Chapter 1
　　 few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling 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 and rocky 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 junctures the debris of the winter’s flooding; and sycamores with mottled, white, recumbent limbs and branches that arch over the pool. On the sandy bank under the trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering if he runs among them. Rabbits come out of the brush to sit on the sand in the evening, and the damp flats are covered with the night tracks of ‘coons, and with the spreadpads of dogs from the ranches, and with the split-wedge tracks of deer that come to drink in the dark.
　　There is a path through the willows and among the sycamores, a path beaten hard by boys coming down from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by tramps who come wearily down from the highway in the evening to jungle-up near water. In front of the low horizontal limb of a giant sycamore there is an ash pile made by many fires; the limb is worn smooth by men who have sat on it.
　　
　　Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray sculptured stones. And then from the direction of the state highway came the sound of footsteps on crisp sycamore leaves. The rabbits hurried noiselessly for cover. A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down river. For a moment the place was lifeless, and then two men emerged from the path and came into the opening by the green pool.
　　They had walked in single file down the path, and even in the open one stayed behind the other. Both were dressed in denim trousers and in denim coats with brass buttons. Both wore black, shapeless hats and both carried tight blanket rolls slung over their shoulders. The first man was small and quick, dark of face, with restless eyes and sharp, strong features. Every part of him was defined: small, strong hands, slender arms, a thin and bony nose. Behind him walked his opposite, a huge man, shapeless of face, with large, pale eyes, and wide, sloping shoulders; and he walked heavily, dragging his feet a little, the way a bear drags his paws. His arms did not swing at his sides, but hung loosely.
　　The first man stopped short in the clearing, and the follower nearly ran over him. He took off his hat and wiped the sweat-band with his forefinger and snapped the moisture off. His huge companion dropped his blankets and flung himself down and drank from the surface of the green pool; drank with long gulps, snorting into the water like a horse. The small man stepped nervously beside him.
　　“Lennie!” he said sharply. “Lennie, for God’ sakes don’t drink so much.” Lennie continued to snort into the pool. The small man leaned over and shook him 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 the bank and his hat dripped down on his blue coat and ran down his back. “That’s good,” he said. “You drink some, George. You take a good big drink.” He smiled happily.
　　George unslung his bindle and dropped it gently on the bank. “I ain’t sure it’s good water,” he said. “Looks kinda scummy.”
　　Lennie dabbled his big paw in the water and wiggled his fingers so the water arose in little splashes; rings widened across the pool to the other side and came back again. Lennie watched them go. “Look, George. Look what I done.”
　　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. You never 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 into his face and rubbed it about with his hand, under his chin and around the back of his neck. Then he replaced his hat, pushed himself back from the river, drew up his knees and embraced them. Lennie, who had been watching, imitated George 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 hat down a little more over his eyes, the way George’s hat was.
　　George stared morosely at the water. The rims of his eyes were red with sun glare. He said angrily, “We could just as well of rode clear to the ranch if that bastard bus driver knew what he was talkin’ about. ‘Jes’ a little stretch down the highway,’ he says. ‘Jes’ a little stretch.’ God damn near four miles, that’s what it was! Didn’t wanta stop at the ranch gate, that’s what. Too God damn lazy to pull up. Wonder he isn’t too damn good to stop in Soledad at all. Kicks us out and says ‘Jes’ a little stretch down the road.’ I bet it was more than four miles. Damn hot day.”
　　Lennie looked timidly over to him. “George?”
　　“Yeah, what ya want?”
　　“Where we goin’, George?”
　　The little man jerked down the brim of his hat and scowled over at Lennie. “So you forgot that awready, did you? I gotta tell you again, do I? Jesus Christ, you’re a crazy bastard!”
　　“I forgot,” Lennie said softly. “I tried not to forget. Honest to God I did, George.”
　　“O.K—O.K. I’ll tell ya again. I ain’t got nothing to do. Might jus’ as well spen’ all my time tellin’ you things and then you forget ‘em, and I tell you again.”
　　“Tried and tried,” said Lennie, “but it didn’t do no good. I remember about the rabbits, George.”
　　“The hell with the rabbits. That’s all you ever can remember is them rabbits. O.K.! Now you listen and this time you got to remember so we don’t get in no trouble. You remember settin’ in that gutter on Howard Street and watchin’ that blackboard?”
　　Lennie’s face broke into a delighted smile. “Why sure, George. I remember that . . . . but . . . . what’d we do then? I remember some girls come by and you says . . . . you says . . . .”
　　“The hell with what I says. You remember about us goin’ in to Murray and Ready’s, and they give us work cards and bus tickets?”
　　“Oh, sure, George. I remember that now.” His hands went quickly into his side coat pockets. He said gently, “George . . . . I ain’t got mine. I musta lost it.” He looked down at the ground in despair.
　　“You never had none, you crazy bastard. I got both of ‘em here. Think I’d let you carry your own work card?”
　　Lennie grinned with relief. “I . . . . I thought I put it in my side pocket.” His hand went into the pocket again.
　　George looked sharply at him. “What’d you take outa that pocket?”
　　“Ain’t a thing in my pocket,” Lennie said cleverly.
　　“I know there ain’t. You got it in your hand. What you got in your hand—hidin’ it?”
　　“I ain’t got nothin’, George. Honest.”
　　“Come on, give it here.”
　　Lennie held his closed hand away from George’s direction. “It’s on’y a mouse, George.”
　　“A mouse? A live mouse?”
　　“Uh-uh. Jus’ a dead mouse, George. I didn’t kill it. Honest! I found it. I found it dead.”
　　“Give it here!” said George.
　　“Aw, leave me have it, George.”
　　“Give it here!”
　　Lennie’s closed hand slowly obeyed. George took the mouse and threw it across the pool to the other side, among the brush. “What you want of a dead mouse, 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 remember where we’re goin’ now?”
　　Lennie looked startled and then in embarrassment hid his face against his knees. “I forgot again.”
　　“Jesus Christ,” George said resignedly. “Well—look, we’re gonna work on a ranch like the one we come from up north.”
　　“Up north?”
　　“In Weed.”
　　“Oh, sure. I remember. In Weed.”
　　“That ranch we’re goin’ to is right down there about a quarter mile. We’re gonna go in an’ see the boss. Now, look—I’ll give him the work tickets, but you ain’t gonna say a word. You jus’ stand there and don’t say nothing. If he finds out what a crazy bastard you are, we won’t get no job, but if he sees ya work before he hears ya talk, we’re set. Ya got that?”
　　“Sure, George. Sure I got it.”
　　“O.K. Now when we go in to see the boss, what you gonna do?”
　　“I . . . . I . . . .” Lennie thought. His face grew tight with thought. “I . . . . ain’t gonna say nothin’. Jus’ gonna stan’ there.”
　　“Good boy. That’s swell. You say that over two, three times so you sure won’t forget it.”
　　Lennie droned to himself softly, “I ain’t gonna say nothin’ . . . . I ain’t gonna say nothin’ . . . . I ain’t gonna say nothin’.”
　　“O.K.,” said George. “An’ you ain’t gonna do no bad things like you done in Weed, neither.” 
　　Lennie looked puzzled. “Like I done in Weed?”
　　“Oh, so ya forgot that too, did ya? Well, I ain’t gonna remind ya, fear ya do it again.”
　　A light of understanding broke on Lennie’s face. “They run us outa Weed,” he exploded triumphantly.
　　“Run us out, hell,” said George disgustedly. “We run. They was lookin’ for us, but they didn’t catch us.”
　　Lennie giggled happily. “I didn’t forget that, you bet.”
　　George lay back on the sand and crossed his hands under his head, and 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 so nice 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 work on a ranch, George.”
　　“Awright. You got that. But we’re gonna sleep here because I got a reason.”
　　The day was going fast now. Only the tops of the Gabilan Mountains flamed with the light of the sun that had gone from the valley. A water snake slipped along on the pool, its head held up like a little periscope. The reeds jerked slightly in the current. Far off toward the highway a man shouted something, and another man shouted back. The sycamore limbs rustled under a little wind that died immediately.
　　“George—why ain’t we goin’ on to the ranch and get some supper? They got supper at the ranch.”
　　George rolled on his side. “No reason at all for you. I like it here. Tomorra we’re gonna go to work. I seen thrashin’ machines on the way down. That means we’ll be buckin’ grain bags, bustin’ a gut. Tonight I’m gonna lay right here and look up. I like it.”
　　Lennie got up on his knees and looked down at George. “Ain’t we gonna have no supper?”
　　“Sure we are, if you gather up some dead willow sticks. I got three cans of beans in my bindle. You get a fire ready. I’ll give you a match when you get the sticks together. Then we’ll heat the beans and have supper.”
　　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 where he was and whistled softly to himself. There were sounds of splashings down the river in the direction Lennie had taken. George stopped whistling and listened. “Poor bastard,” he said softly, and then went on whistling again.
　　In a moment Lennie came crashing back through the brush. He carried one small willow stick in his hand. George sat up. “Awright,” he said brusquely. “Gi’me that mouse!”
　　But Lennie made an elaborate pantomime of innocence. “What mouse, George? I ain’t got no mouse.”
　　George held out his hand. “Come on. Give it to me. You ain’t puttin’ nothing over.”
　　Lennie hesitated, backed away, looked wildly at the brush line as though he contemplated running for his freedom. George said coldly, “You gonna give me that mouse or do I have to sock you?”
　　“Give you what, George?”
　　“You know God damn well what. I want that mouse.”
　　Lennie reluctantly reached into his pocket. His voice broke a little. “I don’t know why I can’t keep it. It ain’t nobody’s mouse. I didn’t steal it. I found it lyin’ right beside the road.”
　　George’s hand remained outstretched imperiously. Slowly, like a terrier who doesn’t want to bring a ball to its master, Lennie approached, drew back, approached again. George snapped his fingers sharply, and at the sound Lennie laid the mouse in his hand.
　　“I wasn’t doin’ nothing bad with it, George. Jus’ strokin’ it.”
　　George stood up and threw the mouse as far as he could into the darkening brush, 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 to get it?” He heard Lennie’s whimpering cry and wheeled about. “Blubberin’ like a baby! Jesus Christ! A big guy like you.” Lennie’s lip quivered and tears started in his eyes. “Aw, Lennie!” George put his hand on Lennie’s shoulder. “I ain’t takin’ it away jus’ for meanness. That mouse ain’t fresh, Lennie; and besides, you’ve broke it pettin’ it. You get another mouse that’s fresh and I’ll let you keep it a little while.”
　　Lennie sat down on the ground and hung his head dejectedly. “I don’t know where 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. That was 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 a little 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 do with it.”
　　“It wasn’t no good to pet,” said Lennie.
　　The flame of the sunset lifted from the mountaintops and dusk came into the valley, and a half darkness came in among the willows and the sycamores. A big carp rose to the surface of the pool, gulped air and then sank mysteriously into the dark water again, leaving widening rings on the water. Overhead the leaves whisked again and little puffs of willow cotton blew down and landed on the pool’s surface.
　　“You gonna get that wood?” George demanded. “There’s plenty right up against the back of that sycamore. Floodwater wood. Now you get it.”
　　Lennie went behind the tree and brought out a litter of dried leaves and twigs. He threw them in a heap on the old ash pile and went back for more and more. It was almost night now. A dove’s wings whistled over the water. George walked to the fire pile and lighted the dry leaves. The flame cracked up among the twigs and fell to work. George undid his bindle and brought out three cans of beans. He stood them about the fire, close in against the blaze, but not quite touching the flame.
　　“There’s enough beans for four men,” George said.
　　Lennie watched him from over the fire. He said patiently, “I like ‘em with ketchup.”
　　“Well, we ain’t got any,” George exploded. “Whatever we ain’t got, that’s what you want. God a’mighty, if I was alone I could live so easy. I could go get a job an’ work, an’ no trouble. No mess at all, and when the end of the month come I could take my fifty bucks and go into town and get whatever I want. Why, I could stay in a cat house all night. I could eat any place I want, hotel or any place, and order any damn thing I could think of. An’ I could do all that every damn month. Get a gallon of whisky, or set in a pool room and play cards or shoot pool.” Lennie knelt and looked over the fire at the angry George. And Lennie’s face was drawn with terror. “An’ whatta I got,” George went on furiously. “I got you! You can’t keep a job and you lose me ever’ job I get. Jus’ keep me shovin’ all over the country all the time. An’ that ain’t the worst. You get in trouble. You do bad things and I got to get you out.” His voice rose nearly to a shout. “You crazy son-of-a-bitch. You keep me in hot water all the time.” He took on the elaborate manner of little girls when they are mimicking one another. “Jus’ wanted to feel that girl’s dress—jus’ wanted to pet it like it was a mouse—Well, how the hell did she know you jus’ wanted to feel her dress? She jerks back and you hold on like it was a mouse. She yells and we got to hide in a irrigation ditch all day with guys lookin’ for us, and we got to sneak out in the dark and get outa the country. All the time somethin’ like that—all the time. I wisht I could put you in a cage with about a million mice an’ let you have fun.” His anger left him suddenly. He looked across the fire at Lennie’s anguished face, and then he looked ashamedly at the flames.
　　It was quite dark now, but the fire lighted the trunks of the trees and the curving branches overhead. Lennie crawled slowly and cautiously around the fire until he was close to George. He sat back on his heels. George turned the bean cans so that another side faced the fire. He pretended to be unaware of Lennie so close beside him.
　　“George,” very softly. No answer. “George!”
　　“Whatta you want?”
　　“I was only foolin’, George. I don’t want no ketchup. I wouldn’t eat no ketchup 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 cover your 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 I could 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?”
　　“Where the hell could you go?”
　　“Well, I could. I could go off in the hills there. Some place I’d find a cave.”
　　“Yeah? How’d you eat? You ain’t got sense enough to find nothing to eat.”
　　“I’d find things, George. I don’t need no nice food with ketchup. I’d lay out in 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 away any time.”
　　“No—look! I was jus’ foolin’, Lennie. ‘Cause I want you to stay with me. Trouble with mice is you always kill ‘em.” He paused. “Tell you what I’ll do, Lennie. First chance I get I’ll give you a pup. Maybe you wouldn’t kill it. That’d be better than mice. And you could pet it harder.”
　　Lennie avoided the bait. He had sensed his advantage. “If you don’t want me, you only jus’ got to say so, and I’ll go off in those hills right there—right up in those hills and live by myself. An’ I won’t get no mice stole from me.”
　　George said, “I want you to stay with me, Lennie. Jesus Christ, somebody’d shoot you for a coyote if you was by yourself. No, you stay with me. Your Aunt Clara wouldn’t like you running off by yourself, even if she is dead.”
　　Lennie spoke craftily, “Tell me—like you done before.”
　　“Tell you what?”
　　“About the rabbits.”
　　George snapped, “You ain’t gonna put nothing over on me.”
　　Lennie pleaded, “Come on, George. Tell me. Please, George. Like you done before.”
　　“You get a kick outa that, don’t you? Awright, I’ll tell you, and then we’ll eat our supper . . . .”
　　George’s voice became deeper. He repeated his words rhythmically as though he had said them many times before. “Guys like us, that work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no fambly. They don’t belong no place. They come to a ranch an’ work up a stake and then they go into town and blow their stake, and the first thing you know they’re poundin’ their tail on some other ranch. They ain’t got nothing to look ahead to.”
　　Lennie was delighted. “That’s it—that’s it. Now tell how it is with us.”
　　George went on. “With us it ain’t like that. We got a future. We got somebody to talk to that gives a damn about us. We don’t have to sit-in no bar room blowin’ in our jack jus’ because we got no place else to go. If them other guys gets in jail they can rot for all anybody gives a damn. But not us.”
　　Lennie broke in. “But not us! An’ why? Because . . . . because I got you to look after me, and you got me to look after you, and that’s why.” He laughed delightedly. “Go on now, George!”
　　“You got it by heart. You can do it yourself.”
　　“No, you. I forget some a’ the things. Tell about how it’s gonna be.”
　　“O.K. Someday—we’re gonna get the jack together and we’re gonna have a little house and a couple of acres an’ a cow and some pigs and—”
　　“An’ live off the fatta the lan’,” Lennie shouted. “An’ have rabbits. Go on, George! Tell about what we’re gonna have in the garden and about the rabbits in the cages and about the rain in the winter and the stove, and how thick the cream is on the milk like you can hardly cut it. Tell about that, George.”
　　“Why’n’t you do it yourself? You know all of it.”
　　“No . . . . you tell it. It ain’t the same if I tell it. Go on . . . . George. How I get to tend the rabbits.”
　　“Well,” said George, “we’ll have a big vegetable patch and a rabbit hutch and chickens. And when it rains in the winter, we’ll just say the hell with goin’ to work, and we’ll build up a fire in the stove and set around it an’ listen to the rain comin’ down on the roof—Nuts!” He took out his pocket knife. “I ain’t got time for no more.” He drove his knife through the top of one of the bean cans, sawed out the top and passed the can to Lennie. Then he opened a second can. From his side pocket he brought out two spoons and passed one of them to Lennie.
　　They sat by the fire and filled their mouths with beans and chewed mightily. A few beans slipped out of the side of Lennie’s mouth. George gestured with his spoon. “What you gonna say tomorrow when the boss asks you questions?”
　　Lennie stopped chewing and swallowed. His face was concentrated. “I . . . . I ain’t gonna . . . . say a word.”
　　“Good boy! That’s fine, Lennie! Maybe you’re gettin’ better. When we get the coupla acres I can let you tend the rabbits all right. ‘Specially if you remember as good as that.”
　　Lennie choked with pride. “I can remember,” he said.
　　George motioned with his spoon again. “Look, Lennie. I want you to look around here. You can remember this place, can’t you? The ranch is about a quarter mile up that way. Just follow the river?”
　　“Sure,” said Lennie. “I can remember this. Di’n’t I remember about not gonna say a word?” 
　　“’Course you did. Well, look. Lennie—if you jus’ happen to get in trouble like you always done before, I want you to come right here an’ hide in the brush.”
　　“Hide in the brush,” said Lennie slowly.
　　“Hide in the brush till I come for you. Can you remember that?”
　　“Sure I can, George. Hide in the brush till you come.”
　　“But you ain’t gonna get in no trouble, because if you do, I won’t let you tend the rabbits.” He threw his empty bean can off into the brush.
　　“I won’t get in no trouble, George. I ain’t gonna say a word
　　“O.K. Bring your bindle over here by the fire. It’s gonna be nice sleepin’ here. Lookin’ up, and the leaves. Don’t build up no more fire. We’ll let her die down.”
　　They made their beds on the sand, and as the blaze dropped from the fire the sphere of light grew smaller; the curling branches disappeared and only a faint glimmer showed where the tree trunks were. From the darkness Lennie called, “George—you asleep?”
　　“No. Whatta you want?”
　　“Let’s have different color rabbits, George.”
　　“Sure we will,” George said sleepily. “Red and blue and green rabbits, Lennie. Millions of ‘em.”
　　“Furry ones, George, like I seen in the fair in Sacramento.”
　　“Sure, furry ones.”
　　“’Cause I can jus’ as well go away, George, an’ live in a cave.”
　　“You can jus’ as well go to hell,” said George. “Shut up now.”
　　The red light dimmed on the coals. Up the hill from the river a coyote yammered, and a dog answered from the other side of the stream.
The sycamore leaves whispered in a little night breeze.
