyes. “Aw, Lennie!” George put his hand on Lennie’s shoulder. “Iain’t takin’ it away jus’ for meanness. That mouse ain’t fresh, Lennie; andbesides, you’ve broke it pettin’ it. You get another mouse that’s fresh and I’ll letyou keep it a little while.”Lennie sat down on the ground and hung his head dejectedly. “I don’t knowwhere there is no other mouse. I remember a lady used to give ‘em to me—ever’one she got. But that lady ain’t here.”George scoffed. “Lady, huh? Don’t even remember who that lady was. Thatwas your own Aunt Clara. An’ she stopped givin’ ‘em to ya. You always killed‘em.”Lennie looked sadly up at him. “They was so little,” he said, apologetically.“I’d pet ‘em, and pretty soon they bit my fingers and I pinched their heads alittle and then they was dead—because they was so little.“I wisht we’d get the rabbits pretty soon, George. They ain’t so little.”“The hell with the rabbits. An’ you ain’t to be trusted with no live mice.Your Aunt Clara give you a rubber mouse and you wouldn’t have nothing to dowith it.”“It

George stood up and threw the mouse as far as he could into the darkeningbrush, and then he stepped to the pool and washed his hands. “You crazy fool.Don’t you think I could see your feet was wet where you went acrost the river toget it?” He heard Lennie’s whimpering cry and wheeled about. “Blubberin’ likea baby! Jesus Christ! A big guy like you.” Lennie’s lip quivered and tearsstarted in his eyes. “Aw, Lennie!” George put his hand on Lennie’s shoulder. “Iain’t takin’ it away jus’ for meanness. That mouse ain’t fresh, Lennie; andbesides, you’ve broke it pettin’ it. You get another mouse that’s fresh and I’ll letyou keep it a little while.”

Lennie said, “I like beans with ketchup.”“Well, we ain’t got no ketchup. You go get wood. An’ don’t you fool around.It’ll be dark before long.”Lennie lumbered to his feet and disappeared in the brush. George lay wherehe was and whistled softly to himself. There were sounds of splashings downthe river in the direction Lennie had taken. George stopped whistling andlistened. “Poor bastard,” he said softly, and then went on whistling again.In a moment Lennie came crashing back through the brush. He carried onesmall willow stick in his hand. George sat up. “Awright,” he said brusquely.“Gi’me that mouse!”

The first man stopped short in the clearing, and the follower nearly ran overhim. He took off his hat and wiped the sweat-band with his forefinger andsnapped the moisture off. His huge companion dropped his blankets and flunghimself down and drank from the surface of the green pool; drank with longgulps, snorting into the water like a horse. The small man stepped nervouslybeside him

George knelt beside the pool and drank from his hand with quick scoops.“Tastes all right,” he admitted. “Don’t really seem to be running, though. Younever oughta drink water when it ain’t running, Lennie,” he said hopelessly.“You’d drink out of a gutter if you was thirsty.” He threw a scoop of water intohis face and rubbed it about with his hand, under his chin and around the backof his neck. Then he replaced his hat, pushed himself back from the river, drewup his knees and embraced them. Lennie, who had been watching, imitatedGeorge exactly. He pushed himself back, drew up his knees, embraced them,looked over to George to see whether he had it just right. He pulled his hatdown a little more over his eyes, the way George’s hat was.George stared morosely at the water.

The water is warm too, for it has slippedtwinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool.On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes curve up to the strong androcky Gabilan Mountains, but on the valley side the water is lined with trees—willows fresh and green with every spring, carrying in their lower leaf juncturesthe debris of the winter’s flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white,recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool. On the sandy bank underthe trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering ifhe runs among them. Rabbits come out of the brush to sit on the sand in theevening, and the damp flats are covered with the night tracks of ‘coons, andwith the spreadpads of dogs from the ranches, and with the split-wedge tracks ofdeer that come to drink in the dark.There is a path through the willows and among the sycamores, a path beatenhard by boys coming down from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, andbeaten hard by tramps who come wearily down from the highway in the eveningto jungle-up near water. In front of the low horizontal limb of a giant sycamorethere is an ash pile made by many fires; the limb is worn smooth by men whohave sat on it.E

Lennie imitated him, raising his head to see whether he was doing it right.“God, you’re a lot of trouble,” said George. “I could get along so easy and sonice if I didn’t have you on my tail. I could live so easy and maybe have a girl.”For a moment Lennie lay quiet, and then he said hopefully, “We gonna workon a ranch, George.”

Lennie’s closed hand slowly obeyed. George took the mouse and threw itacross the pool to the other side, among the brush. “What you want of a deadmouse, anyways?”“I could pet it with my thumb while we walked along,” said Lennie.“Well, you ain’t petting no mice while you walk with me. You rememberwhere we’re goin’ now?”Lennie looked startled and then in embarrassment hid his face against hisknees. “I forgot again.”

Lennie continued to snort into the pool. The small man leaned over and shookhim by the shoulder. “Lennie. You gonna be sick like you was last night.”Lennie dipped his whole head under, hat and all, and then he sat up on thebank and his hat dripped down on his blue coat and ran down his back. “That’sgood,” he said. “You drink some, George. You take a good big drink.” Hesmiled happily