第 一 章
从梭利戴德往南没几里的工夫，夏连那斯河靠着山边的崖岸绿而深地流，流。水还是暖的，因为它湍急地从被阳光晒得热辣辣的黄沙上穿过，才到达这狭窄的潭。河的一边，金色的山坡蜿蜒地伸向那崚嶒而巍峨的加比兰群山，而在洼谷的这一边，水树相接———每年春天杨柳都长得又苍翠又鲜妍，把它们长得靠下面的一簇簇的叶子卷进冬潮冲来的浮渣中去；长着白色的、斑驳的低斜枝桠，足有合抱那么粗的槭树从这水潭上空弯拱而过。沙滩上树底下，落叶积得厚厚一层，而且是那么干脆，一条晰蜴走过就会嗄嗄的大声响起来。一到傍晚，兔子便从丛树林走出来，坐在沙上。渍湿的洼地被浣熊夜行的足迹盖过，还有散落在各处的从农场里出来的狗的脚印，和黑夜里跑来饮水的鹿楔子般裂开的足痕。
穿过许多柳树，在槭树的树林中，有一条小路，那些从附近各个农场跑到这深潭来游水的孩子们把这条小路踩得很熟，除此之外，把它踩熟了的，还有那些傍晚时分非常疲惫地从公路上走下来，靠水边胡乱睡一夜的流浪汉。有一堆多次烧火积成的灰堆在大槭树一腿贴地的横枝前面堆着；人们早已把这一腿树枝，坐得滑溜溜的了。
一个热天的傍晚，林叶间拂荡着微风。夕阳爬到了山腰，正在往山顶上爬过去。兔子坐在沙滩上，那样宁静，好象几座银灰色的小石雕。不一会，一阵脚睬在干脆的槭树叶上发出来的声响从公路那边传了过来。兔子悄悄地躲了起来。一只长脚鹭呼的一声飞到空中，又嘭的一声冲到了河里。这地方死寂了好一会，才有两个人出现在小路上，向碧潭旁的空地走过来。他们一前一后地在小路上走着，到了潭边的空地停下来时，还是一个紧跟在另一个的后头。这两个人穿的都是斜纹棉布裤子，上衫也是斜纹布的，黄铜钮扣。两人都戴着黑色的、没了样子了的帽儿，肩上各挂着一个绑得紧紧的毛毡包捆。领头的那个人短小精干，脸庞黎黑，一副坚实而尖削的样子，脸上有着一双显得焦虑不安的双眼。他的每一部分都是清晰的：细长的手臂，细小而有力的双手，薄薄的、骨棱棱的鼻子。那个在他后面跟着的人同他刚好相反，大个子，肩膊宽阔而向下倾斜；脸孔粗糙，一双大而浮白的眼睛；他走路的样子很吃力，就象一头熊提起它的脚掌来似的，慢慢地用力举步。走路时他的双臂并不左右摆动，而是随便地垂着，只是由于沉重的双手象钟摆般自然摇动着，才牵动了手臂。
领头的那个人突然在空地上停了下来，差点儿没被后头的那一个撞到。他除下帽子，用食指将帽子里边皮带上的汗滴揩了揩，然后又“嗒”的一下将汗水弹了去。他那大个子伙伴将毛毡包捆卸了下来，接着便猛地弯下腰去喝碧潭面上的水；往肚里大口大口地灌水，鼻孔象一匹马饮水时那样子在水里发出咕冬咕冬的响声。小个子着急地走到他身旁。
“天啊！”他尖声说。“李奈，你别喝这么多吧。”李奈仍咕冬咕冬地在潭里喝着。小个子抢上去将他的肩膀摇了摇。“李奈，你会象昨天夜里那样病倒了。”
李奈把整个脑袋泡到水里去，连帽子也泡进去了，过了好一阵子才起来坐到滩岸上，水簌簌地从帽檐滴下来，滴在蓝布衫上面，一直流到了脊背上。“好得很啊，”他说。“你也来喝一点吧，佐治。你也来喝个痛快。”他高兴地笑了起来。
佐治轻轻地将他的包捆取下，放在滩岸上。“我不相信这水是好的，看上去它像是混浊得很呢。”
李奈嘭的把他那厚大的手掌插进水里，伸开五指在水里搅动着，把水拨得发出轻声的哗啦响声；一个个圈子漫开去漫开去，涌过这潭，到得对岸，又涌回来。瞧着水圈子，李奈说，“瞧，佐治，你瞧我搅的这个。”
佐治走到潭边跪了下来，飞快地用手捧起一捧水喝了下去。“这就对了，”他赞同地说，“虽然和真正的流动着的水还是不太像，但那不流动的水你可千万别喝啊，李奈，”他失望地说。“渴得厉害的时候，哪怕是阴沟里的水你也是要喝干的。”他戽了一捧水浇在自己的脸上，用手揩着，把自己从颏到颈背抹了一阵。然后，戴上帽子，从河边一骨碌抽身回来，把一双膝髁曲起，用手搂抱着坐在那儿。李奈紧紧地盯了一会，分毫不差地学佐治的样子。他也将身子收回来，收双膝曲起用双手搂抱着它们，一面呆呆地看着佐治，瞧是不是刚好就是这么个样子。他把帽缘拉低些，盖过眼睛，佐治的帽子就是这样戴着的。
佐治阴沉地凝视着潭水。夕阳将他的眼缘照得发红。他气愤地说，“眼看我们是可以赶到农场的，那杂种巴士司机要是知道他讲的是怎样的昏话。‘打公路往下走一点点便是了，’他说。‘往下走一点点’，妈的将近四哩路呢，就这么回事！就是这么样的呀，不用在农场门口停车的。妈的他懒得停车。他在梭利戴德停车时，就分明不怀好意的了。妈的赶我们下来，说，‘打公路往下走一点点便是了。’肯定是四哩还有多，我敢打赌。妈的这么个大热天。”
李奈胆怯地望了他一眼。“佐治？”
“嗯，你要什么？”
“我们是到什么地方去呀，佐治？”
小个子皱紧眉头，将他的帽缘扯低了些，瞅了李奈一眼。“又全都给你忘掉了，是不是？我又得给你讲一遍啦，是不是？唉唉，主耶稣，你是个饭桶的杂种！”
“我忘了，”李奈柔声说。“我拚了命不忘掉它的。对天发誓，我是真的是这样做的，佐治。”
“好———好吧。我来再讲一遍给你听。反正我闲着没事哩。好些事情都告诉过你，不久你又把它们忘掉了，我又得再讲。这样一来我也好打发日子。”
“拚命又拚命去记，”李奈说，“可总是记不牢。兔子我记得，佐治。”
“他妈的发瘟兔子。什么你也记不得，光记得兔子。好，听着吧，这一次你可得把它记住，别让我们老是缠不清。我们走到胡亚大街的贫民区里去登记，眼睛望着黑板你记得吗？”
忽地一朵快活地微笑出现在李奈的脸上。“喂，对了，佐治。我记得那……可是，我们后来怎么啦？我记得有好几个姑娘走近过来，你说……你说……”
“我说个鬼。我们走进莫莱吕岱公司，他们把汽车票和上工证发给我们你记得吗？”
“哦，是是，佐治。现在我记起来了。”他迅捷地将手伸到衫袋里。他慢吞吞地说：“佐治……我找不着我的啦。它准是给我弄丢了。”他很沮丧地朝地上发愣。
“你不会有的，你这杂种白痴。都在我这儿，两张上工证，想想看，我会把你那张交给自己带着吗？”
李奈安下了心，咧着嘴笑。“我……我记得是把它放在衫袋里的。”他的手又插到了袋里去。
佐治倏地望了他一眼。什么东西给你从那衫袋里拿了出来？”
李奈乖觉地说：“什么也没有我衫袋里。”
“口袋里没有我知道。你把它拿在手上了。你手里拿的是什么？———想藏起来？”
“佐治，我什么也没拿。我可以发誓。”
“过来，把它给我。”
李奈将他那只捏紧的手朝和佐治相反的方向伸出去。“只是一只老鼠，佐治。”
“老鼠？一只活老鼠？”
“呃———呃，一只———只是一只死了的老鼠，佐治。不是我把它弄死的。我敢发誓！我找来的。它给我找来的时候就是死的了。”
佐治说：“给我！”
“嗳，佐治，就让我带着它吧。”
“给我！”
终于迫不得已李奈慢慢地将那只捏紧的手放了下来了。佐治一把将老鼠抓起，将它掷过了潭去，落在对岸的树丛中。“干吗你要只死老鼠？”
“我用大拇指摸它玩儿，我们一路走的时候。”李奈说。
“嚄，可别玩老鼠，你同我一道走路。现在咱们是上哪儿去，你记起了吧？”
李奈似乎吃了一惊，没一下，又显得很难过，他将头低下去，让双膝把脸遮住。“我又忘了。”
“主耶稣，”佐治沉着气说。“好———瞧吧，我们就要到一个农场里去干活儿了，就象北方的那个我们在那儿干过活的农场一样。”
“北方？”
“在韦地。”
“哦，在韦地。是是，我记起来啦。”
“打这里下去，我们要去的那农场，只剩下小半哩路的样子了。我们就要去到那儿，就要见到经理。哪，瞧———我把这上工证交给他，你可一句话也别说。你只是在那儿站着，什么话也别说。要是让他瞧破了你是个白痴家伙，活儿我们就得不着了。但他要是先瞧见你扛活，然后再听见你讲话，我们就不愁啦。记得吗？”
“是，佐治。我一定记住。”
“好啦。那么你怎么样？当我们去到农场看到经理的时候。”
“我……我，”李奈想了想。因为在用心想，他的脸绷得紧紧的。“我……什么话也不说，只是在一旁站着。”
“好伙计，真是不得了。你再把这说上两遍、三遍，那你就不会忘了。”
李奈对自己柔声地逐字喃喃着：“我什么话也不说……我什么话也不说……我什么话也不说。”
“成啦，”佐治说。“不过还有，千万别干，象你在韦地干过的坏事。”
看上去李奈似乎很困惑：“象我在韦地干过的？”
“噢，连这也给你忘掉了咧，是不是？好，索性我就不提醒你了，免得这样的乱子再给你闯出来。”
突然一线理解的闪光出现在李奈的脸上。他得意洋洋地嚷道：“是他们放我们走的，在韦地。”
“放我们走？发昏，”佐治不耐烦地说。“我们是跑出来的。他们到处搜寻，只除了没抓到我们。”
李奈高兴地笑出声来。“你放心好了，这个我倒没忘掉。”
佐治将身子向后一躺，睡在沙地上，双手交叉着枕在头下面。李奈学着他的样子，躺下去后又把头抬起来，看学得象不象。“天啊，你是个死麻烦，”佐治说。“要是没有你这条拖在我后头的尾巴，日子会给我过得多舒服，多快活。我会活得十分惬意，说不定还会找到个大姑娘。”
静静地躺了一会儿后，忽然李奈充满希望地说：“佐治，我们就要在农场干活儿了。”
“对呀，你有得干的。可是我有一个道理，今天夜里我们得睡在这儿。”
现在，白昼飞快地过去了。只是已经从峡谷离开的太阳的余辉仍在加比兰群山的峰峦闪烁着。一条水蛇从潭面游过。它昂着头，象一个小小的潜望镜。水流中，芦苇正在轻轻地摆动着。朝公路那边的远处，有人喝了一声什么，另一个人也回喝了一句。
一阵一瞬既逝的疾风吹过，槭树的枝桠飕飕地摇响起来。
“佐治———我们为什么不赶到农场去，找一顿晚饭来吃？农场里他们是有晚饭的呀。”
佐治翻了翻身。“没有什么理由可以对你说的。我喜欢这儿。明天咱们就得去上工了。我一路上看见许多打麦机。这就是说我们得背麦袋了，得下死劲去背。今天晚上我要躺在这儿，望望四近。我喜欢这样。”
李奈双膝着地支住身子站起来，垂头望着佐治：“没有晚饭吃吗我们？”
“当然有，我们只要你肯去拾些枯柳枝回来。有三个豆子罐头在我的包捆里装着。你生个火。把柴弄来了我给一根火柴给你。把豆子煮熟，我们就吃个晚餐。”
“我喜欢茄酱拌豆子。”李奈说。
“嗯，茄酱我们没有。拾柴去吧，你。别呆头呆脑地光顾着贪玩。天就快黑啦。”
李奈拖着沉重的脚步走进了丛林。佐治还在原先的地方躺着，一个人低柔地吹起口哨来。一阵河水啵啦的响声从河的那边，李奈所朝的方向传了过来。佐治停住口哨，仔细听了听。“可怜的杂种”，他柔声细气地说了一句，接着又吹起口哨来。
过了会儿，李奈窸窣窸窣地从树林里穿了出来，回来了。他手里握着一根小杨柳枝。佐治坐了起来。“喂，”他气唬唬地说，“把那老鼠给我！”
李奈装出一副仿佛莫名所以的表情。“什么老鼠，佐治？我没有老鼠！”
佐治将手伸出来。“过来。把老鼠给我。你瞒不了我的。”
李奈犹豫了，往后退了几步，象是打算脱逃似的。野气十足地望着那一排树丛。佐治冷冷地说，“你是把那老鼠给我，还是要我来揍你一顿？”
“给你什么呀，佐治？”
“给什么你他妈清楚得很。我要那只老鼠。”
李奈很不情原地将手伸到口袋中去。他的声音十分地轻微。“为什么我不能要它，我真不懂。它又不是谁的老鼠。我不是偷来的。它是我从路边拾来的。”
佐治仍然不由分说地伸着手。于是李奈象一头不肯把球带给主人的猎犬，慢吞吞地走近过来，又退了回去，又再走近过来。佐治一骨碌地把他的手扭转过来，随着这声响声，李奈把老鼠塞到他巴掌里去。
“佐治，我没有拿它干什么坏事。我只是摸它玩儿。”
佐治站起身来，尽着自己的腕力把老鼠掷到正在昏暗下来的丛林里去了。随后，他走到潭边，把手洗了洗。“你这蠢家伙。走过河去找老鼠，你想你的脚是湿的我没看见吗？”听见李奈呜呜嗷嗷地哭了起来，他又转过脸说，“象个小孩似的嗷嗷哭？天哪！这么一条大汉。”李奈嘴唇翕动着，泪水不停地从眼眶里涌了出来。“唉，李奈！”佐治把手放在李奈肩膀上。“把老鼠丢了去，不是我要欺负你。那只老鼠不新鲜，李奈；再加上它给你玩得皮都裂了。我会让你袋着玩一会儿的等到你找得一只新鲜老鼠。”
李奈坐到在地上，败兴地低垂着头。“什么地方还有老鼠我不知道。我记得有位太太常常给老鼠给我———抓到一只她就给我一只。可那位太太现在不在这儿。”
“太太？呃？连那位太太是谁也给你忘掉了。那是你自己的卡莉拉姑母。因为你总是把它们都弄死，她再也不会给你了。”佐治揶揄他说。
李奈悲伤地望着佐治。“它们那么小，”他辩解说。“我摸着它们玩，没一下子工夫它们就会咬我的手指头，我轻轻捏一下它们的头，它们就死了———这只好怪它们太小了。”
“我巴望很快我们就有兔子，佐治。兔子不象这么小。”
“他妈的发瘟兔子。连个活老鼠你也过信不得呢。你卡莉拉姑母给了一只橡胶鼠给你，可它你连摸也不摸一下。”
李奈说：“橡胶鼠没什么摸头。”
山峦上，落日的余辉散逝了，朦胧的夜色笼罩着山谷，柳林和槭树林上都敷上了一层灰黯。一尾大鲤鱼浮到潭面来，又诡秘地沉到漆黑的水里去，只留下好些水圈在潭面上愈涌愈大。高处的树叶又拂荡起来，柳絮一阵阵的飘落在潭面上。
“你再去拾些柴禾来吗？”佐治问。“那棵槭树后面就有许多柴好拾。都是些水推柴。去拾吧。”
李奈走到树后面，揽了一把干树叶和枯枝回来。柴禾被他抛在一个烧过多次火的旧灰堆上，叠成一小堆，他又这样来回走了几趟，拾了更多的回来，堆上去。入夜时分，一只斑鸠展开双翅飕的一声从水面掠过。佐治走到旧灰堆旁，点燃干树叶。火焰噼里啪啦地在柴枝中爆响并升了起来。佐治将他的包捆解开，从里面取出了三个豆子罐头。他把罐头靠着火立着，让它们跟火焰靠得很近，而又不十分碰到火舌。
“这些豆子足够四个人吃，”佐治说。
李奈隔着火堆守着佐治。“我爱吃拌上茄酱的。”他忍住口水说。
“嗯，这东西我们没有，”佐治跳了起来。“我们没有的，你就偏要。天，我会活得多舒服，要是我是一个人我总能有个活儿干，又不会出什么乱子。准什么岔子都不会出，一到月底，拿到我的五十块钱，就进城去，爱什么买什么。哼，我可以在猫屋里过夜。爱到什么地方吃我便到什么地方吃，在酒馆或是什么别的地方，开个菜单就把它叫了来，只要我想得上来的东西。每个月都妈的这么干个痛快。喝上它个一大盅的威士忌，坐在赌场里，玩几手牌，或者赌上几个回合，”李奈隔着火堆跪着，看着生气的佐治。他的脸给吓得明显地发青。“可是我得到了什么呢？”佐治狂乱地讲下去。“我得到的是你！什么活儿你都干不长，还把我也拖累得把我的活儿丢掉。搞得我只好一年四季，到处奔波。而最糟的还不是这个。你会出乱子。你干了坏事，我又非得把你救出来不可。”他的嗓门高得简直像是在吆喝。“你这狗养的白痴，叫我一年四季活受罪。”忽然佐治的态度变得忸怩起来，象小姑娘们互相学对方的样子时似的，“只想去摸一下那个姑娘的衣服———就象那老鼠，你只想摸它玩儿……嗬，妈的你只是想摸一下她的衣服她怎么知道？她突然回过身来，你便象抓一只老鼠那样，把她一把抓住，她喊起来，我们只好躲到一条水渠里，躲了一整天，那些家伙搜得紧，没办法，我们只好到天黑才偷偷溜出来，从那个地方离开。这样的乱子一年四季都闹———一年四季都出事。我真想能够把你关在一只放着上百万只老鼠的笼子里头，让你玩个痛快，”突然他的怒气消失了。隔着火堆他望了望李奈惨苦的脸孔，然后又疚愧地将目光望着火焰。
天色现在完全黑了下来，可是火光照亮着树木的躯干和低处蜷曲的枝桠。李奈提心吊胆地、缓缓地将身体从火堆对面移过来，直到跟佐治靠得很近，他才蹲了下去。佐治拧了豆子罐头一下，使它另一面朝着火。李奈紧靠在他身边他装作不知道。
“佐治，”声音非常地低柔。没有回答“佐治！”
“什么事呀？”
“我只是说着玩的，佐治。茄酱我不要。就准这儿，茄酱就在跟前摆着，我也不吃。”
“你可以吃一点的，要是这儿摆着有。”
“可是佐治，我一点也不吃它呀。我把它统统留给你。让你把酱在你的豆子上铺得满满的，我连沾也不沾它。”
佐治还是愠怒地瞪着火堆。“我一想起我的日子要是没有你，会过得多利索，我就忍不住生气。哪怕一天的平安我也从来都得不到。”
李奈还是蹲在那儿。他瞧着对河那无边无际的黑暗。“佐治，你是要我走开，让你独自个儿过活吗？”
“你他妈能到什么地方去？”
“呃，我能。我能走到那边的山里去，总有个什么地方会给我找到个山洞。”
“唷？你怎么会有吃的。连找东西吃的能耐你都没有。”
“佐治，我能找。我不一定非要吃拌茄酱的好料。我露天躺在那儿，没有人会来伤害我的。要是有个老鼠给我找到，那便是我的了，没有谁会要了我的去的。”
佐治飞快地、搜索似地望了他一眼。“你是指的我，是不是？”
“你要是不要我了，我可以走到山里去，找个洞。随便什么时候我都可以走开的。”
“不不———你瞧！我只是开个玩笑而已，李奈。我需要你留下，和我在一起。我们常常为着老鼠闹别扭，那是因为你总是弄死它们。”他停了停。“我告诉你我打算怎么样吧，李奈。只要一有机会，我便给你一匹小狗。你也许不会把它弄死。那比老鼠好得多哩。你摸它摸得重一些也不打紧。”
李奈并不受诱惑，他觉察到这时正是对他有利的时机。“只消对我说一声，如果你不要我，我就走开，走到那边山里———我自己一个人在这些山上过活。这样一来，再也不会有人把我的老鼠偷了去。”
佐治说：“李奈，我要你留着，和我在一起。天哪，你要是一个人住在山里，你会被别人当作是一匹野狼射死的。不，你留在我身边。就是死在九泉，你那卡莉拉姑母也不会高兴你独个儿跑开去的。”
李奈很惯熟地说道：“讲给我听呀———象你过去那样讲。”
“讲什么给你听？”
“讲兔子。”
佐治生气地说：“你可不要来摆布我。”
李奈恳求道：“佐治，讲吧。讲给我听吧。我请求你，象你过去那样给我讲吧，佐治。”
“你觉得这个很有意思哩，是不是。好吧。我把它讲给你听，讲完了我们好吃晚餐……”
佐治的声调愈发深沉了。他很有节奏地将那些字句复诵着，一听就可以知道，那是过去他说过无数遍了的。“象我们这样在农场做工的角儿，是世界上最孤零的人。他们没有乡土。没有家。他们到一家农场干活，积下一小注钱，就走到城里去把它们花得一干二净，后来呢，你知道的头一件事便是，他们又拚死拚活地在另一家农场干起来了。前头，日后的事，他们从来就不瞧，一样也不管。”
李奈兴奋了起来。“就是这———就是这。喂，讲讲我们是怎么样的吧。”
佐治继续讲了下去。“我们可不象那样。我们有人可以谈话，有相互的关怀。我们不会因为没有可去的地方去，就坐在酒巴间里把我们工钱胡乱花掉。别的人们要是给关到了牢里去，他们就只能眼巴巴地等着腐烂掉，因为没有人会去关心他们。但我们却不一样。”
李奈插嘴说。“但我们却不这样！为什么？因为……因为你有我关顾你，我有你关顾我，就为的这样。”他自得地笑了。“接着讲下去吧，佐治。”
“你已经把这些都记牢了。你自己也会讲了。”
“不。你讲。总有一些给我忘掉了。讲吧，下面怎么样。”
“唔。有一天———等我们把钱聚起来，就可以弄到两亩地，一间小屋，还有几只猪，一头母牛，还有———”
“还有在自己的土地上住着，”李奈提高嗓门叫起来。“兔子也有了。讲下去吧，佐治！讲讲笼里的兔子，我们园子里有些什么，讲冬天里的火炉和雨吧，讲牛奶搁着多厚的奶油，你割也很难割得开。讲这些吧，佐治。”
“你为什么不自己讲呢？这些你全都知道了呀。”
“不……你讲。给我讲起来就走样了。讲下去吧……佐治。讲我是怎样看管那些兔子的。”
“唔，”佐治说。“将来我们有一大块菜块，有一只兔笼，还有好些小鸡。冬天下雨的时候，我们就会说，他妈的别去干活了。在炉子上生起火，围着炉子坐着，听雨点打在瓦面上发出来淅沥淅沥的响声———妈的！”他将一把小刀从口袋掏出来。“我没空讲了。”他把小刀从一个豆子罐头的顶上戳了进去，锯开罐顶，将罐头递给李奈。接着又将第二罐打开又从口袋里拿出两只汤匙来，并且将其中一只递给李奈。
他们坐在火旁，口中塞满了豆子，使劲地嚼了起来。几粒豆子从李奈嘴角边溜了出来。佐治用汤匙比了个手势，说：“明天经理问你话，你说些什么呢？”
李奈停下来不嚼了，将豆子吞咽了下去。他的脸显得很是紧张。“我……我……一句话也不说。”
“好伙计！这就对了，李奈！你说不定还要更光彩哩。咱们那两亩地一到手，我就立刻把兔子交给你来管。你要是记得稳这么个样儿，不出岔子，那更行。”
李奈自豪得给豆子呛住了。“我记得稳的。”他说。
佐治再次拿他的汤匙比手势。“瞧，李奈。我要你瞧这四近。这个地方你记得住吧，行不行？打那条沿着河边的路走，只有小半哩路就是农场。”
“肯定啦，”李奈说。
“这个我会记得住的。一句话也不讲我不是记住了吗？”
“你当然记得。喂，你瞧。李奈———要是你又闯了祸，闹出从前你闹的乱子，我要你立刻就跑到这里来，躲在这些丛树林里面。”
“躲在这些丛树林里面，”李奈逐字地说着。
“躲在这些丛树林里面，直到我来找你。记住了吗？”
“记住了，佐治。躲在这些丛树林里面，直到你来找我。”
“但你可别再闯祸了，要是再闯祸，我便不给兔子给你管。”吃空了的豆罐被他扔进了丛树林中。
“我不会闯祸，佐治。我一句话不讲。”
“好，把你的包捆拿过来，靠近火堆。在这儿睏个觉好极了。瞧着上面，树叶子好多。用不着再添柴火，让火自己慢慢儿灭了吧。”
他们在沙上铺好床，火舌从火堆上坠下去的当儿，光圈渐渐地缩小了下去；蜷曲的枝桠隐没了，只余下微弱的光，将树身的轮廓照了出来。黑暗中，李奈喊道：“你睡着了吗？佐治。”
“没有。你要说什么？”
“各式各样颜色的兔子都有那才好哪，佐治。”
“我们肯定会有的，李奈。”佐治耐着瞌睡说。
“红的青的蓝的兔子，全都有啦。有好几百万只呢。”
“亮绉绉的一只只，佐治。就跟我在舍矶林门图的会景上看到的一样。”
“一定，亮绉绉的一只只。”
“佐治，我也是可以走开的，我找个山洞住。”
“你也可以走到阎王那儿去，”佐治说。“现在，别出声吧。”
火堆上赭红的光渐渐地黯淡下来了。河边的山坡上一只狼在嗥叫，对岸有只狗也应声吠了起来。槭树叶在轻微的夜风中拂荡，飒飒作响。
Chapter 2
　　he bunk house was a long, rectangular building. Inside, the walls were whitewashed and the floor unpainted. In three walls there were small, square windows, and in the fourth, a solid door with a wooden latch. Against the walls were eight bunks, five of them made up with blankets and the other three showing their burlap ticking. Over each bunk there was nailed an apple box with the opening forward so that it made two shelves for the personal belongings of the occupant of the bunk. And these shelves were loaded with little articles, soap and talcum powder, razors and those Western magazines ranch men love to read and scoff at and secretly believe. And there were medicines on the shelves, and little vials, combs; and from nails on the box sides, a few neckties. Near one wall there was a black cast-iron stove, its stovepipe going straight up through the ceiling. In the middle of the room stood a big square table littered with playing cards, and around it were grouped boxes for the players to sit on.
　　At about ten o’clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows, and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars.
　　The wooden latch raised. The door opened and a tall, stoop-shouldered old man came in. He was dressed in blue jeans and he carried a big push-broom in his left hand. Behind him came George, and behind George, Lennie.
　　“The boss was expectin’ you last night,” the old man said. “He was sore as hell when you wasn’t here to go out this morning.” He pointed with his right arm, and out of the sleeve came a round stick-like wrist, but no hand. “You can have them two beds there,” he said, indicating two bunks near the stove.
　　George stepped over and threw his blankets down on the burlap sack of straw that was a mattress. He looked into his box shelf and then picked a small yellow can from it. “Say. What the hell’s this?”
　　“I don’t know,” said the old man.
　　“Says ‘positively kills lice, roaches and other scourges.’ What the hell kind of bed you giving us, anyways. We don’t want no pants rabbits.”
　　The old swamper shifted his broom and held it between his elbow and his side while he held out his hand for the can. He studied the label carefully. “Tell you what—” he said finally, “last guy that had this bed was a blacksmith—hell of a nice fella and as clean a guy as you want to meet. Used to wash his hands even after he ate.”
　　“Then how come he got graybacks?” George was working up a slow anger. Lennie put his bindle on the neighboring bunk and sat down. He watched George with open mouth.
　　“Tell you what,” said the old swamper. “This here blacksmith—name of Whitey—was the kind of guy that would put that stuff around even if there wasn’t no bugs—just to make sure, see? Tell you what he used to do—At meals he’d peel his boil’ potatoes, an’ he’d take out ever’ little spot, no matter what kind, before he’d eat it. And if there was a red splotch on an egg, he’d scrape it off. Finally quit about the food. That’s the kinda guy he was—clean. Used ta dress up Sundays even when he wasn’t going no place, put on a necktie even, and then set in the bunk house.”
　　“I ain’t so sure,” said George skeptically. “What did you say he quit for?”
　　The old man put the yellow can in his pocket, and he rubbed his bristly white whiskers with his knuckles. “Why . . . . he . . . . just quit, the way a guy will. Says it was the food. Just wanted to move. Didn’t give no other reason but the food. Just says ‘gimme my time’ one night, the way any guy would.”
　　George lifted his tick and looked underneath it. He leaned over and inspected the sacking closely. Immediately Lennie got up and did the same with his bed. Finally George seemed satisfied. He unrolled his bindle and put things on the shelf, his razor and bar of soap, his comb and bottle of pills, his liniment and leather wristband. Then he made his bed up neatly with blankets. The old man said, “I guess the boss’ll be out here in a minute. He was sure burned when you wasn’t here this morning. Come right in when we was eatin’ breakfast and says, ‘Where the hell’s them new men?’ An’ he give the stable buck hell, too.”
　　George patted a wrinkle out of his bed, and sat down. “Give the stable buck hell?” he asked.
　　“Sure. Ya see the stable buck’s a nigger.”
　　“Nigger, huh?”
　　“Yeah. Nice fella too. Got a crooked back where a horse kicked him. The boss gives him hell when he’s mad. But the stable buck don’t give a damn about that. He reads a lot. Got books in his room.”
　　“What kind of a guy is the boss?” George asked.
　　“Well, he’s a pretty nice fella. Gets pretty mad sometimes, but he’s pretty nice. Tell ya what—know what he done Christmas? Brang a gallon of whisky right in here and says, ‘Drink hearty, boys. Christmas comes but once a year.’”
　　“The hell he did! Whole gallon?”
　　“Yes sir. Jesus, we had fun. They let the nigger come in that night. Little skinner name of Smitty took after the nigger. Done pretty good, too. The guys wouldn’t let him use his feet, so the nigger got him. If he coulda used his feet, Smitty says he woulda killed the nigger. The guys said on account of the nigger’s got a crooked back, Smitty can’t use his feet.” He paused in relish of the memory. “After that the guys went into Soledad and raised hell. I didn’t go in there. I ain’t got the poop no more.”
　　Lennie was just finishing making his bed. The wooden latch raised again and the door opened. A little stocky man stood in the open doorway. He wore blue jean trousers, a flannel shirt, a black, unbuttoned vest and a black coat. His thumbs were stuck in his belt, on each side of a square steel buckle. On his head was a soiled brown Stetson hat, and he wore high-heeled boots and spurs to prove he was not a laboring man.
　　The old swamper looked quickly at him, and then shuffled to the door rubbing his whiskers with his knuckles as he went. “Them guys just come,” he said, and shuffled past the boss and out the door.
　　The boss stepped into the room with the short, quick steps of a fat-legged man. “I wrote Murray and Ready I wanted two men this morning. You got your work slips?” George reached into his pocket and produced the slips and handed them to the boss. “It wasn’t Murray and Ready’s fault. Says right here on the slip that you was to be here for work this morning.”
　　George looked down at his feet. “Bus driver give us a bum steer,” he said. “We hadda walk ten miles. Says we was here when we wasn’t. We couldn’t get no rides in the morning.”
　　The boss squinted his eyes. “Well, I had to send out the grain teams short two buckers. Won’t do any good to go out now till after dinner.” He pulled his time book out of his pocket and opened it where a pencil was stuck between the leaves. George scowled meaningfully at Lennie, and Lennie nodded to show that he understood. The boss licked his pencil. “What’s your name?”
　　“George Milton.”
　　“And what’s yours?”
　　George said, “His name’s Lennie Small.”
　　The names were entered in the book. “Le’s see, this is the twentieth, noon the twentieth.” He closed the book. “Where you boys been working?”
　　“Up around Weed,” said George.
　　“You, too?” to Lennie.
　　“Yeah, him too,” said George.
　　The boss pointed a playful finger at Lennie. “He ain’t much of a talker, is he?”
　　“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 having forgotten.
　　The boss said suddenly, “Listen, Small!” Lennie raised his head. “What can you do?”
　　In a panic, Lennie looked at George for help. “He can do anything you tell him,” said George. “He’s a good skinner. He can rassel grain bags, drive a cultivator. He can do anything. Just give him a try.”
　　The boss turned on George. “Then why don’t you let him answer? What you trying to put over?”
　　George broke in loudly, “Oh! I ain’t saying he’s bright. He ain’t. But I say he’s a God damn good worker. He can put up a four hundred pound bale.”
　　The boss deliberately put the little book in his pocket. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and squinted one eye nearly closed. “Say—what you sellin’?”
　　“Huh?”
　　“I said what stake you got in this guy? You takin’ his pay away from him?”
　　“No, ‘course I ain’t. Why ya think I’m sellin’ him out?”
　　“Well, I never seen one guy take so much trouble for another guy. I just like to know what your interest is.”
　　George said, “He’s my . . . . cousin. I told his old lady I’d take care of him. He got kicked in the head by a horse when he was a kid. He’s awright. Just ain’t bright. But he can do anything you tell him.”
　　The boss turned half away. “Well, God knows he don’t need any brains to buck barley bags. But don’t you try to put nothing over, Milton. I got my eye on you. Why’d you quit in Weed?”
　　“Job was done,” said George promptly.
　　“What kinda job?” 
　　“We . . . . we was diggin’ a cesspool.”
　　“All right. But don’t try to put nothing over, ‘cause you can’t get away with nothing. I seen wise guys before. Go on out with the grain teams after dinner. They’re pickin’ up barley at the threshing machine. Go out with Slim’s team.”
　　“Slim?”
　　“Yeah. Big tall skinner. You’ll see him at dinner.” He turned abruptly and went to the door, but before he went out he turned and looked for a long moment at the two men.
　　When the sound of his footsteps had died away, George turned on Lennie. “So you wasn’t gonna say a word. You was gonna leave your big flapper shut and leave me do the talkin’. Damn near lost us the job.”
　　Lennie stared hopelessly at his hands. “I forgot, George.”
　　“Yeah, you forgot. You always forget, an’ I got to talk you out of it.” He sat down heavily on the bunk. “Now he’s got his eye on us. Now we got to be careful and not make no slips. You keep your big flapper shut after this.” He fell morosely silent.
　　“George.”
　　“What you want now?”
　　“I wasn’t kicked in the head with no horse, was I, George?”
　　“Be a damn good thing if you was,” George said viciously. “Save ever’body a hell of a lot of trouble.”
　　“You said I was your cousin, George.”
　　“Well, that was a lie. An’ I’m damn glad it was. If I was a relative of yours I’d shoot myself.” He stopped suddenly, stepped to the open front door and peered out. “Say, what the hell you doin’ listenin’?”
　　The old man came slowly into the room. He had his broom in his hand. And at his heels there walked a dragfooted sheepdog, gray of muzzle, and with pale, blind old eyes. The dog struggled lamely to the side of the room and lay down, grunting softly to himself and licking his grizzled, moth-eaten coat. The swamper watched him until he was settled. “I wasn’t listenin’. I was jus’ standin’ in the shade a minute scratchin’ my dog. I jus’ now finished swampin’ out the wash house.”
　　“You was pokin’ your big ears into our business,” George said. “I don’t like nobody to get nosey.”
　　The old man looked uneasily from George to Lennie, and then back. “I jus’ come there,” he said. “I didn’t hear nothing you guys was sayin’. I ain’t interested in nothing you was sayin’. A guy on a ranch don’t never listen nor he don’t ast no questions.”
　　“Damn right he don’t,” said George, slightly mollified, “not if he wants to stay workin’ long.” But he was reassured by the swamper’s defense. “Come on in and set down a minute,” he said. “That’s a hell of an old dog.”
　　“Yeah. I had ‘im ever since he was a pup. God, he was a good sheepdog when he was younger.” He stood his broom against the wall and he rubbed his white bristled cheek with his knuckles. “How’d you like the boss?” he asked.
　　“Pretty good. Seemed awright.”
　　“He’s a nice fella,” the swamper agreed. “You got to take him right.”
　　At that moment a young man came into the bunk house; a thin young man with a brown face, with brown eyes and a head of tightly curled hair. He wore a work glove on his left hand, and, like the boss, he wore high-heeled boots. “Seen my old man?” he asked.
　　The swamper said, “He was here jus’ a minute ago, Curley. Went over to the cook house, I think.”
　　“I’ll try to catch him,” said Curley. His eyes passed over the new men and he stopped. He glanced coldly at George and then at Lennie. His arms gradually bent at the elbows and his hands closed into fists. He stiffened and went into a slight crouch. His glance was at once calculating and pugnacious. Lennie squirmed under the look and shifted his feet nervously. Curley stepped gingerly close to him. “You the new guys the old man was waitin’ for?”
　　“We just come in,” said George.
　　“Let the big guy talk.”
　　Lennie twisted with embarrassment.
　　George said, “S’pose he don’t want to talk?”
　　Curley lashed his body around. “By Christ, he’s gotta talk when he’s spoke to. What the hell are you gettin’ into it for?”
　　“We travel together,” said George coldly.
　　“Oh, so it’s that way.”
　　George was tense, and motionless. “Yeah, it’s that way.”
　　Lennie was looking helplessly to George for instruction.
　　“An’ you won’t let the big guy talk, is that it?”
　　“He can talk if he wants to tell you anything.” He nodded slightly to Lennie.
　　“We jus’ come in,” said Lennie softly.
　　Curley stared levelly at him. “Well, nex’ time you answer when you’re spoke to.” He turned toward the door and walked out, and his elbows were still bent out a little.
　　George watched him go, and then he turned back to the swamper. “Say, what the hell’s he got on his shoulder? Lennie didn’t do nothing to him.”
　　The old man looked cautiously at the door to make sure no one was listening. “That’s the boss’s son,” he said quietly. “Curley’s pretty handy. He done quite a bit in the ring. He’s a lightweight, and he’s handy.”
　　“Well, let him be handy,” said George. “He don’t have to take after Lennie. Lennie didn’t do nothing to him. What’s he got against Lennie?”
　　The swamper considered . . . . “Well . . . . tell you what. Curley’s like alot of little guys. He hates big guys. He’s alla time picking scraps with big guys. Kind of like he’s mad at ‘em because he ain’t a big guy. You seen little guys like that, ain’t you? Always scrappy?”
　　“Sure,” said George. “I seen plenty tough little guys. But this Curley better not make no mistakes about Lennie. Lennie ain’t handy, but this Curley punk is gonna get hurt if he messes around with Lennie.”
　　“Well, Curley’s pretty handy,” the swamper said skeptically. “Never did seem right to me. S’pose Curley jumps a big guy an’ licks him. Ever’body says what a game guy Curley is. And s’pose he does the same thing and gets licked. Then ever’body says the big guy oughtta pick somebody his own size, and maybe they gang up on the big guy. Never did seem right to me. Seems like Curley ain’t givin’ nobody a chance.”
　　George was watching the door. He said ominously, “Well, he better watch out for Lennie. Lennie ain’t no fighter, but Lennie’s strong and quick and Lennie don’t know no rules.” He walked to the square table and sat down on one of the boxes. He gathered some of the cards together and shuffled them.
　　The old man sat down on another box. “Don’t tell Curley I said none of this. He’d slough me. He just don’t give a damn. Won’t ever get canned ‘cause his old man’s the boss.”
　　George cut the cards and began turning them over, looking at each one and throwing it down on a pile. He said, “This guy Curley sounds like a son-of-a-bitch to me. I don’t like mean little guys.”
　　“Seems to me like he’s worse lately,” said the swamper. “He got married a couple of weeks ago. Wife lives over in the boss’s house. Seems like Curley is cockier’n ever since he got married.”
　　George grunted, “Maybe he’s showin’ off for his wife.”
　　The swamper warmed to his gossip. “You seen that glove on his left hand?”
　　“Yeah. I seen it.”
　　“Well, that glove’s fulla vaseline.”
　　“Vaseline? What the hell for?”
　　“Well, I tell ya what—Curley says he’s keepin’ that hand soft for his wife.”
　　George studied the cards absorbedly. “That’s a dirty thing to tell around,” he said.
　　The old man was reassured. He had drawn a derogatory statement from George. He felt safe now, and he spoke more confidently. “Wait’ll you see Curley’s wife.”
　　George cut the cards again and put out a solitaire lay, slowly and deliberately. “Purty?” he asked casually.
　　“Yeah. Purty . . . . but—”
　　George studied his cards. “But what?”
　　“Well—she got the eye.”
　　“Yeah? Married two weeks and got the eye? Maybe that’s why Curley’s pants is full of ants.”
　　“I seen her give Slim the eye. Slim’s a jerkline skinner. Hell of a nice fella. Slim don’t need to wear no high-heeled boots on a grain team. I seen her give Slim the eye. Curley never seen it. An’ I seen her give Carlson the eye.”
　　George pretended a lack of interest. “Looks like we was gonna have fun.”
　　The swamper stood up from his box. “Know what I think?” George did not answer. “Well, I think Curley’s married . . . . a tart.”
　　“He ain’t the first,” said George. “There’s plenty done that.”
　　The old man moved toward the door, and his ancient dog lifted his head and peered about, and then got painfully to his feet to follow. “I gotta be settin’ out the wash basins for the guys. The teams’ll be in before long. You guys gonna buck barley?”
　　“Yeah.”
　　“You won’t tell Curley nothing I said?”
　　“Hell no.”
　　“Well, you look her over, mister. You see if she ain’t a tart.” He stepped out the door into the brilliant sunshine.
　　George laid down his cards thoughtfully, turned his piles of three. He built four clubs on his ace pile. The sun square was on the floor now, and the flies whipped through it like sparks. A sound of jingling harness and the croak of heavy-laden axles sounded from outside. From the distance came a clear call. “Stable buck—ooh, sta-able buck!” And then, “Where the hell is that God damn nigger?”
　　George stared at his solitaire lay, and then he flounced the cards together and turned around to Lennie. Lennie was lying down on the bunk watching him.
　　“Look, Lennie! This here ain’t no setup. I’m scared. You gonna have trouble with that Curley guy. I seen that kind before. He was kinda feelin’ you out. He figures he’s got you scared and he’s gonna take a sock at you the first chance he gets.”
　　Lennie’s eyes were frightened. “I don’t want no trouble,” he said plaintively. “Don’t let him sock me, George.”
　　George got up and went over to Lennie’s bunk and sat down on it. “I hate that kinda bastard,” he said. “I seen plenty of ‘em. Like the old guy says, Curley don’t take no chances. He always wins.” He thought for a moment. “If he tangles with you, Lennie, we’re gonna get the can. Don’t make no mistake about that. He’s the boss’s son. Look, Lennie. You try to keep away from him, will you? Don’t never speak to him. If he comes in here you move clear to the other side of the room. Will you do that, Lennie?”
　　“I don’t want no trouble,” Lennie mourned. “I never done nothing to him.”
　　“Well, that won’t do you no good if Curley wants to plug himself up for a fighter. Just don’t have nothing to do with him. Will you remember?”
　　“Sure, George. I ain’t gonna say a word.”
　　The sound of the approaching grain teams was louder, thud of big hooves on hard ground, drag of brakes and the jingle of trace chains. Men were calling back and forth from the teams. George, sitting on the bunk beside Lennie, frowned as he thought. Lennie asked timidly, “You ain’t mad, George?”
　　“I ain’t mad at you. I’m mad at this here Curley bastard. I hoped we was gonna get a little stake together—maybe a hundred dollars.” His tone grew decisive. “You keep away from Curley, Lennie.”
　　“Sure I will, George. I won’t say a word.”
　　“Don’t let him pull you in—but—if the son-of-a-bitch socks you—let ‘im have it.”
　　“Let ‘im have what, George?”
　　“Never mind, never mind. I’ll tell you when. I hate that kind of a guy. Look, Lennie, if you get in any kind of trouble, you remember what I told you to do?”
　　Lennie raised up on his elbow. His face contorted with thought. Then his eyes moved sadly to George’s face. “If I get in any trouble, you ain’t gonna let me tend the rabbits.”
　　“That’s not what I meant. You remember where we slep’ last night? Down by the river?”
　　“Yeah. I remember. Oh, sure I remember! I go there an’ hide in the brush.”
　　“Hide till I come for you. Don’t let nobody see you. Hide in the brush by the river. Say that over.”
　　“Hide in the brush by the river, down in the brush by the river.”
　　“If you get in trouble.”
　　“If I get in trouble.”
　　A brake screeched outside. A call came, “Stable—buck. Oh! Sta-able buck.”
　　George said, “Say it over to yourself, Lennie, so you won’t forget it.”
　　Both men glanced up, for the rectangle of sunshine in the doorway was cut off. A girl was standing there looking in. She had full, rouged lips and wide-spaced eyes, heavily made up. Her fingernails were red. Her hair hung in little rolled clusters, like sausages. She wore a cotton house dress and red mules, on the insteps of which were little bouquets of red ostrich feathers. “I’m lookin’ for Curley,” she said. Her voice had a nasal, brittle quality.
　　George looked away from her and then back. “He was in here a minute ago, but he went.”
　　“Oh!” She put her hands behind her back and leaned against the door frame so that her body was thrown forward. “You’re the new fellas that just come, ain’t ya?”
　　“Yeah.”
　　Lennie’s eyes moved down over her body, and though she did not seem to be looking at Lennie she bridled a little. She looked at her fingernails. “Sometimes Curley’s in here,” she explained. 
　　George said brusquely. “Well he ain’t now.”
　　“If he ain’t, I guess I better look some place else,” she said playfully.
　　Lennie watched her, fascinated. George said, “If I see him, I’ll pass the word you was looking for him.”
　　She smiled archly and twitched her body. “Nobody can’t blame a person for lookin’,” she said. There were footsteps behind her, going by. She turned her head. “Hi, Slim,” she said.
　　Slim’s voice came through the door. “Hi, Good-lookin’.”
　　“I’m tryin’ to find Curley, Slim.”
　　“Well, you ain’t tryin’ very hard. I seen him goin’ in your house.”
　　She was suddenly apprehensive. “’Bye, boys,” she called into the bunk house, and she hurried away.
　　George looked around at Lennie. “Jesus, what a tramp,” he said. “So that’s what Curley picks for a wife.”
　　“She’s purty,” said Lennie defensively.
　　“Yeah, and she’s sure hidin’ it. Curley got his work ahead of him. Bet she’d clear out for twenty bucks.”
　　Lennie still stared at the doorway where she had been. “Gosh, she was purty.” He smiled admiringly. George looked quickly down at him and then he took him by an ear and shook him. 
　　“Listen to me, you crazy bastard,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you even take a look at that bitch. I don’t care what she says and what she does. I seen ‘em poison before, but I never seen no piece of jail bait worse than her. You leave her be.”
　　Lennie tried to disengage his ear. “I never done nothing, George.”
　　“No, you never. But when she was standin’ in the doorway showin’ her legs, you wasn’t lookin’ the other way, neither.”
　　“I never meant no harm, George. Honest I never.”
　　“Well, you keep away from her, cause she’s a rattrap if I ever seen one. You let Curley take the rap. He let himself in for it. Glove fulla vaseline,” George said disgustedly. “An’ I bet he’s eatin’ raw eggs and writin’ to the patent medicine houses.”
　　Lennie cried out suddenly—“I don’t like this place, George. This ain’t no good place. I wanna get outa here.”
　　“We gotta keep it till we get a stake. We can’t help it, Lennie. We’ll get out jus’ as soon as we can. I don’t like it no better than you do.” He went back to the table and set out a new solitaire hand. “No, I don’t like it,” he said. “For two bits I’d shove out of here. If we can get jus’ a few dollars in the poke we’ll shove off and go up the American River and pan gold. We can make maybe a couple of dollars a day there, and we might hit a pocket.”
　　Lennie leaned eagerly toward him. “Le’s go, George. Le’s get outa here. It’s mean here.”
　　“We gotta stay,” George said shortly. “Shut up now. The guys’ll becomin’ in.”
　　From the washroom nearby came the sound of running water and rattling basins. George studied the cards. “Maybe we oughtta wash up,” he said. “But we ain’t done nothing to get dirty.”
　　A tall man stood in the doorway. He held a crushed Stetson hat under his arm while he combed his long, black, damp hair straight back. Like the others he wore blue jeans and a short denim jacket. When he had finished combing his hair he moved into the room, and he moved with a majesty achieved only by royalty and master craftsmen. He was a jerkline skinner, the prince of the ranch, capable of driving ten, sixteen, even twenty mules with a single line to the leaders. He was capable of killing a fly on the wheeler’s butt with a bull whip without touching the mule. There was a gravity in his manner and a quiet so profound that all talk stopped when he spoke. His authority was so great that his word was taken on any subject, be it politics or love. This was Slim, the jerkline skinner. His hatchet face was ageless. He might have been thirty-five or fifty. His ear heard more than was said to him, and his slow speech had overtones not of thought, but of understanding beyond thought. His hands, large and lean, were as delicate in their action as those of a temple dancer.
　　He smoothed out his crushed hat, creased it in the middle and put it on. He looked kindly at the two in the bunk house. “It’s brighter’n a bitch outside,” he said gently. “Can’t hardly see nothing in here. You the new guys?”
　　“Just come,” said George.
　　“Gonna buck barley?”
　　“That’s what the boss says.”
　　Slim sat down on a box across the table from George. He studied the solitaire hand that was upside down to him. “Hope you get on my team,” he said. His voice was very gentle. “I gotta pair of punks on my team that don’t know a barley bag from a blue ball. You guys ever bucked any barley?”
　　“Hell, yes,” said George. “I ain’t nothing to scream about, but that big bastard there can put up more grain alone than most pairs can.”
　　Lennie, who had been following the conversation back and forth with his eyes, smiled complacently at the compliment. Slim looked approvingly at George for having given the compliment. He leaned over the table and snapped the corner of a loose card. “You guys travel around together?” His tone was friendly. It invited confidence without demanding it.
　　“Sure,” said George. “We kinda look after each other.” He indicated Lennie with his thumb. “He ain’t bright. Hell of a good worker, though. Hell of a nice fella, but he ain’t bright. I’ve knew him for a long time.”
　　Slim looked through George and beyond him. “Ain’t many guys travel around together,” he mused. “I don’t know why. Maybe ever’body in the whole damn world is scared of each other.”
　　“It’s a lot nicer to go around with a guy you know,” said George.
　　A powerful, big-stomached man came into the bunk house. His head still dripped water from the scrubbing and dousing. “Hi, Slim,” he said, and then stopped and stared at George and Lennie.
　　“These guys jus’ come,” said Slim by way of introduction.
　　“Glad ta meet ya,” the big man said. “My name’s Carlson.”
　　“I’m George Milton. This here’s Lennie Small.”
　　“Glad ta meet ya,” Carlson said again. “He ain’t very small.” He chuckled softly at his joke. “Ain’t small at all,” he repeated. “Meant to ask you, Slim—how’s your bitch? I seen she wasn’t under your wagon this morning.”
　　“She slang her pups last night,” said Slim. “Nine of ‘em. I drowned four of ‘em right off. She couldn’t feed that many.”
　　“Got five left, huh?”
　　“Yeah, five. I kept the biggest.”
　　“What kinda dogs you think they’re gonna be?”
　　“I dunno,” said Slim. “Some kinda shepherds, I guess. That’s the most kind I seen around here when she was in heat.”
　　Carlson went on, “Got five pups, huh. Gonna keep all of ‘em?” 
　　“I dunno. Have to keep ‘em a while so they can drink Lulu’s milk.”
　　Carlson said thoughtfully, “Well, looka here, Slim. I been thinkin’. That dog of Candy’s is so God damn old he can’t hardly walk. Stinks like hell, too. Ever’ time he comes into the bunk house I can smell him for two, three days. Why’n’t you get Candy to shoot his old dog and give him one of the pups to raise up? I can smell that dog a mile away. Got no teeth, damn near blind, can’t eat. Candy feeds him milk. He can’t chew nothing else.”
　　George had been staring intently at Slim. Suddenly a triangle began to ring outside, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until the beat of it disappeared into one ringing sound. It stopped as suddenly as it had started.
　　“There she goes,” said Carlson.
　　Outside, there was a burst of voices as a group of men went by.
　　Slim stood up slowly and with dignity. “You guys better come on while they’s still something to eat. Won’t be nothing left in a couple of minutes.”
　　Carlson stepped back to let Slim precede him, and then the two of them went out the door.
　　Lennie was watching George excitedly. George rumpled his cards into a messy pile. “Yeah!” George said, “I heard him, Lennie. I’ll ask him.”
　　“A brown and white one,” Lennie cried excitedly.
　　“Come on. Le’s get dinner. I don’t know whether he got a brown and white one.”
　　Lennie didn’t move from his bunk. “You ask him right away, George, so he won’t kill no more of ‘em.”
　　“Sure. Come on now, get up on your feet.”
　　Lennie rolled off his bunk and stood up, and the two of them started for the door. Just as they reached it, Curley bounced in.
　　“You seen a girl around here?” he demanded angrily.
　　George said coldly. “’Bout half an hour ago maybe.”
　　“Well what the hell was she doin’?”
　　George stood still, watching the angry little man. He said insultingly, “She said—she was lookin’ for you.”
　　Curley seemed really to see George for the first time. His eyes flashed over George, took in his height, measured his reach, looked at his trim middle. “Well, which way’d she go?” he demanded at last.
　　“I dunno,” said George. “I didn’ watch her go.”
　　Curley scowled at him, and turning, hurried out the door.
　　George said, “Ya know, Lennie, I’m scared I’m gonna tangle with that bastard myself. I hate his guts. Jesus Christ! Come on. They won’t be a damn thing left to eat.”
　　They went out the door. The sunshine lay in a thin line under the window. From a distance there could be heard a rattle of dishes.
　　After a moment the ancient dog walked lamely in through the open door. He gazed about with mild, half-blind eyes. He sniffed, and then lay down and put his head between his paws. Curley popped into the doorway again and stood looking into the room. The dog raised his head, but when Curley jerked out, the grizzled head sank to the floor again.
第 二 章
工人宿舍是一间矩形的、长长的屋子。里边，地板没有上油漆。墙壁是刷白了的。三面墙上都开有一个方形的小窗户，第四面有一道结实的上面有木闩的门。八个铺位靠墙摆着，五个是铺上了毛毡的，剩下的三个看去只是麦杆裹上麻布的垫子。每个铺位上头的壁上都钉牢一只苹果箱，箱子开口的那一面向外并做成两格，让睡这个铺位的人放置他的私人物品。这些格子里经常摆满了洗衣枧、剃刀、滑石粉之类的零星物件，还有那些农场庄稼人爱读的、私心信仰并能从中得到乐趣的西部杂志。格子里还塞满了各种各样的小药水瓶，药，梳子；几条领带被挂在苹果箱侧的铁钉上。靠近一扇墙旁，有一座烟囱直从天花板上穿过的生铁火炉。一张大方桌在屋子正中摆着，桌面上是一堆乱七八糟的扑克牌，桌子四周有用苹果箱叠成的专供玩牌的人们坐的凳子。
大概早上十点钟的时候，透过一扇窗，太阳投进一道充满了尘埃的光柱来，一队队象流星般的苍蝇在这光柱中穿进来，又穿出去。
木门闩给拉开了。门呀的一声打开，走进来一个高个子、肩膊斜倾的老头。他穿一身蓝斜纹布衣服，一个很大的抹地拖把在他的左手的手中拿着。跟在他后面进来的是佐治，佐治后面是李奈。
“昨天夜里经理在等着他们哩，”老头说。“他可真不乐呢，你们没有来，今早上不了工。”他伸出右臂指着那两个靠近火炉的铺位说，“这两个铺你们可以睡。”这时，他的袖口掀了起来，在右臂下露出一截木头般的手腕，却没有手。
佐治走了过去，把他的包捆抛在那床枯麦杆褥垫上面。他朝上头的箱格子看了看，从里面捡出一个黄色小罐来。“哦，瞧，这是个什么东西？”
老头说：“我不知道。”
“这上面写着：‘特效灭虱药，蟑螂及一切疥虫，无不嗅之立毙。’你分给我们什么样的鸟床位？嘿！这些裤裆里头的兔子我们用不着。”
老打杂工把拖把紧紧地夹在了右边有腋窝下，这才腾出了左手去拿那小罐子。他细心地端详了那上面的仿单。“告诉你吧，”终于他开口了，“最后一个从这个铺位离开的是个铁工———一个真好的角儿，挺爱干净。你若见到他包管你会喜欢他。那怕是吃过东西他也总要洗手的。”
“那么这发瘟药他要来干吗的？”佐治有点冒火了，问。李奈的包捆被他搁到相邻的铺位上，他坐了下来，张开口，在守候着佐治。
“告诉你这是怎么回事吧，”老打杂工说。“这个铁工———名叫威泰———是一种这样的角色，那怕半只臭虫也没有，他也会把药粉撒得到处都是———那是为了保险，明白吗？告诉你他是怎么个脾性吧……每餐坐上桌子，总要把热呼呼的山芋去了皮，剥得光净，要是有一个小斑点给他找了出来，不管什么样的，非撷了去是不吃的；有点在鸡蛋上，也必定要抹了去。终归还是为了伙食跑掉了。他是这么一种角儿———干净。到礼拜天，就算是哪儿也不去，也把自己打扮起来，连领带也扎得好好的，蹲在寝室里头。”
“我不大相信，”佐治表示怀疑说。“你说他是为了什么缘故跑掉的呀？”
黄药罐被老头塞进了衣袋里，然后他将用指节骨他的粗硬的白胡须捋了捋。“呃……他……跑掉，总得跑掉的，那不过象每个角儿一样。说是为了伙食。总之要走就是了。别的理由不去讲，总是讲伙食。在一个夜里说了句，‘把工钱算给我吧’，每个角儿都是这么着的。”
佐治把他床上的褥套揭起，看那下面。他弯下腰来，仔细地检查了一遍褥套。李奈突地站起来，学着佐治的样，将他自己的铺也查看了一遍。终于，看来佐治是放心了。他将他的包捆打开，把东西放到箱格里去，梳子呀，枧呀，剃刀呀，还有各种药丸的瓶子，皮护腕，治风湿用的擦剂。没一阵子工夫，他把毯子铺了上去，把他的床铺搞得很舒齐。那老头说：“我猜不出一分钟经理就要来了。他可真急得发火，你们今早还没到。我们吃着早饭他冲了进来，说：‘那两个新来的人在什么地方？’那喂马的黑鬼还给他臭骂了一顿呢。”
佐治将他床上的一条皱纹拨平，坐了下去。“喂马的黑鬼给臭骂一顿？”他问。
“那还用说。这马房长工是个黑人，你知道。”
“呃，黑人？”
“是的。人可是个很好的人。被马踢过，成了个驼子。一发火经理总拿他出气。骂的可粗鲁哩。但马房长工从来都不吱声。他看很多书。有许多的书呢他房里。”
“经理这人是怎么样的？”佐治问。
“哦，他人蛮好。有时蛮爱气得发疯似的，但人蛮好。告诉你吧———圣诞节那天他怎样做的你知道吗？带了一加仑威士忌到这儿来，说道，‘开怀地喝吧！小子们，圣诞节一年只逢得着一次啊。’”
“可他妈的真行。有一加仑吗？”
“有的，先生。主啊，我们可真乐。这一晚，他们让那黑鬼到这宿舍里来。名字叫斯米特的小去皮工跟黑鬼斗拳。打得蛮好的。大家不许斯米特用脚，这样黑鬼才打赢他。斯米特说要是许可用脚，他准能把黑鬼打死。众人说斯米特不能用脚，看黑鬼是个驼子。”他停了下来，整个人沉浸在对往事的回忆之中。“大伙儿玩完这个后，便上梭利戴德去，在那儿耍了个痛快。我没和大伙一块去。这一套我玩不来了。”
这时李奈才把他的床铺好。木门闩又被拉了起来，门给打开了。门口站着一个身材矮小，长得却很胖的人。他穿的是法兰尼绒的衬衣，蓝斜纹衣袄，一件黑色的、钮扣没有扣起来的背心，还有一件黑外套。他的两只拇指插入皮带的方形铜扣的两旁。头上戴着一顶满是灰尘的褐色斯脱逊帽，脚穿高跟皮鞋，外加踢马刺，可见他不是个做工的人。
老打杂工倏地瞥了他一眼，就瑟缩地退到门口，边走边用手指节骨将他的胡须捋着。“他们两个才刚到哩，”说着，他从经理身边闪过，走出了门。
经理踱进屋来，那是个胖子，迈着急促的短步。“我写信给莫莱吕岱公司说今天早晨我要两个人。上工卡你们有吗？”佐治把手伸到衣袋里，把那两张上工证掏了出来交给经理。“这不是莫莱吕岱公司的错。限你们今天一早到工卡片上写明了的。”
佐治垂下眼睛来瞧着自己的脚。“可是司机跟我们捣蛋，”他说。“我们走了足有十哩的路。他说是到了，谁知道不是那么回事。今天早上我们又搭不到车。”
经理眯了一下眼睛，说：“好吧，我派你们到缺两个肩工的割麦队里去就是。吃过中饭再说，现在不忙着去。”他将工时簿从口袋里掏出来，照着由插在里头的那枝铅笔隔成的裂缝把工时簿打开。佐治故意对李奈皱了皱眉头，李奈点点头，表示他知道。经理舐了舐铅笔。“你叫什么名字？”
“佐治?米尔东。”
“你呢？”
“他叫李奈?史莫尔。”佐治说。
他们的名字被记在了本子上。“我们得讲好，今天是二十号，二十号中午。”他合起笔记本。“你们两个以前在什么地方干过活？”
“韦地一带都干过”，佐治说。
对李奈。“你也是吗？”
佐治说：“是，他也是。”
经理很俏皮地指着李奈。“他不太会说话是吧？”
“是的，不太会，不过他可真他妈的是不呱呱叫的雇工。跟公牛一样结实。”
李奈自个儿笑了起来。“跟公牛一样结实，”他重复了一句。
佐治瞅了他一眼，李奈，很难为情地把头垂了下去，他竟忘了呀。
突然经理说道：“喂，李奈！”李奈把头抬起来。“你能干些什么？”
李奈慌张了起来，呆看着佐治求救。“他都干得了，无论你叫他干什么。”佐治说。“他是个很好的马车工。他会开垦土机，能背麦袋。只要你让他去干。什么都能干。”
经理把脸转过来向着佐治。“那为什么你不让他自己来回答？你想搞什么鬼把戏？”
佐治大声嚷了起来。“啊！我没说他是个精佻的人。他不是。我只说他是个呱呱叫的雇工。四百磅的大包他都扛得起来。”
经理把笔记本从容地放进口袋里。两只拇指扣在皮带上，一只眼睛眯得快要合起来了。“喂，你在卖些什么？”
“呃？”
“我说，从这个人身上你揩到些什么油水？他的工钱是给你拿去的吧？”
“不。当然我不会那样。你怎么会这样想，我是出卖他？”
“唔，一个人肯替别人担这么多的麻烦我从来都没见过。我想知道究竟你得到了些什么样的好处。”
佐治说：“他是我的……表弟。我答应过他母亲说我会看顾他。他孩童时脑袋被马踢过一脚。他人好，只是不精佻。但不管你叫他干什么，他都能。”
经理将身子扭转过去想走了。“好吧，反正背麦袋用不着他什么脑子的。可是米尔东，你别想捣蛋。我会盯牢你的。你们是因为什么缘故从韦地离开的？”
“包的工做完了，”不假思索，佐治随口回答说。
“什么工你们包的？”
“我们……呃，我们给人家挖一个粪坑。”
“唔，好。可是你别想捣蛋，你总不能两手空空的走掉的。再怎么聪明的角儿，我也见过。吃过中饭跟刈麦队一起出去吧。他们正忙着要给打麦机送麦捆呢。你们跟施琳那一班出去。”
“施琳？”
“是。一个大个子马车工。你会见到他的，吃中饭时。”经理猝然转身走向门口，但到得门边又转回来，在他们两个身上盯了半天。
等经理的脚步声消失后，佐治转过脸来对李奈说：“你应该一句话也不说。该把你那块厚嘴唇闭上，让我跟他谈。妈的我们的活差点儿就干不成了。”
李奈不知所措地盯着自己的双手。“我忘了，佐治。”
“是啊，你忘了。你总是忘了的，我非得在你耳朵旁边一天到晚喃着不行。”佐治大光其身地坐到自己的床铺上。
“现在我们给他盯牢啦。从现在，此刻起，我们必须处处留神，不给他找出什么岔子来。以后你可得把你那块厚嘴唇闭起来了。”他浸入了一种深沉的缄默之中。
“佐治。”
“你又在叫什么？”
“我的脑袋没给马踢过一脚，不是吗，佐治？”
“要是真有那就好了，”佐治狠心地说。“可以省掉许多该死的麻烦。”
“你说我是你的表弟哩，佐治。”
“呔，那是一个谎。这是一个谎我他妈的高兴。我早一颗子弹把自己打死了，我要是你的亲戚。”突然他停下来，走到门口，探头往外面张望了一下。“喂，他妈的，你在偷听些什么？”
老头子慢步走进房子。他手上拿着拖帚。一匹拖曳着脚步的守羊狗跟在他后面走了进来。灰白色的口鼻，一双黯淡而瞎掉了的眼睛。这条狗吃力地一步一蹩地走到房间边上，躺了下来，汪汪地对自己叫了两声，就伸出舌头舔舐它那花白的、长了虱子的毛皮。老打杂工望着他的狗，直到这狗安顿了下来，才说，“我没有偷听。我只是在门外边站了一会儿工夫，给我的狗搔虱子。我刚把洗衣间打扫完呢。”
“你竖着你那大块耳朵听我们的买卖，”佐治说。“我顶不高兴有人多管闲事。”
老头子很紧张不安地瞧了瞧李奈和佐治，退下去了。“我只是来这里罢了，”他说。“你们两个的话我没有偷听。你们谈什么都和我不相干。一个在农场干活的角儿，永远不要偷听别人的话。也不要问长问短的跟别人唠叨。”
“他要是想活儿干得长久，就该不，”佐治的怒气略为平复了一点。老打杂工的辩解也使他放下了心。“进来坐一会儿吧，”他说。“这真是条够老了的狗。”
“是呀。它还是条小狗的时候，我就养着它了。它是一匹很好的守羊狗呢，在它还不怎么老的时候。”他把拖帚傍在墙边放着，用指节骨摸了摸长满了硬髭的灰白色的腮颊。“你看经理可好吗？”
“挺好的。看来准不坏。”
“你看对了，”打杂工赞同地说。“他是个极好的脚色呢。”
就在这个时候，一个青年人走进宿舍来了；一个长得单薄的青年人，一头紧贴之至的鬈发，茶褐色脸孔，茶褐色的眼睛。他左手上带着一只劳动手套，和经理一样脚上穿着高跟鞋子。“看见我老人家吗？”他问。
老打杂工说：“刚才他还在这儿呢，顾利。到厨房去了吧我想。”
“我去找找看，”顾利说。他一眼瞥见新来的人，于是便站定了不走。他冷冷地瞧了瞧佐治，又瞧了瞧李奈。他两肘向外斜弯，双手紧紧握拳，样子开始变得冷酷，简直像是有点弓起身子要向人扑过来似的。他的眼光登时变成蓄谋挑衅的了。李奈给他盯得忐忑不安起来，两只脚不知所措地抽调着。佐治小心翼翼地走到他面前。他说，“你们就是我老人家一直在等着的新来的人？”
“我们才刚刚到哩，”佐治说。
“让这个大个子说。”
李奈为难得都别扭了起来。
佐治说：“他可能不太想讲话吧？”
猛地顾利将身子耸了一下。“主啊，别人跟他讲话，他总得讲。你他妈的干吗多管闲事？”
“我们是一起来的，”佐治冷冷地说。
“哦，原来这样。”
佐治脸色绷紧了，毫不为之动容。“嗯，就这样。”
李奈无可奈何地瞧着佐治，等他吩咐。
“你不能让这个大个子说话，是不？”
“他如果有话要对你说，自然他就会说的。”他轻轻地对李奈点了点头。
“我们才刚刚到哩，”李奈柔声说。
顾利平视着他。“唔，下次有人跟你讲话，你可得回答。”他转过身，朝门口走了过去，出去了，两肘仍带点弯曲。
看得他去远，佐治将脸转过来对老打杂工说：“喂，他撞的什么鬼，耍的什么威风？李奈又没犯着他什么。”
老头子走到门口仔细地看了看，见没人在偷听，这才不动声色地说，“他是经理的儿子，人蛮精灵的。就是在拳击场上，也能来得两下子呢。他是轻量级，可灵巧呢。”
“唔，让他灵巧去好了，”佐治说。“他犯不着来找上李奈。李奈又没犯着他什么。干吗他要跟李奈作对？”
沉思了一会儿后，老打杂工说：“是———告诉你吧。顾利跟许多生得矮小脚色一样，他恨大个子，没有什么时候不跟大个子闹别扭的。因为自己不是大个子，所以一见到他们他就生气。这种矮小脚色你见过吧，常常寻事闹的有没有？”
“嗯，”佐治说。十分霸道的矮小的脚色我也见过一些。可是最好这个顾利不要跟李奈找麻烦。李奈是不精灵，可要是跟他闹翻了脸，顾利这段朽木头准会吃痛的。”
“唔，顾利是蛮灵巧的，”对佐治的话打杂工有所怀疑，说“我总觉得不公平。顾利要是和一个大个子打架打赢了，人们都说顾利是个多厉害的拳师。可顾利要是输了呢，人们都说大个子应该找个头和他一样的人交手，甚至人们会聚在一起，把大个子狠揍一顿。我总觉得不公平。顾利看来总不给什么机会给别人似的。”
佐治戒备地望着门口。他预示恶兆地说：“唔，最好他不来惹李奈。李奈不是什么拳师，但他手快，有力，而且什么拳击规则李奈是不懂的。”他走到方桌旁边，在一个苹果箱上坐下，把一把扑克牌抓过来叠齐，把牌洗了一过。
老头在另一只苹果箱上坐下。“我讲这些话可别跟顾利说。他会把我揍死的。揍死了我他也不会放在心上，只会把这当个鸟毛。人们不会把他撵走，因为他父亲是经理呀。”
佐治倒了倒牌，便一张一张地将它们翻了过来，每张端详上一会儿，然后把它们丢开去，积成了一堆。他说：“依我看顾利这家伙讲起话来，声音简直象个母狼儿子发出来的。下流的矮小家伙我可不喜欢。”
“依我看来，他这些日子来才变得更坏了，”老打杂工说。“两个星期前他才结的婚。老婆就住在经理的房子里。结婚之后，似乎顾利比他过去一向来更加横霸了。”
佐治粗声说：“也许是想夸耀夸耀自己，给老婆瞧吧。”
打杂工越说越起劲了。“他左手上戴的手套你看见了吗？”
“唔，我看见了。”
“涂满了凡士林那只手套里头。”
“凡士林？涂那个干什么？”
“哈，告诉你吧，顾利说他必须把他的手润着，好让它光滑些，给老婆玩哪。”
佐治正在出神地察看着纸牌。“嗬，这话真是讲出来也嫌脏呢。”他说。
老头放心了，佐治已经有一句坏话给他引出来了。现在他感到安全了，就越发放胆地讲起来。“等着吧，顾利老婆你们总要见到的。”
佐治将牌再次倒了倒，从容地慢慢地翻出一手明牌来。“漂亮吗？”他不注意地问道。
“嗯。漂亮……不过……”
佐治看着牌。“不过什么？”
“呃———她吊膀子。”
“是吗？结婚才两个礼拜就吊膀子？顾利的裤裆里头大概会满是蚂蚁了。”
“我看见他跟施琳吊膀子。施琳是去皮工的头手。是个死鬼好人。穿高跟鞋的施琳不让他们上打麦队去。顾利没看见。我看见她吊施琳的膀子。我还看见她跟贾尔纯吊膀子呢。”
“瞧吧，我们会有热闹看的。佐治装作不感兴趣似的说。”
老打杂工从他的座位上站起。“你说我是怎么想的？”佐治没出声。“唔，我想顾利娶的是个……烂货。”
“他不是第一个，”佐治说。“许多人都干过这种事呢。”
老头将脚步移向门口，他那老得稀奇的狗，将头抬起来，朝四周望了望，于是艰难地拉动四条脚，跟在他后面。“收割队就快要回来了。我要给那些人预备洗脸盆去了。你们两个是背麦袋的？”
“是。”
“我的话你不会告诉顾利吧？”
“当然不。”
“哼，你打量打量她吧，先生。你瞧她是个烂货不是。”他踱出房门，走到炫目的阳光里去。
佐治沉思似地将手中的牌放下，分作三堆。他将四张黑葵花找出来立在第一堆上。现在，日影照到了地板上，苍蝇从日影中穿过，象火花一般飞舞着。外面响起重载的车轴发出的噶咯噶咯的响声，马匹车免具的丁当声。一句很清楚的呼唤从远处传来：“马房长工———哟，马———房———长———工———哟！”接着是：“他妈的，那发瘟黑鬼去哪儿？”
佐治望着他那摆了出来的“苏里泰”，接着，他收拢纸牌，将它叠好，转过脸来瞧着李奈。李奈躺在床铺上，正在守候着他。
“瞧吧，李奈！这儿又会站在稳脚跟了。我实在是怕。迟早你会跟顾利那家伙闹出事来的。这种人我以前也见过。他不把你看在眼里。他估量着你是怕他的，一有机会，他就会揍你一顿。”
李奈给吓得两只眼睛怔住了。“我不想闹事，”他凄声说，“佐治，别让他揍我。”
佐治站起身来，走到李奈的铺位前，坐了下去。“我恨这种家伙，”他说，“我见得多了这些杂种。顾利是不讲什么时机的，那老头说得对。他每打必赢。”想了一下后，他说。“要是他跟你纠缠起来，李奈，我们就准会给开除出去。他是经理的儿子。可不能在这上头出岔子。记住，李奈。你要避开他，明白吗？千万别和他说话。他要是到这里来，你就干脆走到房子的另一边去。这么做你记得吗，李奈？”
“我不要闹事，”李奈凄凉得几乎要哭出来说。“我一辈子也不惹他。”
“呃，你一定会遭殃的，假使顾利要显摆拳师的威风。只有千万别惹他。你记住了吗？”
“一定，佐治。我一句话也不说。”
收割队渐来渐近，他们发出来的声音也越发地响亮了，机动车的制动声，大块马蹄敲在硬地上的得得声，还有车免链的丁当声。来回的呼喊声不住地从人群中发出来。佐治坐在床上，皱起眉头靠在李奈身边想心事。李奈畏缩地问道：“佐治，你不是在生气吧？”
“我不是生你的气，我生顾利这个狗杂种的气。我想我们总会聚起一小注钱来———也许是一百元。”他的语气越发果决了。“你避开顾利，李奈。”
“我一定那样，佐治。我一句话不说。”
“别让他缠上你———呃，可是———这狗杂种要是揍你———让他去好了。”
“让他去什么，佐治？”
“不打紧，不打紧的。我到时会告诉你。我恨这种家伙。喂，李奈，要是无论你闹了什么事，我叫你怎么做你记得吗？”
李奈用肘将身子支起来。他想得脸孔也歪向一边去了。接着，他惨淡的目光移到了佐治的脸上。“要是我闹了什么事，你就不给兔子给我管。”
“我讲的不是这个。昨天夜里我们睡在什么地方你记得吗？沿着哪条河？”
“唔，我记得。哦，当然我记得啦！我回到那里去，在丛树林里躲起来。”
“别让人家看见。一直躲到我来找你。躲在河边的丛树林里。再说一遍。”
“躲到河边的丛树林里面，走到河边的丛树林。”
“要是你闹出什么事来。”
“要是我闹出什么事来。”
外面，一架机动车停了下来。一个声音传来：“马房—长工———啊，马———房———长工。”
佐治说：“你再自己把它念一遍吧，李奈，这样一来你就不会忘掉了。”
两个人都将眼睛抬起来瞧，因为门口那长方形的太阳光柱被遮断了。一个女人正站在那儿往里面瞧着。她有着一双彼此距离很宽的眼睛，丰满的抹了胭脂的口唇，妆化得很浓打扮得很妖艳。她的指甲染成红色，头发被分成许多旋卷的小簇垂下来，象一束束香肠似的。她穿着棉布便装，红拖鞋，鞋面上缀着好些鸵鸟毛编成的小花球。“我找顾利，”她说。她的声音音质很脆，带点鼻音。
佐治一瞥见她就将视线移开去，然后才又瞧了瞧她。“一分钟前他是在这里的，现在他出去了。”
“哦！”她将双手扳到背后，斜倚在门框上，这样一来，她的身体就靠前了。“你们就是那两个新来的人，是不是？”
“是的。”
李奈从上往下地瞧着她。她虽不象是在瞧李奈，却将头昂起一点儿来。她瞧着自己的指甲。“顾利常常来这里。”她解释说。
“嗯，不过现在他不在。”佐治随口说。“他既然不在，我想我还是到别的地方去找找看吧。”她嘻皮笑脸地说。
李奈瞧着她，魂都给迷住了。佐治说：“我要是看见他，我就告诉他一声，说是你在找他好了。”
她妖冶地笑了起来，一面抽搐着身体。“别人找人谁也不能怪的，”她说。一阵脚步声在她后头扬起，并且越响越近。她回过头去。“啊，施琳。”她说。
从门口透进来施琳的声音。“嗨，打扮得真漂亮。”
“我想找顾利呢，施琳。”
“嗯，你用不着这样费劲。我看见他走进你的屋子里去啦。”
突然她狼狈起来。“再见，小
Chapter 3
　　lthough there was evening brightness showing through the windows of the bunk house, inside it was dusk. Through the open door came the thuds and occasional clangs of a horseshoe game, and now and then the sound of voices raised in approval or derision.
　　Slim and George came into the darkening bunk house together. Slim reached up over the card table and turned on the tin-shaded electric light. Instantly the table was brilliant with light, and the cone of the shade threw its brightness straight downward, leaving the corners of the bunk house still in dusk. Slim sat down on a box and George took his place opposite.
　　“It wasn’t nothing,” said Slim. “I would of had to drowned most of ‘em anyways. No need to thank me about that.”
　　George said, “It wasn’t much to you, maybe, but it was a hell of alot to him. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how we’re gonna get him to sleep in here. He’ll want to sleep right out in the barn with ‘em. We’ll have trouble keepin’ him from getting right in the box with them pups.”
　　“It wasn’t nothing,” Slim repeated. “Say, you sure was right about him. Maybe he ain’t bright, but I never seen such a worker. He damn near killed his partner buckin’ barley. There ain’t nobody can keep up with him. God awmighty, I never seen such a strong guy.”
　　George spoke proudly. “Jus’ tell Lennie what to do an’ he’ll do it if it don’t take no figuring. He can’t think of nothing to do himself, but he sure can take orders.”
　　There was a clang of horseshoe on iron stake outside and a little cheer of voices.
　　Slim moved back slightly so the light was not on his face. “Funny how you an’ him string along together.” It was Slim’s calm invitation to confidence.
　　“What’s funny about it?” George demanded defensively.
　　“Oh, I dunno. Hardly none of the guys ever travel together. I hardly never seen two guys travel together. You know how the hands are, they just come in and 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 cuckoo like him and a smart little guy like you travelin’ together.”
　　“He ain’t no cuckoo,” said George. “He’s dumb as hell, but he ain’t crazy. An’ I ain’t so bright neither, or I wouldn’t be buckin’ barley for my fifty and found. If I was bright, if I was even a little bit smart, I’d have my own little place, an’ I’d be bringin’ in my own crops, ‘stead of doin’ all the work and not getting what comes up outa the ground.” George fell silent. He wanted to talk. Slim neither encouraged nor discouraged him. He just sat back quiet and receptive.
　　“It ain’t so funny, him an’ me goin’ aroun’ together,” George said at last. “Him and me was both born in Auburn. I knowed his Aunt Clara. She took him when he was a baby and raised him up. When his Aunt Clara died, Lennie just come along with me out workin’. Got kinda used to each other after a little while.”
　　“Umm,” said Slim.
　　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 to play jokes on ‘im ‘cause he was too dumb to take care of ‘imself. But he was too dumb even to know he had a joke played on him. I had fun. Made me seem God damn smart alongside of him. Why he’d do any damn thing I tol’ him. If I tol’ him to walk over a cliff, over he’d go. That wasn’t so damn much fun after a while. He never got mad about it, neither. I’ve beat the hell outa him, and he coulda bust every bone in my body jus’ with his han’s, but he never lifted a finger against me.” George’s voice was taking on the tone of confession. “Tell you what made me stop that. One day a bunch of guys was standin’ around up on the Sacramento River. I was feelin’ pretty smart. I turns to Lennie and says, ‘Jump in.’ An’ he jumps. Couldn’t swim a stroke. He damn near drowned before 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 smart guy and he ain’t hardly ever a nice fella.”
　　George stacked the scattered cards and began to lay out his solitaire hand. The shoes thudded on the ground outside. At the windows the light of the evening still made the window squares bright. 
　　“I ain’t got no people,” George said. “I seen the guys that go around on the ranches alone. That ain’t no good. They don’t have no fun. After a long time they get mean. They get wantin’ to fight all the time.”
　　“Yeah, they get mean,” Slim agreed. “They get so they don’t want to talk to nobody.”
　　“’Course Lennie’s a God damn nuisance most of the time,” said George. “But you get used to goin’ around with a guy an’ you can’t get rid of him.”
　　“He ain’t mean,” said Slim. “I can see Lennie ain’t a bit mean.”
　　“’Course he ain’t mean. But he gets in trouble alla time because he’s so God damn dumb. Like what happened in Weed-“ He stopped, stopped in the middle of turning over a card. He looked alarmed and peered over at Slim. “You wouldn’t tell nobody?”
　　“What’d he do in Weed?” Slim asked calmly.
　　“You wouldn’ tell? . . . . No, ‘course you wouldn’.”
　　“What’d he do in Weed?” Slim asked again.
　　“Well, he seen this girl in a red dress. Dumb bastard like he is, he wants to touch ever’thing he likes. Just wants to feel it. So he reaches out to feel this red dress an’ the girl lets out a squawk, and that gets Lennie all mixed up, and he holds on ‘cause that’s the only thing he can think to do. Well, this girl squawks and squawks. I was jus’ a little bit off, and I heard all the yellin’, so I comes running, an’ by that time Lennie’s so scared all he can think to do is jus’ hold on. I socked him over the head with a fence picket to make him let go. He was so scairt he couldn’t let go of that dress. And he’s so God damn strong, you know.”
　　Slim’s eyes were level and unwinking. He nodded very slowly. “So what happens?”
　　George carefully built his line of solitaire cards. “Well, that girl rabbits in an’ tells the law she been raped. The guys in Weed start a party out to lynch Lennie. So we sit in a irrigation ditch under water all the rest of that day. Got on’y our heads sticking outa water, an’ up under the grass that sticks out from the side of the ditch. An’ that night we scrammed outa there.”
　　Slim sat in silence for a moment. “Didn’t hurt the girl none, huh?” he asked finally.
　　“Hell, no. He just scared her. I’d be scared too if he grabbed me. But he never hurt her. He jus’ wanted to touch that red dress, like he wants to pet them pups all the time.”
　　“He ain’t mean,” said Slim. “I can tell a mean guy a mile off.”
　　“’Course he ain’t, and he’ll do any damn thing I—”
　　Lennie came in through the door. He wore his blue denim coat over his shoulders like a cape, and he walked hunched way over.
　　“Hi, Lennie,” said George. “How you like the pup now?”
　　Lennie said breathlessly, “He’s brown an’ white jus’ like I wanted.” He went directly to his bunk and lay down and turned his face to the wall and drew up his knees. 
　　George put down his cards very deliberately. “Lennie,” he said sharply.
　　Lennie twisted his neck and looked over his shoulder. “Huh? What you want, George?”
　　“I tol’ you you couldn’t bring that pup in here.”
　　“What pup, George? I ain’t got no pup.”
　　George went quickly to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him over. He reached down and picked the tiny puppy from where Lennie had been concealing it against his stomach.
　　Lennie sat up quickly. “Give ‘um to me, George.”
　　George said, “You get right up an’ take this pup back to the nest. He’s gotta sleep with his mother. You want to kill him? Just born last night an’ you take him out of the nest. You take him back or I’ll tell Slim not to let you have him.”
　　Lennie held out his hands pleadingly. “Give ‘um to me, George. I’ll take ‘um back. I didn’t mean no harm, George. Honest I didn’t. I jus’ wanted to pet ‘um a little.”
　　George handed the pup to him. “Awright. You get him back there quick, and don’t you take him out no more. You’ll kill him, the first thing you know.” Lennie fairly scuttled out of the room.
　　Slim had not moved. His calm eyes followed Lennie out the door. “Jesus,” he said. “He’s jus’ like a kid, ain’t he?”
　　“Sure he’s jes’ like a kid. There ain’t no more harm in him than a kid neither, except he’s so strong. I bet he won’t come in here to sleep tonight. He’d sleep right alongside that box in the barn. Well—let ‘im. He ain’t doin’ no harm out there.”
　　It was almost dark outside now. Old Candy, the swamper, came in and went to his bunk, and behind him struggled his old dog. “Hello, Slim. Hello, George. Didn’t neither of you play horseshoes?”
　　“I don’t like to play ever’ night,” said Slim.
　　Candy went on, “Either you guys got a slug of whisky? I gotta gut ache.”
　　“I ain’t,” said Slim. “I’d drink it myself if I had, an’ I ain’t got a gut ache neither.”
　　“Gotta bad gut ache,” said Candy. “Them God damn turnips give it to me. I knowed they was going to before I ever eat ‘em.”
　　The thick-bodied Carlson came in out of the darkening yard. He walked to the other end of the bunk house and turned on the second shaded light. “Darker’n hell in here,” he said. “Jesus, how that nigger can pitch shoes.”
　　“He’s plenty good,” said Slim.
　　“Damn right he is,” said Carlson. “He don’t give nobody else a chance to win—” He stopped and sniffed the air, and still sniffing, looked down at the old dog. “God awmighty, that dog stinks. Get him outa here, Candy! I don’t know nothing that stinks as bad as an old dog. You gotta get him out.”
　　Candy rolled to the edge of his bunk. He reached over and patted the ancient dog, and he apologized, “I been around him so much I never notice how he stinks.”
　　“Well, I can’t stand him in here,” said Carlson. “That stink hangs around even after he’s gone.” He walked over with his heavy-legged stride and looked down at the dog. “Got no teeth,” he said. “He’s all stiff with rheumatism. He ain’t no good to you, Candy. An’ he ain’t no good to himself. Why’n’t you shoot him, Candy?”
　　The old man squirmed uncomfortably. “Well—hell! I had him so long. Had him since he was a pup. I herded sheep with him.” He said proudly, “You wouldn’t think it to look at him now, but he was the best damn sheep dog I ever seen.”
　　George said, “I seen a guy in Weed that had an Airedale could herd sheep. Learned it from the other dogs.” 
　　Carlson was not to be put off. “Look, Candy. This ol’ dog jus’ suffers hisself all the time. If you was to take him out and shoot him right in the back of the head—” he leaned over and pointed, “—right there, why he’d never know what hit him.”
　　Candy looked about unhappily. “No,” he said softly. “No, I couldn’t do that. I had ‘im too long.” 
　　“He don’t have no fun,” Carlson insisted. “And he stinks to beat hell. Tell you what. I’ll shoot him for you. Then it won’t be you that does it.” 
　　Candy threw his legs off his bunk. He scratched the white stubble whiskers on his cheek nervously. “I’m so used to him,” he said softly. “I had him from a pup.” 
　　“Well, you ain’t bein’ kind to him keepin’ him alive,” said Carlson. “Look, Slim’s bitch got a litter right now. I bet Slim would give you one of them pups to raise up, wouldn’t you, Slim?”
　　The skinner had been studying the old dog with his calm eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “You can have a pup if you want to.” He seemed to shake himself free for speech. “Carl’s right, Candy. That dog ain’t no good to himself. I wisht somebody’d shoot me if I get old an’ a cripple.”
　　Candy looked helplessly at him, for Slim’s opinions were law. “Maybe it’d hurt him,” he suggested. “I don’t mind takin’ care of him.”
　　Carlson said, “The way I’d shoot him, he wouldn’t feel nothing. I’d put the gun right there.” He pointed with his toe. “Right back of the head. He wouldn’t even quiver.”
　　Candy looked for help from face to face. It was quite dark outside by now. A young laboring man came in. His sloping shoulders were bent forward and he walked heavily on his heels, as though he carried the invisible grain bag. He went to his bunk and put his hat on his shelf. Then he picked a pulp magazine from his shelf and brought it to the light over the table. “Did I show you this, Slim?” he asked.
　　“Show me what?”
　　The young man turned to the back of the magazine, put it down on the table and pointed with his finger. “Right there, read that.” Slim bent over it. “Go on,” said the young man. “Read it out loud.” 
　　“’Dear Editor,’” Slim read slowly. “’I read your mag for six years and I think it is the best on the market. I like stories by Peter Rand. I think he is a whing-ding. Give us more like the Dark Rider. I don’t write many letters. Just thought I would tell you I think your mag is the best dime’s worth I ever spent.’”
　　Slim looked up questioningly. “What you want me to read that for?”
　　Whit said, “Go on. Read the name at the bottom.”
　　Slim read, “’Yours for success, William Tenner.’” He glanced up at Whit again. “What you want me to read that for?”
　　Whit closed the magazine impressively. “Don’t you remember Bill Tenner? Worked here about three months ago?”
　　Slim thought. . . . . “Little guy?” he asked. “Drove a cultivator?”
　　“That’s him,” Whit cried. “That’s the guy!”
　　“You think he’s the guy wrote this letter?”
　　“I know it. Bill and me was in here one day. Bill had one of them books that just come. He was lookin’ in it and he says, ‘I wrote a letter. Wonder if they put it in the book!’ But it wasn’t there. Bill says, ‘Maybe they’re savin’ it for later.’ An’ that’s just what they done. There it is.”
　　“Guess you’re right,” said Slim. “Got it right in the book.”
　　George held out his hand for the magazine. “Let’s look at it?”
　　Whit found the place again, but he did not surrender his hold on it. He pointed out the letter with his forefinger. And then he went to his box shelf and laid the magazine carefully in. “I wonder if Bill seen it,” he said. “Bill and me worked in that patch of field peas. Run cultivators, both of us. Bill was a hell of a nice fella.”
　　During the conversation Carlson had refused to be drawn in. He continued to look down at the old dog. Candy watched him uneasily. At last Carlson said, “If you want me to, I’ll put the old devil out of his misery right now and get it over with. Ain’t nothing left for him. Can’t eat, can’t see, can’t even walk without hurtin’.”
　　Candy said hopefully, “You ain’t got no gun.”
　　“The hell I ain’t. Got a Luger. It won’t hurt him none at all.”
　　Candy said, “Maybe tomorra. Le’s wait till tomorra.”
　　“I don’t see no reason for it,” said Carlson. He went to his bunk, pulled his bag from underneath it and took out a Luger pistol. “Le’s get it over with,” he said. “We can’t sleep with him stinkin’ around in here.” He put the pistol in his hip pocket. 
　　Candy looked a long time at Slim to try to find some reversal. And Slim gave him none. At last Candy said softly and hopelessly, “Awright—take ‘im.” He did not look down at the dog at all. He lay back on his bunk and crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
　　From his pocket Carlson took a little leather thong. He stooped over and tied it around the old dog’s neck. All the men except Candy watched him. “Come boy. Come on, boy,” he said gently. And he said apologetically to Candy, “He won’t even feel it.” Candy did not move nor answer him. He twitched the thong. “Come on, boy.” The old dog got slowly and stiffly to his feet and followed the gently pulling leash.
　　Slim said, “Carlson.”
　　“Yeah?”
　　“You know what to do.”
　　“What ya mean, Slim?”
　　“Take a shovel,” said Slim shortly.
　　“Oh, sure! I get you.” He led the dog out into the darkness.
　　George followed to the door and shut the door and set the latch gently in its place. Candy lay rigidly on his bed staring at the ceiling.
　　Slim said loudly, “One of my lead mules got a bad hoof. Got to get some tar on it.” His voice trailed off. It was silent outside. Carlson’s footsteps died away. The silence came into the room. And the silence lasted.
　　George chuckled, “I bet Lennie’s right out there in the barn with his pup. He won’t want to come in here no more now he’s got a pup.”
　　Slim said, “Candy, you can have any one of them pups you want.”
　　Candy did not answer. The silence fell on the room again. It came out of the night and invaded the room. George said, “Anybody like to play a little euchre?”
　　“I’ll play out a few with you,” said Whit.
　　They took places opposite each other at the table under the light, but George did not shuffle the cards. He rippled the edge of the deck nervously, and the little snapping noise drew the eyes of all the men in the room, so that he stopped doing it. The silence fell on the room again. A minute passed, and another minute. Candy lay still, staring at the ceiling. Slim gazed at him for a moment and then looked down at his hands; he subdued one hand with the other, and held it down. There came a little gnawing sound from under the floor and all the men looked down toward it gratefully. Only Candy continued to stare at the ceiling.
　　“Sounds like there was a rat under there,” said George. “We ought to get a trap down there.”
　　Whit broke out, “What the hell’s takin’ him so long? Lay out some cards, why don’t you? We ain’t going to get no euchre played this way.”
　　George brought the cards together tightly and studied the backs of them. The silence was in the room again.
　　A shot sounded in the distance. The men looked quickly at the old man. Every head turned toward him.
　　For a moment he continued to stare at the ceiling. Then he rolled slowly over and faced the wall and lay silent.
　　George shuffled the cards noisily and dealt them. Whit drew a scoring board to him and set the pegs to start. Whit said, “I guess you guys really come here to work.”
　　“How do ya mean?” George asked.
　　Whit laughed. “Well, ya come on a Friday. You got two days to work till Sunday.”
　　“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 gets Sat’day night supper an’ three meals on Sunday, and he can quit Monday mornin’ after breakfast without turning his hand. But you come to work Friday noon. You got to put in a day an’ a half no matter how you figure.”
　　George looked at him levelly. “We’re gonna stick aroun’ a while,” he said. “Me an’ Lennie’s gonna roll up a stake.”
　　The door opened quietly and the stable buck put in his head; a lean negro head, lined with pain, the eyes patient. “Mr. Slim.”
　　Slim took his eyes from old Candy. “Huh? Oh! Hello, Crooks. What’s’ a matter?”
　　“You told me to warm up tar for that mule’s foot. I got it warm.”
　　“Oh! Sure, Crooks. I’ll come right out an’ put it on.”
　　“I can do it if you want, Mr. Slim.”
　　“No. I’ll come do it myself.” He stood up.
　　Crooks said, “Mr. Slim.”
　　“Yeah.”
　　“That big new guy’s messin’ around your pups out in the barn.”
　　“Well, he ain’t doin’ no harm. I give him one of them pups.”
　　“Just thought I’d tell ya,” said Crooks. “He’s takin’ ‘em outa the nest and handlin’ them. That won’t do them no good.”
　　“He won’t hurt ‘em,” said Slim. “I’ll come along with you now.”
　　George looked up. “If that crazy bastard’s foolin’ around too much, jus’ kick him out, Slim.”
　　Slim followed the stable buck out of the room.
　　George dealt and Whit picked up his cards and examined them. “Seen the new kid yet?” he asked.
　　“What kid?” George asked.
　　“Why, Curley’s new wife.”
　　“Yeah, I seen her.”
　　“Well, ain’t she a looloo?”
　　“I ain’t seen that much of her,” said George.
　　Whit laid down his cards impressively. “Well, stick around an’ keep your eyes open. You’ll see plenty. She ain’t concealin’ nothing. I never seen nobody like her. She got the eye goin’ all the time on everybody. I bet she even gives the stable buck the eye. I don’t know what the hell she wants.”
　　George asked casually, “Been any trouble since she got here?”
　　It was obvious that Whit was not interested in his cards. He laid his hand down and George scooped it in. George laid out his deliberate solitaire hand—seven cards, and six on top, and five on top of those.
　　Whit said, “I see what you mean. No, they ain’t been nothing yet. Curley’s got yella-jackets in his drawers, but that’s all so far. Ever’ time the guys is around 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 away from guys. An’ Curley’s pants is just crawlin’ with ants, but they ain’t nothing come of it yet.”
　　George said, “She’s gonna make a mess. They’s gonna be a bad mess about her. She’s a jail bait all set on the trigger. That Curley got his work cut out for him. Ranch with a bunch of guys on it ain’t no place for a girl, specially like her.”
　　Whit said, “If you got idears, you oughtta come in town with us guys tomorra night.”
　　“Why? What’s doin’?”
　　“Jus’ the usual thing. We go in to old Susy’s place. Hell of a nice place. Old Susy’s a laugh—always crackin’ jokes. Like she says when we come up on the front porch las’ Sat’day night. Susy opens the door and then she yells over her shoulder, ‘Get yor coats on, girls, here comes the sheriff.’ She never talks dirty, neither. Got five girls there.”
　　“What’s it set you back?” George asked.
　　“Two an’ a half. You can get a shot for two bits. Susy got nice chairs to set in, too. If a guy don’t want a flop, why he can just set in the chairs and have a couple or three shots and pass the time of day and Susy don’t give a damn. She ain’t rushin’ guys through and kickin’ ‘em out if they don’t want a flop.”
　　“Might go in and look the joint over,” said George.
　　“Sure. Come along. It’s a hell of a lot of fun—her crackin’ jokes all the time. Like she says one time, she says, ‘I’ve knew people that if they got a rag rug on the floor an’ a kewpie doll lamp on the phonograph they think they’re running a parlor house.’ That’s Clara’s house she’s talkin’ about. An’ Susy says, ‘I know what you boys want,’ she says. ‘My girls is clean,’ she says, ‘an’ there ain’t no water in my whisky,’ she says. ‘If any you guys wanta look at a kewpie doll lamp an’ take your own chance gettin’ burned, why you know where to go.’ An’ she says, ‘There’s guys around here walkin’ bow-legged ‘cause they like to look at a kewpie doll lamp.’”
　　George asked, “Clara runs the other house, huh?”
　　“Yeah,” said Whit. “We don’t never go there. Clara gets three bucks a crack and thirty-five cents a shot, and she don’t crack no jokes. But Susy’s place is clean and she got nice chairs. Don’t let no goo-goos in, neither.”
　　“Me an’ Lennie’s rollin’ up a stake,” said George. “I might go in an’ set and have a shot, but I ain’t puttin’ out no two and a half.”
　　“Well, a guy got to have some fun sometime,” said Whit.
　　The door opened and Lennie and Carlson came in together. Lennie crept to his bunk and sat down, trying not to attract attention. Carlson reached under his bunk and brought out his bag. He didn’t look at old Candy, who still faced the wall. Carlson found a little cleaning rod in the bag and a can of oil. He laid them on his bed and then brought out the pistol, took out the magazine and snapped the loaded shell from the chamber. Then he fell to cleaning the barrel with the little rod. When the ejector snapped, Candy turned over and looked for a moment at the gun before he turned back to the wall again.
　　Carlson said casually, “Curley been in yet?”
　　“No,” said Whit. “What’s eatin’ on Curley?”
　　Carlson squinted down the barrel of his gun. “Lookin’ for his old lady. I seen him going round and round outside.”
　　Whit said sarcastically, “He spends half his time lookin’ for her, and the rest of the time she’s lookin’ for him.”
　　Curley burst into the room excitedly. “Any you guys seen my wife?” he demanded.
　　“She ain’t been here,” said Whit.
　　Curley looked threateningly about the room. “Where the hell’s Slim?”
　　“Went out in the barn,” said George. “He was gonna put some tar on a split hoof.”
　　Curley’s shoulders dropped and squared. “How long ago’d he go?”
　　“Five—ten minutes.”
　　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 just spoilin’ or he wouldn’t start for Slim. An’ Curley’s handy, God damn handy. Got in the finals for the Golden Gloves. He got newspaper clippings about it.” He considered. “But jus’ the same, he better leave Slim alone. Nobody don’t know what Slim can do.”
　　“Thinks Slim’s with his wife, don’t he?” said George.
　　“Looks like it,” Whit said. “’Course Slim ain’t. Least I don’t think Slim is. But I like to see the fuss if it comes off. Come on, le’s go.”
　　George said, “I’m stayin’ right here. I don’t want to get mixed up in nothing. Lennie and me got to make a stake.”
　　Carlson finished the cleaning of the gun and put it in the bag and pushed the bag under his bunk. “I guess I’ll go out and look her over,” he said. Old Candy lay still, and Lennie, from his bunk, watched George cautiously.
　　When Whit and Carlson were gone and the door closed after them, George turned to Lennie. “What you got on your mind?”
　　“I ain’t done nothing, George. Slim says I better not pet them pups so much for a while. Slim says it ain’t good for them; so I come right in. I been good, George.”
　　“I coulda told you that,” said George.
　　“Well, I wasn’t hurtin’ ‘em none. I jus’ had mine in my lap pettin’ it.”
　　George asked, “Did you see Slim out in the barn?”
　　“Sure I did. He tol’ me I better not pet that pup no more.”
　　“Did you see that girl?”
　　“You mean Curley’s girl?”
　　“Yeah. Did she come in the barn?”
　　“No. Anyways I never seen her.”
　　“You never seen Slim talkin’ to her?”
　　“Uh-uh. She ain’t been in the barn.”
　　“O.K.,” said George. “I guess them guys ain’t gonna see no fight. If there’s any fightin’, Lennie, you keep out of it.”
　　“I don’t want no fights,” said Lennie. He got up from his bunk and sat down at the table, across from George. Almost automatically George shuffled the cards and laid out his solitaire hand. He used a deliberate, thoughtful slowness.
　　Lennie reached for a face card and studied it, then turned it upside down and studied it. “Both ends the same,” he said. “George, why is it both ends the same?”
　　“I don’t know,” said George. “That’s jus’ the way they make ‘em. What was Slim doin’ in the barn when you seen him?”
　　“Slim?”
　　“Sure. You seen him in the barn, an’ he tol’ you not to pet the pups so much.”
　　“Oh, yeah. He had a can a’ tar an’ a paint brush. I don’t know what for.”
　　“You sure that girl didn’t come in like she come in here today?”
　　“No. She never come.”
　　George sighed. “You give me a good whore house every time,” he said. “A guy can go in an’ get drunk and get ever’thing outa his system all at once, an’ no messes. And he knows how much it’s gonna set him back. These here jail baits is just set on the trigger of the hoosegow.”
　　Lennie followed his words admiringly, and moved his lips a little to keep up. George continued, “You remember Andy Cushman, Lennie? Went to grammar school?”
　　“The one that his old lady used to make hot cakes for the kids?” Lennie asked.
　　“Yeah. That’s the one. You can remember anything if there’s anything to eat in it.” George looked carefully at the solitaire hand. He put an ace up on his scoring rack and piled a two, three and four of diamonds on it. “Andy’s in San Quentin right now on account of a tart,” said George.
　　Lennie drummed on the table with his fingers. “George?”
　　“Huh?”
　　“George, how long’s it gonna be till we get that little place an’ live on the fatta the lan’—an’ rabbits?”
　　“I don’t know”, said George. “We gotta get a big stake together. I know a little place we can get cheap, but they ain’t givin’ it away.”
　　Old Candy turned slowly over. His eyes were wide open. He watched George carefully.
　　Lennie said, “Tell about that place, George.”
　　“I jus’ tol’ you, jus’ las’ night.”
　　“Go on—tell again, George.”
　　“Well, it’s ten acres,” said George. “Got a little win’mill. Got a little shack on it, an’ a chicken run. Got a kitchen, orchard, cherries, apples, peaches, ‘cots, nuts, got a few berries. They’s a place for alfalfa and plenty water to flood it. They’s a pig pen—”
　　“An’ rabbits, George.”
　　“No place for rabbits now, but I could easy build a few hutches and you could feed alfalfa to the rabbits.”
　　“Damn right, I could,” said Lennie. “You God damn right I could.”
　　George’s hands stopped working with the cards. His voice was growing warmer. “An’ we could have a few pigs. I could build a smoke house like the one 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 could catch a hundred of ‘em an’ salt ‘em down or smoke ‘em. We could have them for breakfast. They ain’t nothing so nice as smoked salmon. When the fruit come in we could can it—and tomatoes, they’re easy to can. Ever’ Sunday we’d kill a chicken or a rabbit. Maybe we’d have a cow or a goat, and the cream is so God damn thick you got to cut it with a knife and take it out with a spoon.”
　　Lennie watched him with wide eyes, and old Candy watched him too. Lennie said softly, “We could live offa the fatta the lan’.”
　　“Sure,” said George. “All kin’s a vegetables in the garden, and if we want a little whisky we can sell a few eggs or something, or some milk. We’d jus’ live there. We’d belong there. There wouldn’t be no more runnin’ round the country and gettin’ fed by a Jap cook. No, sir, we’d have our own place where we belonged and not sleep in no bunk house.”
　　“Tell about the house, George,” Lennie begged.
　　“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 to work too hard. Maybe six, seven hours a day. We wouldn’t have to buck no barley eleven hours a day. An’ when we put in a crop, why, we’d be there to take the crop up. We’d know what come of our planting.”
　　“An’ rabbits,” Lennie said eagerly. “An’ I’d take care of ‘em. Tell how I’d do that, George.”
　　“Sure, you’d go out in the alfalfa patch an’ you’d have a sack. You’d fill up the sack and bring it in an’ put it in the rabbit cages.”
　　“They’d nibble an’ they’d nibble,” said Lennie, “the way they do. I seen ‘em.”
　　“Ever’ six weeks or so,” George continued, “them does would throw a litter so we’d have plenty rabbits to eat an’ to sell. An’ we’d keep a few pigeons to go flyin’ around the win’mill like they done when I was a kid.” He looked raptly at the wall over Lennie’s head. “An’ it’d be our own, an’ nobody could can us. If we don’t like a guy we can say, ‘Get the hell out,’ and by God he’s got to do it. An’ if a fren’ come along, why we’d have an extra bunk, an’ we’d say, ‘Why don’t you spen’ the night?’ an’ by God he would. We’d have a setter dog and a couple stripe cats, but you gotta watch out them cats don’t get the little rabbits.”
　　Lennie breathed hard. “You jus’ let ‘em try to get the rabbits. I’ll break their God damn necks. I’ll . . . . I’ll smash ‘em with a stick.” He subsided, grumbling to himself, threatening the future cats which might dare to disturb the future rabbits.
　　George sat entranced with his own picture.
　　When Candy spoke they both jumped as though they had been caught doing something reprehensible. Candy said, “You know where’s a place like that?”
　　George was on guard immediately. “S’pose I do,” he said. “What’s that to you?”
　　“You don’t need to tell me where it’s at. Might be any place.”
　　“Sure,” said George. “That’s right. You couldn’t find it in a hundred years.”
　　Candy went on excitedly, “How much they want for a place like that?”
　　George watched him suspiciously. “Well—I could get it for six hundred bucks. The ol’ people that owns it is flat bust an’ the ol’ lady needs an operation. Say—what’s it to you? You got nothing to do with us.”
　　Candy said, “I ain’t much good with on’y one hand. I lost my hand right here on this ranch. That’s why they give me a job swampin’. An’ they give me two hunderd an’ fifty dollars ‘cause I los’ my hand. An’ I got fifty more saved up right in the bank, right now. Tha’s three hunderd, and I got fifty more comin’ the end a the month. Tell you what—” He leaned forward eagerly. “S’pose I went in with you guys. Tha’s three hunderd an’ fifty bucks I’d put in. I ain’t much good, but I could cook and tend the chickens and hoe the garden some. How’d that be?”
　　George half-closed his eyes. “I gotta think about that. We was always gonna do it by ourselves.”
　　Candy interrupted him, “I’d make a will an’ leave my share to you guys in case I kick off, ‘cause I ain’t got no relatives nor nothing. You guys got any money? Maybe we could do her right now?”
　　George spat on the floor disgustedly. “We got ten bucks between us.” Then he said thoughtfully, “Look, if me an’ Lennie work a month an’ don’t spen’ nothing, we’ll have a hunderd bucks. That’d be four fifty. I bet we could swing her for that. Then you an’ Lennie could go get her started an’ I’d get a job an’ make up the res’, an’ you could sell eggs an’ stuff like that.”
　　They fell into a silence. They looked at one another, amazed. This thing they had never really believed in was coming true. George said reverently, “Jesus Christ! I bet we could swing her.” His eyes were full of wonder. “I bet we could swing her,” he repeated softly.
　　Candy sat on the edge of his bunk. He scratched the stump of his wrist nervously. “I got hurt four year ago,” he said. “They’ll can me purty soon. Jus’ as soon as I can’t swamp out no bunk houses they’ll put me on the county. Maybe if I give you guys my money, you’ll let me hoe in the garden even after I ain’t no good at it. An’ I’ll wash dishes an’ little chicken stuff like that. But I’ll be on our own place, an’ I’ll be let to work on our own place.” He said miserably, “You seen what they done to my dog tonight? They says he wasn’t no good to himself nor nobody else. When they can me here I wisht somebody’d shoot me. But they won’t do nothing like that. I won’t have no place to go, an’ I can’t get no more jobs. I’ll have thirty dollars more comin’, time you guys is ready to quit.”
　　George stood up. “We’ll do her,” he said. “We’ll fix up that little old place an’ we’ll go live there.” He sat down again. They all sat still, all bemused by the beauty of the thing, each mind was popped into the future when this lovely thing should come about.
　　George said wonderingly, “S’pose they was a carnival or a circus come to town, or a ball game, or any damn thing.” Old Candy nodded in appreciation of the idea. “We’d just go to her,” George said. “We wouldn’t ask nobody if we could. Jus’ say, ‘We’ll go to her,’ an’ we would. Jus’ milk the cow and sling some grain to the chickens an’ go to her.”
　　“An’ put some grass to the rabbits,” Lennie broke in. “I wouldn’t never forget to feed them. When we gon’ta do it, George?”
　　“In one month. Right squack in one month. Know what I’m gon’ta do? I’m gon’ta write to them old people that owns the place that we’ll take it. An’ Candy’ll send a hunderd dollars to bind her.”
　　“Sure will,” said Candy. “They got a good stove there?”
　　“Sure, got a nice stove, burns coal or wood.”
　　“I’m gonna take my pup,” said Lennie. “I bet by Christ he likes it there, by Jesus.”
　　Voices were approaching from outside. George said quickly, “Don’t tell nobody about it. Jus’ us three an’ nobody else. They li’ble to can us so we can’t make no stake. Jus’ go on like we was gonna buck barley the rest of our lives, then all of a sudden some day we’ll go get our pay an’ scram outa here.”
　　Lennie and Candy nodded, and they were grinning with delight. “Don’t tell nobody,” Lennie said to himself.
　　Candy said, “George.”
　　“Huh?”
　　“I ought to of shot that dog myself, George. I shouldn’t ought to of let no stranger shoot my dog.”
　　The door opened. Slim came in, followed by Curley and Carlson and Whit. Slim’s hands were black with tar and he was scowling. Curley hung close to his elbow.
　　Curley said, “Well, I didn’t mean nothing, Slim. I just ast you.”
　　Slim said, “Well, you been askin’ me too often. I’m gettin’ God damn sick of it. If you can’t look after your own God damn wife, what you expect me to do about it? You lay offa me.”
　　“I’m jus’ tryin’ to tell you I didn’t mean nothing,” said Curley. “I jus’ thought you might of saw her.”
　　“Why’n’t you tell her to stay the hell home where she belongs?” said Carlson. “You let her hang around bunk houses and pretty soon you’re gonna have som’pin on your hands and you won’t be able to do nothing about it.”
　　Curley whirled on Carlson. “You keep outa this les’ you wanta step outside.”
　　Carlson laughed. “You God damn punk,” he said. “You tried to throw a scare into Slim, an’ you couldn’t make it stick. Slim throwed a scare into you. You’re yella as a frog belly. I don’t care if you’re the best welter in the country. You come for me, an’ I’ll kick your God damn head off.”
　　Candy joined the attack with joy. “Glove fulla vaseline,” he said disgustedly. Curley glared at him. His eyes slipped on past and lighted on Lennie; and Lennie was still smiling with delight at the memory of the ranch.
　　Curley stepped over to Lennie like a terrier. “What the hell you laughin’ at?”
　　Lennie looked blankly at him. “Huh?”
　　Then Curley’s rage exploded. “Come on, ya big bastard. Get up on your feet. No big son-of-a-bitch is gonna laugh at me. I’ll show ya who’s yella.”
　　Lennie looked helplessly at George, and then he got up and tried to retreat. Curley was balanced and poised. He slashed at Lennie with his left, and then smashed down his nose with a right. Lennie gave a cry of terror. Blood welled from his nose. “George,” he cried. “Make ‘um let me alone, George.” He backed until he was against the wall, and Curley followed, slugging him in the face. Lennie’s hands remained at his sides; he was too frightened to defend himself.
　　George was on his feet yelling, “Get him, Lennie. Don’t let him do it.”
　　Lennie covered his face with his huge paws and bleated with terror. He cried, “Make ‘um stop, George.” Then Curley attacked his stomach and cut off his wind.
　　Slim jumped up. “The dirty little rat,” he cried, “I’ll get ‘um myself.”
　　George put out his hand and grabbed Slim. “Wait a minute,” he shouted. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Get ‘im, Lennie!”
　　Lennie took his hands away from his face and looked about for George, and Curley slashed at his eyes. The big face was covered with blood. George yelled again, “I said get him.”
　　Curley’s fist was swinging when Lennie reached for it. The next minute Curley was flopping like a fish on a line, and his closed fist was lost in Lennie’s big hand. George ran down the room. “Leggo of him, Lennie. Let go.”
　　But Lennie watched in terror the flopping little man whom he held. Blood ran down Lennie’s face, one of his eyes was cut and closed. George slapped him in the face again and again, and still Lennie held on to the closed fist. Curley was white and shrunken by now, and his struggling had become weak. He stood crying, his fist lost in Lennie’s paw.
　　George shouted over and over. “Leggo his hand, Lennie. Leggo. Slim, come help me while the guy got any hand left.”
　　Suddenly Lennie let go his hold. He crouched cowering against the wall. “You tol’ me to, George,” he said miserably.
　　Curley sat down on the floor, looking in wonder at his crushed hand. Slim and Carlson bent over him. Then Slim straightened up and regarded Lennie with horror. “We got to get him in to a doctor,” he said. “Looks to me like ever’ bone in his han’ is bust.”
　　“I didn’t wanta,” Lennie cried. “I didn’t wanta hurt him.”
　　Slim said, “Carlson, you get the candy wagon hitched up. We’ll take ‘um into Soledad an’ get ‘um fixed up.” Carlson hurried out. Slim turned to the whimpering Lennie. “It ain’t your fault,” he said. “This punk sure had it comin’ to him. But—Jesus! He ain’t hardly got no han’ left.” Slim hurried out, and in a moment returned with a tin cup of water. He held it to Curley’s lips.
　　George said, “Slim, will we get canned now? We need the stake. Will Curley’s old man can us now?”
　　Slim smiled wryly. He knelt down beside Curley. “You got your senses in hand enough to listen?” he asked. Curley nodded. “Well, then listen,” Slim went on. “I think you got your han’ caught in a machine. If you don’t tell nobody what happened, we ain’t going to. But you jus’ tell an’ try to get this guy canned and we’ll tell ever’body, an’ then will you get the laugh.”
　　“I won’t tell,” said Curley. He avoided looking at Lennie.
　　Buggy wheels sounded outside. Slim helped Curley up. “Come on now. Carlson’s gonna take you to a doctor.” He helped Curley out the door. The sound of wheels drew away. In a moment Slim came back into the bunk house. He looked at Lennie, still crouched fearfully against the wall. “Le’s see your hands,” he asked.
　　Lennie stuck out his hands.
　　“Christ awmighty, I hate to have you mad at me,” Slim said.
　　George broke in, “Lennie was jus’ scairt,” he explained. “He didn’t know what to do. I told you nobody ought never to fight him. No, I guess it was Candy I told.”
　　Candy nodded solemnly. “That’s jus’ what you done,” he said. “Right this morning when Curley first lit intil your fren’, you says, ‘He better not fool with Lennie if he knows what’s good for ‘um.’ That’s jus’ what you says to me.”
　　George turned to Lennie. “It ain’t your fault,” he said. “You don’t need to be scairt no more. You done jus’ what I tol’ you to. Maybe you better go in the wash room an’ clean up your face. You look like hell.”
　　Lennie smiled with his bruised mouth. “I didn’t want no trouble,” he said. He walked toward the door, but just before he came to it, he turned back. “George?”
　　“What you want?”
　　“I can still tend the rabbits, George?”
　　“Sure. You ain’t done nothing wrong.”
　　“I di’n’t mean no harm, George.”
“Well, get the hell out and wash your face.”
第 三 章
虽然有着黄昏的亮光从工寮的窗户里透了进来，但室内仍是暗黑的。由敞开着的门传来玩马蹄铁戏的粗钝的嗒嗒声，间或又是口当口当声，不时还会有嘲弄或喝采的声音扬起来。
佐治和施琳一道走进了正在暗淡下来的宿舍。施琳走到玩牌的桌子旁，将盖着灯罩的电灯打开。桌面霎时间给照得灿亮起来。圆锥体的光柱直往下照。留下宿舍的四个角落仍然是昏暗的。施琳坐在了一只苹果箱上，佐治则坐在他对面。
“没什么，”施琳说。“反正我总要把其中一些淹死的。用不着谢我这件事。”
佐治说：“也许在你看来是不算什么，但在他可是不得了的了。天，怎样我才能把他拉回来睡觉我不知道。他会跟小狗一块在外面畜舍睡呢。我看这事准会很麻烦，要叫他不和狗儿们一起睡在仓格子里。”
“没什么，”施琳重复这一句。“喂，说他你可说对了。也许他不是个伶俐人，但这样的雇工我从未见过、背起麦袋来没人能敌得过他，没有人能陪得他到底。天，这么壮的汉子我从来没见过。”
佐治觉得脸上有光地说：“用不着动脑子的事，只要给李奈说声做什么，他就会把它们做好。他自己什么也不会想，可是命令他能听从。”
一阵马蹄落在铁桩上的当啷声，和小小的喝采声从外面传了进来。
施琳往后移了点，这样一来灯光就不能照在他脸上。“真怪，你和他一道打帮找活儿。”施琳平静地邀请着对方的信任。佐治防御地反诘道：“这有什么可奇怪的？”
“哦哦，我不明白。打帮的角儿很少有。两个角儿打帮走路我很少见到。这里的雇工是怎么的哩，你猜。他们踏脚进来，得个床位，干上个把月，就呆不住，把工辞掉，独自个儿溜走了。从没见过谁牵累谁的。看起来是有点奇怪，你这么精佻的小伙子和象他这样一只布谷鸟打帮走路。”
“他不是布谷鸟，”佐治说。“死哑巴他是，但他不是白痴。我呢，也不是那么精佻，要不然我就不会那么没出息，为了食宿在外的五十块钱来背麦袋。我要是精佻，我要是有半分儿伶俐，我就该有一小块自己的地，我就该自己收割自己的物料，而犯不着这样整天拚死拚活地干，还沾不到半点地上长出来的东西。”佐治进入缄默了之中。他需要讲话。施琳不泄他的气，也不给他打气。他只是坐在那儿，静静地很有感受地听他接着说下去。
“这并不怎么奇怪，我和他打帮到处流浪，”终于佐治说了。“我们都是在奥班出生的。我认识他姑姑卡莉拉。还是个小孩的时候，他就被她接收了来，把他抚养大。他卡莉拉姑姑死后，李奈只好跟着我到外地找活干。没多久，彼此就习惯了。”
施琳说：“啊口奄。”
佐治瞟了一眼施琳，瞧见那双神仙似的、安详的眼睛正在盯着他看。“有意思极了，”佐治说。“我常常跟他闹出一大堆他妈的笑话。因为他呆头呆脑，照管不了自己。我常拿他来开玩笑。可是呢，他甚至呆到连自己给自己开玩笑也不知道哩。我有得乐。在他身边，我就像是死鬼似的伶俐了起来。嗯，他妈的他都干，我叫他干什么。他会真的走，要是我叫他朝大海边上的悬崖走过去。没过多久后，我可不拿他开那么多玩笑了。倒不是他生气，在这上头他从不生气的。我打过他，他要是回手，我每根骨头能不都碎了吗，可是他从未翘起过一根指头跟我对打过。”佐治的声音转为自我忏悔的语气了。“告诉你我是因为什么不再拿他逗乐。有一天一大群人站在舍其林曼图河岸上。我有点乖觉起来了，将脸转过来对李奈说：‘跳下去吧。’他果真跳了下去。他游不了几步。差一点儿他就淹死了，要不是我们赶快把他捞起来。可他还十分感激我把他打捞了上来呢。是我叫他跳下去的事忘得一干二净。哎，后来这种事我就再也不干了。”
“他是个好人，”施琳说。“一个好人是不用什么聪明也能做得成的。就我看呢，有时候聪明反倒会不对路。他就很难是个好人，随便一个真地精佻的角儿。”
佐治把乱牌叠好，又把他的一手暗牌从里面抽了出来。外面，马蹄铁依然在嗒嗒地震响着。夕阳从窗口中照进来，仍将一小块四方的地面照亮着。
“我没有什么亲人，”佐治说。“到处农场的角儿们都是单身的我看见。那不好，他们没有什么乐趣。混久了人就变得下流了起来。时时刻刻要殴斗。”
“对，他们变得下流，”施琳同意地说。“变成这种样子，他们就不会想跟别人谈心了。”
“当然，大部分时候李奈是死讨人厌的，”佐治说。“可是你就撇不开他了，当你同一个人打帮走惯了后。”
“他下流不，”施琳说。“李奈没有半点下流的地方，这我看得了来。”
“他确实不是下流。可是他呆成那么个鸟样子，时常会要闹出乱子来。比方说在韦地出的事……”他猛地停下来不说话了，这当儿他正在把一张牌翻过来。他脸上现出警戒的神情，两眼盯着施琳。“你可不要对别人说。”
施琳安详地问道：“在韦地他搞出了什么事？”
“你不会把它告诉别人的吧？———不，自然你不会的。”
施琳又问：“他在韦地搞出了什么事呀？”
“嗯，他瞧见个穿红衣服的大姑娘。可真是呆得可怜，他这个杂种凡是他喜欢的东西他都想去摸一下。只是想掂一掂。就这样，他便将手伸出去掂那件红衣服，那姑娘哇的一声叫了起来，这样一来李奈给吓得整个儿就六神无主了，他把那红衣服紧紧地揪在手里不放，因为别的什么办法他想不出来。唉，那大姑娘哇哇的直叫个不住口。我就在附近，我跑了过来，听见喊声。李奈这时就更慌了，他不知如何是好，只知道把那红衣服牢牢地抓着。我用一根篱栅敲他的脑壳，要他放手。他慌成那个样子，哪里还知道要把手松开。他又是死鬼有力气的，你知道。”
施琳一双眼睛一刹不刹，显得十分地安详。他缓缓地点了点头。“后来怎么样？”
佐治把他的暗牌用心地摆成一排。“嚄，那大姑娘跑到法院去，说她被奸污。一大帮韦地人要把李奈抓住，当场把他结果掉。这一来我们给迫得躲在一条水渠里。那一天剩下的时间，我们都在水里浸着。只露出头在水面上，搁在渠边的野草堆中间。天黑了，才偷偷地溜了出来。”
施琳沉默了好一会儿。“他没把那大姑娘弄伤吧，呃？”他终于问道。
“伤个鸟巴。她不过是给他吓怕了罢了。要是是我给他一把抓住，我也会给吓坏的。可他不会去伤她什么。他只不过想摸一下那红衣裳，就跟没个时辰他不想摸一下那些狗儿一样。”
“他不是下流，”施琳说。“隔一哩远我就可以嗅得出来，要是下流的家伙。”
“自然他不是，而且他还什么鸟事都肯干，只要我……”
李奈从门口走了进来。他穿的蓝斜纹布上衣活象一块披肩罩在他的双肩上。他走过来时，背显得有点驼似的。
“喂，李奈，”佐治说。“现在你对那只小狗是多么地喜欢喽？”
李奈气也不透了，说：“它是棕褐色底带白花的，这种的正合我的意呢。”他径直走到自己的铺位，躺了下去，把脸朝向墙壁，将两只膝髁曲起来。”
佐治若有所思地把手中的牌放下。“李奈，”他厉声说道。
李奈把脖子拧过来，从自己的肩头膀上面斜望过去。
“呃？有什么事吗，佐治？”
“不许你把小狗带进这儿来，这我跟你说过的。”
“佐治，什么小狗呀？我没有。”
佐治抢上前去，一把把他的肩膀抓住，把他翻了过来。他将手伸下去，一只很小的狗仔给他搜出来了，李奈把它藏在紧贴肚皮的地方。
李奈倏地爬了起来。“佐治，把它给我。”
佐治说：“你马上起来，把小狗放回它的窝里去。它得跟母狗睡在一起。你想把它弄死吗？昨天夜里才生出来的，你就把它从窝里拿了出来。你快把它放回去，不然我就跟施琳说叫他别给你。”
李奈伸出双手求情似地说：“佐治，把它给我吧。我会放它回去的，我不会伤害它，佐治。我不会，对天说。我只是要摸着玩一会儿。”
佐治把小狗递给他。“对啦。你赶快把它放回窝里去，再也别拿它出来。它会给你弄死的呢，你要知道。”李奈无可奈何地匆匆走了出去。
施琳一直一动不动地坐在那儿他用平静的目光目送李奈出了门口。“天啊，”他说。“他就象个孩子呢，是不是？”
“他真的就象是个孩子。他闯了祸也比小孩的淘气差不了许多，只是他是那么地有力气罢了。今天晚上他不会回来睡觉。我敢打赌。他准会睡在外头狗栏旁边。也好———让他去吧。在那儿也不会有什么祸事给他弄出来的。”
这时，外面天差不多全黑了下来。老甘德，这个打杂工，走了进来，踱到了他的床位前，他的老狗一瘸一跛地跟在他后面。“哈罗，施琳。哈罗，佐治。马蹄铁赛，你们两个都不玩吗？”
“我不爱每天夜里都玩，”施琳说。
甘德接着说：“我肚子痛，你们谁有威士忌酒吗？”
“我没有，”施琳说。“哪怕我肚子并不痛，有我也自己把它喝掉了。”
“肚子痛得好厉害，”甘德说。“都是给那些鸟萝卜害的。还没吃下去我就知道会弄坏肚子的了。”
魁梧的贾尔纯从外面正在黑下来的天井走了进来。他走到寝室的另一头，扭亮第二盏盖着灯罩的电灯。“他妈的这儿黑得可真够呛哩，”他说。“天啊，那个黑鬼可真会掷蹄啊。”
施琳说：“他很行。”
“他真行，妈的，”贾尔纯说。“一次他也不让别人赢了去……”他闭上嘴不说话，嗅着空气，嗅了又嗅，看见那条老狗在下面躺着。“我的天，这条狗好臭。甘德，把它赶出去呀！象这老狗这样臭得难闻的东西我从来就没见过。你快把它赶出去。”
甘德从床上滚了下
Chapter 4
　　rooks, the Negro stable buck, had his bunk in the harness room; a little shed that leaned off the wall of the barn. On one side of the little room there was a square four-paned window, and on the other, a narrow plank door leading into the barn. Crooks’ bunk was a long box filled with straw, on which his blankets were flung. On the wall by the window there were pegs on which hung broken harness in process of being mended; strips of new leather; and under the window itself a little bench for leather-working tools, curved knives and needles and balls of linen thread, and a small hand riveter. On pegs were also pieces of harness, a split collar with the horsehair stuffing sticking out, a broken hame, and a trace chain with its leather covering split. Crooks had his apple box over his bunk, and in it a range of medicine bottles, both for himself and for the horses. There were cans of saddle soap and a drippy can of tar with its paint brush sticking over the edge. And scattered about the floor were a number of personal possessions; for, being alone, Crooks could leave his things about, and being a stable buck and a cripple, he was more permanent than the other men, and he had accumulated more possessions than he could carry on his back.
　　Crooks possessed several pairs of shoes, a pair of rubber boots, a big alarm clock and a single-barreled shotgun. And he had books, too; a tattered dictionary and a mauled copy of the California civil code for 1905. There were battered magazines and a few dirty books on a special shelf over his bunk. A pair of large gold-rimmed spectacles hung from a nail on the wall above his bed.
　　This room was swept and fairly neat, for Crooks was a proud, aloof man. He kept his distance and demanded that other people keep theirs. His body was bent over to the left by his crooked spine, and his eyes lay deep in his head, and because of their depth seemed to glitter with intensity. His lean face was lined with deep black wrinkles, and he had thin, pain-tightened lips which were lighter than his face.
　　It was Saturday night. Through the open door that led into the barn came the sound of moving horses, of feet stirring, of teeth champing on hay, of the rattle of halter chains. In the stable buck’s room a small electric globe threw a meager yellow light.
　　Crooks sat on his bunk. His shirt was out of his jeans in back. In one hand he held a bottle of liniment, and with the other he rubbed his spine. Now and then he poured a few drops of the liniment into his pink-palmed hand and reached up under his shirt to rub again. He flexed his muscles against his back and shivered.
　　Noiselessly Lennie appeared in the open doorway and stood there looking in, his big shoulders nearly filling the opening. For a moment Crooks did not see him, but on raising his eyes he stiffened and a scowl came on his face. His hand came out from under his shirt. 
　　Lennie smiled helplessly in an attempt to make friends.
　　Crooks said sharply, “You got no right to come in my room. This here’s my room. Nobody got any right in here but me.”
　　Lennie gulped and his smile grew more fawning. “I ain’t doing nothing,” he said. “Just come to look at my puppy. And I seen your light,” he explained.
　　“Well, I got a right to have a light. You go on get outa my room. I ain’t wanted in the bunk house, and you ain’t wanted in my room.”
　　“Why ain’t you wanted?” Lennie asked. 
　　“’Cause I’m black. They play cards in there, but I can’t play because I’m black. They say I stink. Well, I tell you, you all of you stink to me.”
　　Lennie flapped his big hands helplessly. “Ever’body went into town,” he said. “Slim an’ George an’ ever’body. George says I gotta stay here an’ not get in no trouble. I seen your light.”
　　“Well, what do you want?”
　　“Nothing—I seen your light. I thought I could jus’ come in an’ set.”
　　Crooks stared at Lennie, and he reached behind him and took down the spectacles and adjusted them over his pink ears and stared again. “I don’t know what you’re doin’ in the barn anyway,” he complained. “You ain’t no skinner. They’s no call for a bucker to come into the barn at all. You ain’t no skinner. You ain’t got nothing to do with the horses.”
　　“The pup,” Lennie repeated. “I come to see my pup.”
　　“Well, go see your pup, then. Don’t come in a place where you’re not wanted.”
　　Lennie lost his smile. He advanced a step into the room, then remembered and backed to the door again. “I looked at ‘em a little. Slim says I ain’t to pet ‘em very much.”
　　Crooks said, “Well, you been takin’ ‘em out of the nest all the time. I wonder the old lady don’t move ‘em someplace else.”
　　“Oh, she don’t care. She lets me.” Lennie had moved into the room again.
　　Crooks scowled, but Lennie’s disarming smile defeated him. “Come on in and set a while,” Crooks said. “’Long as you won’t get out and leave me alone, you might as well set down.” His tone was a little more friendly. “All the boys gone into town, huh?”
　　“All but old Candy. He just sets in the bunk house sharpening his pencil and sharpening and figuring.”
　　Crooks adjusted his glasses. “Figuring? What’s Candy figuring about?”
　　Lennie almost shouted, “’Bout the rabbits.”
　　“You’re nuts,” said Crooks. “You’re crazy as a wedge. What rabbits you talkin’ about?”
　　“The rabbits we’re gonna get, and I get to tend ‘em, cut grass an’ give ‘em water, an’ like that.” 
　　“Jus’ nuts,” said Crooks. “I don’t blame the guy you travel with for keepin’ you outa sight.”
　　Lennie said quietly, “It ain’t no lie. We’re gonna do it. Gonna get a little place an’ live on the fatta the lan’.”
　　Crooks settled himself more comfortably on his bunk. “Set down,” he invited. “Set down on the nail keg.”
　　Lennie hunched down on the little barrel. “You think it’s a lie,” Lennie said. “But it ain’t no lie. Ever’ word’s the truth, an’ you can ast George.”
　　Crooks put his dark chin into his pink palm. “You travel aroun’ with George, don’t ya?” 
　　“Sure. Me an’ him goes ever’ place together.”
　　Crooks continued. “Sometimes he talks, and you don’t know what the hell he’s talkin’ about. Ain’t that so?” He leaned forward, boring Lennie with his deep eyes. “Ain’t that so?” 
　　“Yeah . . . . sometimes.”
　　“Jus’ talks on, an’ you don’t know what the hell it’s all about?” 
　　“Yeah . . . . sometimes. But . . . . not always.”
　　Crooks leaned forward over the edge of the bunk. “I ain’t a southern Negro,” he said. “I was born right here in California. My old man had a chicken ranch, ‘bout ten acres. The white kids come to play at our place, an’ sometimes I went to play with them, and some of them was pretty nice. My ol’ man didn’t like that. I never knew till long later why he didn’t like that. But I know now.” He hesitated, and when he spoke again his voice was softer. “There wasn’t another colored family for miles around. And now there ain’t a colored man on this ranch an’ there’s jus’ one family in Soledad.” He laughed. “If I say something, why it’s just a nigger sayin’ it.”
　　Lennie asked, “How long you think it’ll be before them pups will be old enough to pet?”
　　Crooks laughed again. “A guy can talk to you an’ be sure you won’t go blabbin’. Couple of weeks an’ them pups’ll be all right. George knows what he’s about. Jus’ talks, an’ you don’t understand nothing.” He leaned forward excitedly. “This is just a nigger talkin’, an’ a busted-back nigger. So it don’t mean nothing, see? You couldn’t remember it anyways. I seen it over an’ over—a guy talkin' to another guy and it don’t make no difference if he don’t hear or understand. The thing is, they’re talkin’, or they’re settin’ still not talkin’. It don’t make no difference, no difference.” His excitement had increased until he pounded his knee with this hand. “George can tell you screwy things, and it don’t matter. It’s just the talking. It’s just bein’ with another guy. That’s all.” He paused.
　　His voice grew soft and persuasive. “S’pose George don’t come back no more. S’pose he took a powder and just ain’t coming back. What’ll you do then?”
　　Lennie’s attention came gradually to what had been said. “What?” he demanded.
　　“I said s’pose George went into town tonight and you never heard of him no more.” Crooks pressed forward some kind of private victory. “Just s’pose that,” he repeated.
　　“He won’t do it,” Lennie cried. “George wouldn’t do nothing like that. I been with George a long a time. He’ll come back tonight—” But the doubt was too much for him. “Don’t you think he will?”
　　Crooks’ face lighted with pleasure in his torture. “Nobody can’t tell what a guy’ll do,” he observed calmly. “Le’s say he wants to come back and can’t. S’pose he gets killed or hurt so he can’t come back.”
　　Lennie struggled to understand. “George won’t do nothing like that,” he repeated. “George is careful. He won’t get hurt. He ain’t never been hurt, ‘cause he’s careful.”
　　“Well, s’pose, jus’ s’pose he don’t come back. What’ll you do then?”
　　Lennie’s face wrinkled with apprehension. “I don’ know. Say, what you doin’ anyways?” he cried. “This ain’t true. George ain’t got hurt.”
　　Crooks bored in on him. “Want me ta tell ya what’ll happen? They’ll take ya to the booby hatch. They’ll tie ya up with a collar, like a dog.”
　　Suddenly Lennie’s eyes centered and grew quiet, and mad. He stood up and walked dangerously toward Crooks. “Who hurt George?” he demanded.
　　Crooks saw the danger as it approached him. He edged back on his bunk to get out of the way. “I was just supposin’,” he said. “George ain’t hurt. He’s all right. He’ll be back all right.”
　　Lennie stood over him. “What you supposin’ for? Ain’t nobody goin’ to suppose no hurt to George.”
　　Crooks removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with his fingers. “Jus’ set down,” he said. “George ain’t hurt.”
　　Lennie growled back to his seat on the nail keg. “Ain’t nobody goin’ to talk no hurt to George,” he grumbled.
　　Crooks said gently, “Maybe you can see now. You got George. You know he’s goin’ to come back. S’pose you didn’t have nobody. S’pose you couldn’t go into the bunk house and play rummy ‘cause you was black. How’d you like that? S’pose you had to sit out here an’ read books. Sure you could play horseshoes till it got dark, but then you got to read books. Books ain’t no good. A guy needs somebody—to be near him.” He whined, “A guy goes nuts if he ain’t got nobody. Don’t make no difference who the guy is, long’s he’s with you. I tell ya,” he cried, “I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick.”
　　“George gonna come back,” Lennie reassured himself in a frightened voice. “Maybe George come back already. Maybe I better go see.”
　　Crooks said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. He’ll come back. I was talkin’ about myself. A guy sets alone out here at night, maybe readin’ books or thinkin’ or stuff like that. Sometimes he gets thinkin’, an’ he got nothing to tell him what’s so an’ what ain’t so. Maybe if he sees somethin’, he don’t know whether it’s right or not. He can’t turn to some other guy and ast him if he sees it too. He can’t tell. He got nothing to measure by. I seen things out here. I wasn’t drunk. I don’t know if I was asleep. If some guy was with me, he could tell me I was asleep, an’ then it would be all right. But I jus’ don’t know.” Crooks was looking across the room now, looking toward the window.
　　Lennie said miserably, “George wun’t go away and leave me. I know George wun’t do that.”
　　The stable buck went on dreamily, “I remember when I was a little kid on my old man’s chicken ranch. Had two brothers. They was always near me, always there. Used to sleep right in the same room, right in the same bed—all three. Had a strawberry patch. Had an alfalfa patch. Used to turn the chickens out in the alfalfa on a sunny morning. My brothers’d set on a fence rail an’ watch ‘em—white chickens they was.”
　　Gradually Lennie’s interest came around to what was being said. “George says we’re gonna have alfalfa for the rabbits.”
　　“What rabbits?”
　　“We’re gonna have rabbits an’ a berry patch.”
　　“You’re nuts.”
　　“We are too. You ast George.” 
　　“You’re nuts.” Crooks was scornful. “I seen hunderds of men come by on the road an’ on the ranches, with their bindles on their back an’ that same damn thing in their heads. Hunderds of them. They come, an’ they quit an’ go on; an’ every damn one of ‘em’s got a little piece of land in his head. An’ never a God damn one of ‘em ever gets it. Just like heaven. Ever’body wants a little piece of lan’. I read plenty of books out here. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets no land. It’s just in their head. They’re all the time talkin’ about it, but it’s jus’ in their head.” He paused and looked toward the open door, for the horses were moving restlessly and the halter chains clinked. A horse whinnied. “I guess somebody’s out there,” Crooks said. “Maybe Slim. Slim comes in sometimes two, three times a night. Slim’s a real skinner. He looks out for his team.” He pulled himself painfully upright and moved toward the door. “That you, Slim?” he called.
　　Candy’s voice answered. “Slim went in town. Say, you seen Lennie?”
　　“Ya mean the big guy?”
　　“Yeah. Seen him around any place?”
　　“He’s in here,” Crooks said shortly. He went back to his bunk and lay down.
　　Candy stood in the doorway scratching his bald wrist and looking blindly into the lighted room. He made no attempt to enter. “Tell ya what, Lennie. I been figuring out about them rabbits.”
　　Crooks said irritably, “You can come in if you want.”
　　Candy seemed embarrassed. “I do’ know. ‘Course, if ya want me to.”
　　“Come on in. If ever’body’s comin’ in, you might just as well.” It was difficult for Crooks to conceal his pleasure with anger.
　　Candy came in, but he was still embarrassed, “You got a nice cozy little place in here,” he said to Crooks. “Must be nice to have a room all to yourself this way.”
　　“Sure,” said Crooks. “And a manure pile under the window. Sure, it’s swell.”
　　Lennie broke in, “You said about them rabbits.”
　　Candy leaned against the wall beside the broken collar while he scratched the wrist stump. “I been here a long time,” he said. “An’ Crooks been here a long time. This’s the first time I ever been in his room.”
　　Crooks said darkly, “Guys don’t come into a colored man’s room very much. Nobody been here but Slim. Slim an’ the boss.”
　　Candy quickly changed the subject. “Slim’s as good a skinner as I ever seen.”
　　Lennie leaned toward the old swamper. “About them rabbits,” he insisted.
　　Candy smiled. “I got it figured out. We can make some money on them rabbits if we go about it right.”
　　“But I get to tend ‘em,” Lennie broke in. “George says I get to tend ‘em. He promised.”
　　Crooks interrupted brutally. “You guys is just kiddin’ yourself. You’ll talk about it a hell of a lot, but you won’t get no land. You’ll be a swamper here till they take you out in a box. Hell, I seen too many guys. Lennie here’ll quit an’ be on the road in two, three weeks. Seems like ever’ guy got land in his head.”
　　Candy rubbed his cheek angrily. “You God damn right we’re gonna do it. George says we are. We got the money right now.”
　　“Yeah?” said Crooks. “An’ where’s George now? In town in a whorehouse. That’s where your money’s goin’. Jesus, I seen it happen too many times. I seen too many guys with land in their head. They never get none under their hand.”
　　Candy cried, “Sure they all want it. Everybody wants a little bit of land, not much. Jus’ som’thin’ that was his. Som’thin’ he could live on and there couldn’t nobody throw him off of it. I never had none. I planted crops for damn near ever’body in this state, but they wasn’t my crops, and when I harvested ‘em, it wasn’t none of my harvest. But we gonna do it now, and don’t you make no mistake about that. George ain’t got the money in town. That money’s in the bank. Me an’ Lennie an’ George. We gonna have a room to ourself. We’re gonna have a dog an’ rabbits an’ chickens. We’re gonna have green corn an’ maybe a cow or a goat.” He stopped, overwhelmed with his picture.
　　Crooks asked, “You say you got the money?”
　　“Damn right. We got most of it. Just a little bit more to get. Have it all in one month. George got the land all picked out, too.”
　　Crooks reached around and explored his spine with his hand. “I never seen a guy really do it,” he said. “I seen guys nearly crazy with loneliness for land, but ever’ time a whore house or a blackjack game took what it takes.” He hesitated. “ . . . . If you . . . . guys would want a hand to work for nothing—just his keep, why I’d come an’ lend a hand. I ain’t so crippled I can’t work like a son-of-a-bitch if I want to.”
　　“Any you boys seen Curley?”
　　They swung their heads toward the door. Looking in was Curley’s wife. Her face was heavily made up. Her lips were slightly parted. She breathed strongly, as though she had been running.
　　“Curley ain’t been here,” Candy said sourly.
　　She stood still in the doorway, smiling a little at them, rubbing the nails of one hand with the thumb and forefinger of the other. And her eyes traveled from one face to another. “They left all the weak ones here,” she said finally. “Think I don’t know where they all went? Even Curley. I know where they all went.”
　　Lennie watched her, fascinated; but Candy and Crooks were scowling down away from her eyes. Candy said, “Then if you know, why you want to ast us where Curley is at?”
　　She regarded them amusedly. “Funny thing,” she said. “If I catch any one man, and he’s alone, I get along fine with him. But just let two of the guys get together an’ you won’t talk. Jus’ nothing but mad.” She dropped her fingers and put her hands on her hips. “You’re all scared of each other, that’s what. Ever’ one of you’s scared the rest is goin’ to get something on you.”
　　After a pause Crooks said, “Maybe you better go along to your own house now. We don’t want no trouble.”
　　“Well, I ain’t giving you no trouble. Think I don’t like to talk to somebody ever’ once in a while? Think I like to stick in that house alla time?”
　　Candy laid the stump of his wrist on his knee and rubbed it gently with his hand. He said accusingly, “You gotta husban’. You got no call foolin’ aroun’ with other guys, causin’ trouble.” 
　　The girl flared up. “Sure I gotta husban’. You all seen him. Swell guy, ain’t he? Spends all his time sayin’ what he’s gonna do to guy she don’t like, and he don’t like nobody. Think I’m gonna stay in that two-by-four house and listen how Curley’s gonna lead with his left twicet, and then bring in the ol’ right cross? ‘One-two,’ he says. ‘Jus’ the ol’ one-two an’ he’ll go down.’” She paused and her face lost its sullenness and grew interested. “Say—what happened to Curley’s han’?”
　　There was an embarrassed silence. Candy stole a look at Lennie. Then he coughed. “Why . . . . Curley . . . . he got his han’ caught in a machine, ma’am. Bust his han’.”
　　She watched for a moment, and then she laughed. “Baloney! What you think you’re sellin’ me? Curley started som’pin’ he didn’ finish. Caught in a machine—baloney! Why, he ain’t give nobody the good ol’ one-two since he got his han’ bust. Who bust him?”
　　Candy repeated sullenly, “Got it caught in a machine.”
　　“Awright,” she said contemptuously. “Awright, cover ‘im up if ya wanta. Whatta I care? You bindle bums think you’re so damn good. Whatta ya think I am, a kid? I tell ya I could of went with shows. Not jus’ one, neither. An’ a guy tol’ me he could put me in pitchers . . . .” She was breathless with indignation. “—Sat’iday night. Ever’body out doin’ som’pin’. Ever’body! An’ what am I doin’? Standin’ here talkin’ to a bunch of bindle stiffs—a nigger an’ a dum-dum and a lousy ol’ sheep—an’ likin’ it because they ain’t nobody else.”
　　Lennie watched her, his mouth half open. Crooks had retired into the terrible protective dignity of the Negro. But a change came over old Candy. He stood up suddenly and knocked his nail keg over backward. “I had enough,” he said angrily. “You ain’t wanted here. We told you you ain’t. An’ I tell ya, you got floozy idears about what us guys amounts to. You ain’t got sense enough in that chicken head to even see that we ain’t stiffs. S’pose you get us canned. S’pose you do. You think we’ll hit the highway an’ look for another lousy two-bit job like this. You don’t know that we got our own ranch to go to, an’ our own house. We ain’t got to stay here. We gotta house and chickens an’ fruit trees an’ a place a hunderd time prettier than this. An’ we got fren’s, that’s what we got. Maybe there was a time when we was scared of gettin’ canned, but we ain’t no more. We got our own lan’, and it’s ours, an’ we c’n go to it.”
　　Curley’s wife laughed at him. “Baloney,” she said. “I seen too many you guys. If you had two bits in the worl’, why you’d be in gettin’ two shots of corn with it and suckin’ the bottom of the glass. I know you guys.”
　　Candy’s face had grown redder and redder, but before she was done speaking, he had control of himself. He was the master of the situation. “I might of knew,” he said gently. “Maybe you just better go along an’ roll your hoop. We ain’t got nothing to say to you at all. We know what we got, and we don’t care whether you know it or not. So maybe you better jus’ scatter along now, ‘cause Curley maybe ain’t gonna like his wife out in the barn with us ‘bindle stiffs.’”
　　She looked from one face to another, and they were all closed against her. And she looked longest at Lennie, until he dropped his eyes in embarrassment. Suddenly she said, “Where’d you get them bruises on your face?”
　　Lennie looked up guiltily. “Who—me?”
　　“Yeah, you.”
　　Lennie looked to Candy for help, and then he looked at his lap again. “He got his han’ caught in a machine,” he said.
　　Curley’s wife laughed. “O.K., Machine. I’ll talk to you later. I like machines.”
　　Candy broke in. “You let this guy alone. Don’t you do no messing aroun’ with him. I’m gonna tell George what you says. George won’t have you messin’ with Lennie.”
　　“Who’s George?” she asked. “The little guy you come with?”
　　Lennie smiled happily. “That’s him,” he said. “That’s the guy, an’ he’s gonna let me tend the rabbits.”
　　“Well, if that’s all you want, I might get a couple rabbits myself.”
　　Crooks stood up from his bunk and faced her. “I had enough,” he said coldly. “You got no rights comin’ in a colored man’s room. You got no rights messing around in here at all. Now you jus’ get out, an’ get out quick. If you don’t, I’m gonna ast the boss not to ever let you come in the barn no more.”
　　She turned on him in scorn. “Listen, Nigger,” she said. “You know what I can do to you if you open your trap?”
　　Crooks stared hopelessly at her, and then he sat down on his bunk and drew into himself.
　　She closed on him. “You know what I could do?”
　　Crooks seemed to grow smaller, and he pressed himself against the wall. “Yes, ma’am.”
　　“Well, you keep your place then, Nigger. I could get you strung upon a tree so easy it ain’t even funny.”
　　Crooks had reduced himself to nothing. There was no personality, no ego—nothing to arouse either like or dislike. He said, “Yes, ma’am,” and his voice was toneless.
　　For a moment she stood over him as though waiting for him to move so that she could whip at him again; but Crooks sat perfectly still, his eyes averted, everything that might be hurt drawn in. She turned at last to the other two.
　　Old Candy was watching her, fascinated. “If you was to do that, we’d tell,” he said quietly. “We’d tell about you framin’ Crooks.”
　　“Tell an’ be damned,” she cried. “Nobody’d listen to you, an’ you know it. Nobody’d listen to you.”
　　Candy subsided. “No . . . .” he agreed. “Nobody’d listen to us.”
　　Lennie whined, “I wisht George was here. I wisht George was here.”
　　Candy stepped over to him. “Don’t you worry none,” he said. “I jus’ heard the guys comin’ in. George’ll be in the bunk house right now, I bet.” He turned to Curley’s wife. “You better go home now,” he said quietly. “If you go right now, we won’t tell Curley you was here.”
　　She appraised him coolly. “I ain’t sure you heard nothing.”
　　“Better not take no chances,” he said. “If you ain’t sure, you better take the safe way.”
　　She turned to Lennie. “I’m glad you bust up Curley a little bit. He got it comin’ to him. Sometimes I’d like to bust him myself.” She slipped out the door and disappeared into the dark barn. And while she went through the barn, the halter chains rattled, and some horses snorted and some stamped their feet.
　　Crooks seemed to come slowly out of the layers of protection he had put on. “Was that the truth what you said about the guys come back?” he asked.
　　“Sure. I heard ‘em.”
　　“Well, I didn’t hear nothing.”
　　“The gate banged,” Candy said, and he went on, “Jesus Christ, Curley’s wife can move quiet. I guess she had a lot of practice, though.”
　　Crooks avoided the whole subject now. “Maybe you guys better go,” he said. “I ain’t sure I want you in here no more. A colored man got to have some rights even if he don’t like ‘em.”
　　Candy said, “That bitch didn’t ought to of said that to you.”
　　“It wasn’t nothing,” Crooks said dully. “You guys comin’ in an’ settin’ made me forget. What she says is true.”
　　The horses snorted out in the barn and the chains rang and a voice called, “Lennie. Oh, Lennie. You in the barn?” 
　　“It’s George,” Lennie cried. And he answered, “Here, George. I’m right in here.”
　　In a second George stood framed in the door, and he looked disapprovingly about. “What you doin’ in Crooks’ room? You hadn’t ought to be here.”
　　Crooks nodded. “I tol’ ‘em, but they come in anyways.”
　　“Well, why’n’t you kick ‘em out?”
　　“I di’n’t care much,” said Crooks. “Lennie’s a nice fella.”
　　Now Candy aroused himself. “Oh, George! I been figurin’ and figurin’. I got it doped out how we can even make some money on them rabbits.”
　　George scowled. “I thought I tol’ you not to tell nobody about that.” 
　　Candy was crestfallen. “Didn’t tell nobody but Crooks.”
　　George said, “Well you guys get outa here. Jesus, seems like I can’t go away for a minute.”
　　Candy and Lennie stood up and went toward the door. Crooks called, “Candy!”
　　“Huh?”
　　“’Member what I said about hoein’ and doin’ odd jobs?”
　　“Yeah,” said Candy. “I remember.”
　　“Well, jus’ forget it,” said Crooks. “I didn’t mean it. Jus’ foolin’. I wouldn’ want to go no place like that.”
　　“Well, O.K., if you feel like that. Good night.”
　　The three men went out of the door. As they went through the barn the horses snorted and the halter chains rattled.
Crooks sat on his bunk and looked at the door for a moment, and then he reached for the liniment bottle. He pulled out his shirt in back, poured a little liniment in his pink palm and, reaching around, he fell slowly to rubbing his back.
第 四 章
库鲁克斯，这黑鬼，马房长工，有一个铺位在马具房里；这马具房是一间斜靠着畜舍墙壁的小小的棚屋。这小棚屋的一边，开着一扇四块玻璃合起来的方形窗户，另一边是一道通往畜舍的木板门。库鲁克斯的床是一个给麦杆塞满了的匣子，他的铺盖就在那上面摊开着。有很多的挂钉被钉在靠窗口的墙上，在那上面挂着须逐一修理的马具，新的皮带；窗子下面是一张小小的工作台，上面摆满了加工皮革的工具，缝针呀，弯刀呀，麻线捆呀，还有一副手动的钉皮机。挂钉上也有许多诸如此类的马具：一根折断了的轭上的曲棒，一只马鬃毛插了出来的裂了的轭，一条皮包裂开了的挽链。库鲁克斯的铺位上头也有一只小箱子，一排预备给自己和马匹用的药水瓶在那里面摆着。柏油罐旁边搁着好几罐洗马鞍的肥皂水，一小罐柏油，漆帚。散在地板上的是些私人物件；因为在这儿他是一个人住，所以也就用不着收拾东西，可以乱丢；又加上他是个残废的马房长工，和别人比起来总要呆得久长，因此他积集下来的什物，已经把他自己能背得起来的限度超过了。
库鲁克斯有一双长统胶靴，几双鞋子，一只大闹钟，和一支单膛鸟枪。书，他也有：一本给翻得很破烂了的字典，一本翻得残旧了的一九0五年度加里福尼亚州的民事法规。还有几份破损的杂志和几本满是灰尘的书。他的铺位上头另外一个架子上搁着一对阔大的金边眼镜，在他床头墙壁的一枚挂钉上挂着。
这房间是打扫过的，非常洁净，因为库鲁克斯是一个孤僻而骄傲的人。待人他总是保持着他的距离，同样也要求别人保持他们的距离。由于佝偻的脊骨他的身体向左倾斜，眼睛深陷在头壳内，由于它们陷得是那么地深，竟仿佛是在强烈地闪烁着似的，一道道深深的黑色皱纹显现在他瘦削的脸庞上，而他那两片苦痛地绷紧着的、薄薄的嘴唇，倒比脸孔有着一点光亮。
这是星期六晚上。透过敞开着的通往畜舍的门，传来马匹动作的响声，麦草被牙齿咬啮着的咀嚼声，踢脚声以及缰链的嘀嗒声。马房长工的屋子里，一个小而圆的电灯泡散发出发黄的微弱亮光。
库鲁克斯在他的床铺上坐着。他的衬衫后幅从裤头里扯了出来。他的一只手里握着一瓶风湿药水，另一只手正在擦着他的背脊。他不时将几滴药水倒在淡红色的手掌心里，然后将手伸到衬衫下面擦起来。因为要扭过来他的手腕才能擦到背脊，因而肌肉在颤动着。
李奈悄悄地出现在敞开着的门边，他站在那儿往里瞧，那扇门几乎刚好给他宽阔的双肩塞满。好一阵子库鲁克斯都没看见他，但当库鲁克斯抬起头来时，却一下怔住了，突然他脸上现出了一种不快之感。他将手从衬衣底下拔出来。
李奈无助地对他笑了笑，表示他的友意。
库鲁克斯态度严厉地说：“这儿是我的房间，你没有权利进到我的屋里来。除了我，没有人有权利进来。”
李奈屏住气，他的笑容变得更加恳切了起来。“我没做什么，”他说。“我只是到畜舍来看看我的小狗。我瞧见你的灯亮着，”他解释道。
“唔，我有权利把一盏灯打开的。你赶快出去，我不要进你们的宿舍，你也不要到我房里来。”
“为什么你不要呢？”
“因为我是个黑人。他们在那儿玩牌，可我却因为我是黑人，不能玩。他们说我臭。呸，我对你说，在我看来，你们这些人统统都是臭的哩。”
李奈无助地将他那粗大的双手摆动着。“全都进城去了，”他说。“佐治和施琳他们都去了。佐治吩咐我在这儿呆着，不要闹乱子。我看见你屋里的灯亮着。”
“唔，你想怎么样？”
“没什么———我看见你屋里的灯亮着。我想我可以进来坐一会。”
库鲁克斯盯着李奈，他把伸到背后取下他那副挂着的眼镜，将它戴在他那两只赭红的耳朵上，又再仔细往李奈身上看着。“我真不明白你到畜舍里来是干什么的，”他抱怨说。“你又不是马车工。无论怎样他们也不会叫个肩工到畜舍来的。你不是马车工。马匹跟你不相干。”
“小狗，”李奈再次说。“我来看我的小狗。”
“唔，那么就去看你的小狗好了，不需要你进来的地方，你可别进来。”
李奈脸上的笑容消失了。他朝房里踏进了一步，马上想起了什么似的，又退回到门口。“我只看它们一下子。佐治吩咐我别把它们摸得太狠。”
库鲁克斯说：“对啦，你常常从窝里把它们捉出来。那母狗要不给它们搬个地方我看那才怪呢。”
“哦，它不介意的。它随我的便。”李奈又把脚踏进房里来。
库鲁克斯的眉头皱了起来了，但李奈的憨笑消除了他的戒备。“进来坐一会吧，”库鲁克斯说。“你可以坐一会，直到你想出去把我独自一个人留下来。”他的语气略为变得友好一点了。“小伙子们都到镇上去了，呃？”
“都去了，只余下甘德。他在工棚里坐着，削着铅笔，边削边计算着呢。”
库鲁克斯把他的眼镜正了一下。“计算？甘德在计算什么呀？”
李奈差不多是高声叫了起来：“计算着那些兔子呀。”
“你见鬼，”库鲁克斯说。“你傻得跟块死木头似的。什么兔子呀你讲？”
“那些我们就要有着的兔子，它们我管，我割草给它们吃，给它们喂水呀什么的。”
“真是活见鬼，”库鲁克斯说。“怪不得那个和你同来的角儿不让你在他身边跟着。”
李奈平心静气地说：“这是真的。我们就要干起来了。就要有一小块地，靠自己的土地过活了。”
库鲁克斯换了个姿势让自己更舒适地在床位上坐好。“坐下来吧，”他邀请说。“在铁钉桶上坐一会儿。”
李奈弯下身去，坐在了那个小木桶上面。
“你以为这是假的，”李奈说，“这才不是假话哪。句句都是真的，你可以问佐治。”
库鲁克斯把淡红色的手掌支在他那黝黑的下巴上。“你是跟佐治打帮走地方的吧，是不是？”
“嗯。我同他到哪里都是一块儿去的。”
库鲁克斯说下去。“他有时候同你讲话，你听不明白他讲的什么鸟。是不是？”他身体向前倾，用那深陷下去的双眼直刺着李奈。“是不是呢？”
“嗯……是这样的，有时。”
“讲话是白讲，什么鸟意思的你全都听不懂吧？”
“是……有时是这样。但……并不都是这样。”
库鲁克斯把身体更往前倾到了床沿外面。“我不是南方的黑人，”他说。“我就出生在这儿，加里福尼亚。我父亲有个大约十亩左右宽的小养鸡场。白人孩子来我们家玩，有时我也去找他们玩。他们里头有些是挺好的。但这我父亲不喜欢。往后一直好久，我总不明白为什么他不喜欢，但现在我知道了。”他迟疑了一下。再讲下去时声音变得柔和了。“第二家黑人在这儿周围的几哩地内是找不出来的。再也没有一个黑人了这个农场，在梭利戴德也只有一家。”他笑了起来。“倘使有些什么被我说了，唉，那也只是一个黑人说的罢了。”
李奈问道：“你看还得多长时间呢？还得多长时间那些小狗才经得起玩呢？”
库鲁克斯又笑了起来。“天啊，人家跟你讲话，绝不怕你会把它们泄露出去。———过两个星期那些狗儿就玩得啦。佐治到底是怎么着的，他自己知道。他只是讲讲，可你什么鸟也听不懂。”他起劲地把身体往前倾。“这不过是一个黑人，而且是个脊骨折了的黑人说的话。所以这都是些无所谓的话，你懂吗？你不会再记起来的。我见过很多很多的了———一个人跟另一个人谈话，那是没有什么关系的，要是对方听不见或者听不明白。这是说，没有什么不同，都一样。他们谈话也好，在那儿光坐着不谈话也好。”他的兴奋一直在有增无已，直到他用手拍了一下他的膝头。“佐治会对你讲许多有意思的东西，可什么用处也没有。只是白讲罢了。只不过是在对着另一个人谈话罢了。就这么回事。”他顿了一下。
他的声音变得柔和而富于说服力。“也许佐治不回来了。也许他再也不回来了，就此逃掉那你怎么办？”
这句话的意思李奈逐渐地领会到了。“什么”？他问。
“我说，也许今晚佐治进城去，他的下落你就再也听不见了。”库鲁克斯将某种暗自以为的胜利向前推进着。“这只是也许罢了，”他重复说。
“他不会这样，”李奈叫起来。“佐治不会这样做的。很久了我同佐治在一起。今天晚上他一定会回来的……”可是对他来说这个怀疑实在是太可怕了。“你看他会不回来的吗？”
库鲁克斯由于他的恶作剧而高兴得整张脸亮堂起来。“一个人会怎么样谁也说不准，”他平静地评论道。“让我们假设他想回来，可是却回不来。假设他受了伤或被人杀死了，那么他便回不来了。”
李奈拚命地领会着。“佐治不会这样的，”他重复道。“佐治很谨慎。他不会受伤的。他永远不会受伤，因为他很谨慎。”
“唔，假设呀，只是假设他不回来。那你怎么办？”
因为担忧李奈的脸庞上涌起了皱纹。“我弄不懂。喂，你这是什么意思？”他叫嚷道。“这不会是真的。佐治不会受伤的。”
库鲁克斯的眼睛直瞅住他。“要我告诉你到那时会有什么事情发生吗？他们会把你捉去坐牢。会象勒一条狗似的在你的脖子上套上一条铁链把你勒紧。”
突然李奈的眼睛凝住了，并且变得镇静和愤怒起来。他站起身来，危险地向库鲁克斯走过去，诘问道：“谁要伤害佐治？”
库鲁克斯看出危险已迫在眉睫。他一闪退回到了床上，试着把事情转圈。“我只是假设罢了，”他说。“佐治他好好的。并没有受伤。他准会好好地回来的。”
“你假设这个做什么？谁也不会去假设佐治受伤的。”李奈抢到他跟前。
库鲁克斯取下眼镜，用手指擦了擦眼睛。“坐下来吧，”他说。“佐治没有受伤。”
李奈悻悻然回到那个铁钉桶的座位上。“谁也不会去讲佐治受伤的，”他抱怨道。
库鲁克斯慢条斯理地开腔了。“也许现在你会明白过来了吧。你有佐治。他会回来你知道。假如谁你也没有呢？假如因为你是黑种，就不能走到工棚里面去跟别人一起玩牌，那你会怎么样？假如你只好在这外边坐着，看点书。是的，等天黑下来，马蹄铁赛你也可以玩一玩，但跟着你还是只得看书。没有多大好处，书。一个人需要有个谁———靠近着他。”他悲伤了起来。“要是他得不到一个谁和他靠近，一个人会蠢下去的。都一样，不管这个人是谁，和他在一块有多久。我告诉你，”他叫嚷起来，“我告诉你吧，一个人要是太孤独了，他会生病的啊。”
“佐治一定会回来的，”李奈用一个惊魂未定的声音来安抚他自己。“佐治也许已经回来了。也许最好我去瞧瞧看。”
库鲁克斯说：“我不是想吓你。他会回来的。我是在讲我自己。一个人夜里独自在这外边呆着，也许是想点事情或看点书或干别的什么。有时他想了又想，但没有谁告诉他什么是这样，什么不是这样。有时也许有点什么给他瞧了出来，但他不知道对还是不对。他不能找别人问问，这个是不是别人也瞧出来过。他不能谈。他找不到什么东西来给自己对不对做衡量。好些事给我在这外边瞧了出来。我并没喝醉。我可是睡着了我不知道。他会告诉我说我睡着了，要有个谁同我在一块。那么它就会是千真万确的了。但我可一点也不知道。”此刻库鲁克斯的视线是从这房子横穿过去，朝窗口望出去。
李奈凄恻地说：“佐治不会把我丢开自己跑掉的。佐治不会这么做的我知道。”
马房长工做梦似地讲着：“我记得我有两个兄弟，当我还是个孩子，在我老人家的养鸡场上的时候。他们经常靠近我，时常在一块儿。总是同住在一个房间里，同睡在一张床上———三个人在一起。有一块草莓地。有一块紫花苜蓿地。在有太阳光的早上，总是把小鸡赶到紫花苜蓿中间去，我们兄弟们就会在一道篱栅上坐着，看守着那些小鸡———多么洁白的小鸡啊。”
渐渐地李奈对这段话感到有兴味了。“佐治说我们就快要有用来喂兔子的紫花苜蓿啦。”
“什么兔子？”
“我们就要有一块土地和兔子了。”
“你见鬼。”
“真的我们要有哩。你问佐治。”
“你见鬼。”库鲁克斯用着嘲讽的语气。“我见过成百成千人背上驮着个包捆，头脑里却都藏着这么个鬼东西，流荡在路上，来到农场里。千打千的人们。他们走了又来，来了又走，每个角儿的脑袋里都有着一小块土地。可是呢，从来没有见过哪一个鬼人得到过。每个人都想要一小块土地。正象天堂那样。呆在这外边我读过好些书。天堂没有谁去过，土地也没有谁得到过。都不过是在他们的头脑里面藏着罢了。它无时无刻不被他们讲着，但那只是在他们头脑里罢了。”他停了话音，朝那敞开着的门望去，因为马匹不停地骚动起来，缰链在丁当地响着。一匹马嘶叫了起来。“有个谁在外边我料想。”库鲁克斯说。“可能是施琳。施琳有时每天夜里要到畜舍来两三次的。他是个真正的马车工。他时刻关顾着他的牲口的。”他痛苦地将身子直起，朝门口走过去。“施琳，是你吧？”他叫唤道。
回答他的却是甘德的声音。“施琳上镇里去了。喂，李奈你有看见吗？”
“你说的是那个大个子吧？”
“对。在什么地方看见过他吗？”
“他在这儿。”库鲁克斯简洁地回答道。他踱回到自己的床前，躺了下去。
甘德在门口边上站着，搔着他那截秃腕，茫然地往这有灯光的房间里面瞧。他并不准备进去。“李奈，告诉你吧。那些兔子的账我已经把它计算出来了哩。”
库鲁克斯有点着恼地说：“你要进来，就进来好了。”
甘德象是很为难似的。“该不该进来我不知道。当然喽，你要是想我进来，那我就进来吧。”
“进来吧。你也可以进来的，要是谁都进得来。”库鲁克斯很难将他的欢喜用恼怒掩盖住。
甘德进来了，但他还是很难为情的样子。“在这儿你有一个很舒服的小房间呢，”他对库鲁克斯说。“这会是很忄匿意的吧，象这样有一间全归你自己的房间？”
“对了，”库鲁克斯说。“窗口下面还有着一个肥料堆呢。当然这是最漂亮的了。”
他的话被李奈打断了。“你讲那些兔子呀。”
甘德斜凭着墙，在他旁边是一根折了的轭，他一面搔着他那半截的腕一面说：“我在这儿很久了，库鲁克斯在这儿也很久了。这还是头一次，我到他房里来。”
库鲁克斯黯然地说：“除掉施琳，人们都不怎么到一个黑人的房子里来的。除掉施琳跟经理，就没有谁来了。”
甘德赶紧把话题转了出去。“施琳真是所有我见过里面的最好的马车工。”
李奈挨向这个老打杂。“讲那兔子的事情呀，”他紧追不舍。
甘德笑着。“我把它算出来了。是可以在兔子上头捞到一点钱的，要是我们干得好的话。”
“我可是要管兔子的，”李奈插嘴说。“佐治说过兔子归我管。他答应过我的。”
一旁的库鲁克斯煞风景地插了进来。“不过是骗自己，你们这些傻角。就准你们讲得天花乱坠，也不会有什么鸟土地给你们得着。你呢，直到你被他们用个箱子当棺材抬出去，也还是个打杂工。哧，我看见过太多的脚色了。李奈呢，约摸两三个星期的样子，就要溜掉，在公路上流荡了。象每个头脑里有着土地的角儿们一样。”
甘德气愤地擦着他的腮帮子。“我们可是真干得起来的，你别他妈的胡扯。佐治说我们成。钱都预备好了我们。”
“是吗？”库鲁克斯说。“可是佐治现在上哪儿去了啊？到镇上去了，在一个窑子里。你们的钱就在那儿给化个精光了。天啊，我见过太多了这种事。我见过许多脑袋里有一小块土地的脚色。但他们得不着，土地永远也到不了他们手上。”
甘德叫道：“当然他们都想要。一小块地任谁都想要。不想多，只想有一点属于他自己的东西，在那上面他可以过日子，谁也不能赶他出去。我就没有得到过。我为了他妈的这个州几乎所有的人种粮食，但我自己的粮食我却没有，当我收割呢，一星半点儿也不属于我自己的收成。可是呀，你可别看错啦，这回我们真要干起来了。佐治上城去身上没带钱。钱在银行里存着哩。我跟佐治跟李奈，我们就要有一间自己的房子了。我们就要有田里的绿油油的麦子。我们就要有一只狗和好些兔子和小鸡了，没准还会有一头山羊或母牛了。”他停了下来，整个人沉浸到了那幅自己遐想的画幅里去了。
“你们有了钱了你说？”库鲁克斯问道。
“当然。我们有了很多呢，只要再添上一点点就够了。一个月里边就可以全都凑够了。地佐治也找好了的呢，唔。”
库鲁克斯把手伸到脊梁上，四处按探着，摸了又摸。“一个角儿真正干得起来我还从来都没有看见过，”他说。“我看见为了土地，人们自个儿想得几乎要发狂了，可是，每一回总是赌博或者妓馆把什么都搞个精光。”他犹豫了一下。“……要是你们……几个角儿肯要个不求什么，只求能把自己的一张口养活的帮手呢，我也想参加一份。总不会这么孱头，总不能象个狗养的那样干活呀，要是我参加进来。”
“你们几个有谁看见顾利吗？”
他们拧过头来，朝门口一看，原来是顾利老婆正在往屋子里张望哩。她的脸是浓妆艳抹过一番的。两块口唇略略分开。象是才跑完步似的，在费力地透气。
“顾利没在这儿，”甘德酸溜溜地说。
她仍在门口边站着，朝着他们微笑，用自己一只手的食指和拇指轻揉着另一只手的一排指甲。她的目光把他们逐张脸孔地掠了一遍。“残弱的都给他们留在这儿了，”终于她说道。“他们上哪儿去了以为我不知道？连顾利一起。嘿，他们统统到什么地方去了我知道的。”
李奈着了迷似地盯着她，然而库鲁克斯和甘德却垂下眉毛，避开了她的眼睛。甘德说：“既然你知道了，干吗还来问我们顾利在哪儿？”
她很赏心似地定睛望定他们。“多奇怪的事，”她说。“要是随便一个人给我碰着，他自己一个儿，我总跟他玩得挺开心的。但只要有两个角儿在一块，你们就不愿讲话。不过在斗气，没有什么的。”她放下手指，将双手搁在屁股后头。“就这么回事，你们都是互相害怕的。你们谁都怕别的在场的人会搞自己。”
稍停了一会，库鲁克斯说：“此刻你也许还是赶紧回你屋里去的好吧。我们不想找麻烦。”
“啊，我不给你们招麻烦。认为我总不想跟个谁谈一会儿话的？以为我爱一天到晚在那鬼屋子里头呆着？”
甘德的那一截木棒似的腕被他搁在膝盖上，他用手轻缓地抚着它。他用谴责的语气说：“你是有丈夫的呀。你犯不着跟别人耍花枪，惹出事情来。”
忽然这女人发作了起来。“是啦，我有丈夫。他是你们都看见过的。他是漂亮的人儿呀，是吧？整天的时间全都被他花费在讲他要怎样对付那么他不喜欢的角儿，而他呀，没有哪个人是他喜欢的。以为我愿意呆在那两进四开间的屋子里，听顾利吹他怎样把左拳抡起来打了两下，然后又把右拳照老样子带过来？‘一，二，’他说。‘只要照老样子一，二，这么两下，他就要倒到地上去了。’”她煞住话，脸上的愠怒消失了，变得动人起来。“喂，顾利的手是怎么回事？”
一阵难堪的沉默。甘德偷偷地望了李奈一眼。接着他咳嗽了几声。“哦……顾利嘛……他的手碰到一架机器上头哩，太太。他的手给辗断了。”
她不作声地看了他们一会儿，然后大笑了起来。“你胡扯！你想拿什么来骗我？准是有什么事给顾利惹下来，可他又对付不了。碰 到 一 架 机 器 上 头———只 管 瞎 扯！嘿，他 再 不 给 谁‘一，二’这么了不起的两下子了，自从断了手后。他的手是给谁打断的？”
甘德满心不高兴地重复一遍：“给一架机器辗断的。”
“好，好”她傲然地说。“要瞒你们就瞒住好了。我怕什么？你们这群昏蛋，还当自己是这么利索来着呢。你们把我当作什么，当作一个小孩吗？嘿，我跟你们说，我可以跟歌舞班子去演出过的。还不止一个班子呢。还有人跟我说过，他能介绍我拍片子……”她气得快要不能透气。“———一个个到外头耍去了。统统去了！星期六晚上。我在干什么的？站在这儿跟一堆废物讲话———一条大傻瓜，一个黑鬼，一只虱子满身的老绵羊。我还高兴着呢，因为别的人一个也走光了。”
李奈一瞬不瞬地望定她，他的嘴巴半开着。库鲁克斯退归于那种一个黑人的、可怕的、借以自卫的庄严。但甘德却来了一个转变。突然他站起身来，那个充当座位的铁钉桶一下子给他撞到后面去了。“够啦够啦，”他冒火地说。“我们不要你到这儿来。我们告诉你，不要你来。告诉你吧，这也不是你这鸟脑瓜子懂得的，究竟我们这些人算得什么。你那个鸟脑瓜子根本就不配辨别出我们并不是废物。我们也许会被你害得给开除掉。你也许会这么做。你以为我们会流浪到公路上去，再找一个象这里一般饿不死吃不饱的活儿干吧。你不知道我们有了自己的农场可去了，还有自己的房子哩。我们不一定非得在这儿呆着。我们有房子，有果树，有小鸡，有比这儿好百倍的地方。我们还有朋友。有这许多东西，也许我们还会有一次怕给开除，但只有这一次了。以后我们再也不会怕了。我们有自己的土地，它是属于我们的，我们就可以去得的。”
顾利老婆哈哈地大笑了起来。“这才叫人感到好笑呀，”她说。“我见得多了你们这样的角儿。你们要是有了两个铜子的身家，你们就会把它拿去换两杯酒喝，连杯底都会舐得净光。你们这些脚色我晓得的。”
甘德给气得一张脸红了又红，但他是个善于观察形势的人，在她没说完之前，他还是把自己抑制住了。“这我自然懂得，”他慢条斯理地说。“你也许还是走开，去管你自己的事情为妙。总之一句话，我们不想跟你说什么。我们有什么东西我们知道，你知道不知道，我们管不着。你还是快点儿溜开去的好我看，顾利不会高兴他的老婆浪到畜舍里来跟我们这些‘废物’搅和在一起的。”
她把他们逐张脸孔地瞧了一遍，他们都避开不看她。李奈给她瞧得最久，直把李奈难堪得垂下眼睛来。突然她问道：“你脸上的血淤是从哪儿来的？”
李奈作贼心虚地抬起眼来。“谁———我？”
“对，你。”
李奈望向甘德求援，接着，他的眼睛又转回来看着自己的漆头，说：“他的手碰到一架机器上头哩。”
顾利老婆哈哈大笑了起来。“O?K.，机器。迟些我再来告诉你吧。我喜欢机器呢。”
甘德在一旁插进话来。“你别缠上这条汉子。你可别跟他搞什么鬼。回头我告诉佐治去把你的话。佐治不会让你跟李奈搞鬼的。”
“佐治是谁？”她问。“就是那个和你同来的小个子？”
李奈高兴地笑了。“就是他，”他说。“就是那角儿，他答应兔子归我管的。”
“啊，那容易，要是你想要的只是这个，我自己也弄得到一对兔子来给你。”
库鲁克斯从他的床位站起身来盯着她。“我忍不住了，”他冷冷地说。“一个黑人的房间你没有有权利到里面来。你没有权利在这儿招摇生事。你必须马上就出去，赶快滚开。否则，我告诉经理不许你再到畜舍来。”
她把脸转过来，用蔑视的态度朝向库鲁克斯。“听着，黑鬼，”她说。“我能够怎样对付你你是知道的吧？要是你来捣蛋。”
库鲁克斯没有丝毫办法地盯着她，然后在自己的床上坐下来，瑟缩着。
她逼近他跟前。“我会怎么做你是知道的吧？”
霎时间库鲁克斯似乎变得渺小了，他把自己靠着墙壁蜷成一团。“是，太太。”
“嘿，那么你就该识相些，黑鬼。我可以把你吊在一棵树上，还算不得有趣呢，那么便当。”
库鲁克斯被自己退缩到了一无所有的地步了。没有了自我，没有了身份———所有的一切可以将爱或憎唤起来的东西都没有了。他说：“是的，太太，”他的声音是失去了腔调的。
她逼近着他站了好半天，等他一有什么动静就要再次向他示威；但库鲁克斯却是一动不动地在那儿坐着，他的目光是畏避的，所有可能被伤害的一切都蜷缩了进去。终于她把脸转过来朝向另外两个了。
老甘德在迷惘地注视着她。“你要是真这么做呢，我们就把它讲开去，”他恬然地道。“我们准说你打库鲁克斯的主意。”
“顶个屁，随便讲去好了，”她叫道。“没有人会听你的，这你知道。你们的话没有人会听的。”
甘德退缩了回来。“没有，”他表示同意地道。“———我们的话没有人会听的。”
李奈悲嚎起来：“我想要佐治在这儿。我想要佐治在这儿。”
甘德偎近他身边。“你别担心，”他说。“那些角儿们刚才我听见他们回来了。我敢打赌，现在佐治准是在工棚里了哩。”
他转过脸来朝着顾利老婆。“现在你最好是回家去，”他平心静气地说。“你要是现在回去呢，我们便不把你来过这里的事告诉顾利。”
她冷冷地估量他，说：“我不相信你有听见什么。”
“还是不要图侥幸的好，”他说。“还是选稳当的路走的好，即便是你不相信。”
她转过来对着李奈。“我高兴你教训了顾利一下子。他自个儿招来的。我有时真想自己动手来揍他呢。”她从房门溜了出去，隐没在了漆黑的畜舍中。缰链丁当地响了起来，当她打畜舍走过的时候，一匹马在喷鼻，一些马在嗒嗒地顿脚。
库鲁克斯似乎缓缓地从刚才他的防卫布置中解脱出来了。“是真的吗？你说他们回来了。”他问。
“嗯。我听见哩。”
“唔，我什么也没听见。”
“大门给砰的关上哩，”甘德说，接着又讲下去，“天啊，顾利老婆能够静静儿走开。她还会要耍一大堆的赖皮呢，本来我猜想。”
现在整个这个话题库鲁克斯都要避开了。“也许你们还是走开的好吧，”他说。“我不想要你们再在这儿呆着了。即使是他不怎么喜欢，一个黑人总得有一点权利。”
甘德说：“那母狗不该对你讲那样的话。”
“没什么，”库鲁克斯黯然地说。“我有点忘乎所以了，因为你们两个进来坐。都是真的呀她说的话。”
畜舍外边，马打着喷鼻，缰链又一次丁当响起来，一个声音叫喊道：“李奈。啊，李奈。在畜舍里吗，你？&rdquo
Chapter 5
　　ne end of the great barn was piled high with new hay and over the pile hung the four-taloned Jackson fork suspended from its pulley. The hay came down like a mountain slope to the other end of the barn, and there was a level place as yet unfilled with the new crop. At the sides the feeding racks were visible, and between the slats the heads of horses could be seen.
　　It was Sunday afternoon. The resting horses nibbled the remaining wisps of hay, and they stamped their feet and they bit the wood of the mangers and rattled the halter chains. The afternoon sun sliced in through the cracks of the barn walls and lay in bright lines on the hay. There was the buzz of flies in the air, the lazy afternoon humming.
　　From outside came the clang of horseshoes on the playing peg and the shouts of men, playing, encouraging, jeering. But in the barn it was quiet and humming and lazy and warm.
　　Only Lennie was in the barn, and Lennie sat in the hay beside a packing case under a manger in the end of the barn that had not been filled with hay. Lennie sat in the hay and looked at a little dead puppy that lay in front of him. Lennie looked at it for a long time, and then he put out his huge hand and stroked it, stroked it clear from one end to the other.
　　And Lennie said softly to the puppy, “Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice. I didn’t bounce you hard.” He bent the pup’s head up and looked in its face, and he said to it, “Now maybe George ain’t gonna let me tend no rabbits, if he fin’s out you got killed.”
　　He scooped a little hollow and laid the puppy in it and covered it over with hay, out of sight; but he continued to stare at the mound he had made. He said, “This ain’t no bad thing like I got to go hide in the brush. Oh! no. This ain’t. I’ll tell George I foun’ it dead.”
　　He unburied the puppy and inspected it, and he stroked it from ears to tail. He went on sorrowfully, “But he’ll know. George always knows. He’ll say, ‘You done it. Don’t try to put nothing over on me.’ An’ he’ll say, ‘Now jus’ for that you don’t get to tend no rabbits!’”
　　Suddenly his anger arose. “God damn you,” he cried. “Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice.” He picked up the pup and hurled it from him. He turned his back on it. He sat bent over his knees and he whispered, “Now I won’t get to tend the rabbits. Now he won’t let me.” He rocked himself back and forth in his sorrow.
　　From outside came the clang of horseshoes on the iron stake, and then a little chorus of cries. Lennie got up and brought the puppy back and laid it on the hay and sat down. He stroked the pup again. “You wasn’t big enough,” he said. “They tol’ me and tol’ me you wasn’t. I di’n’t know you’d get killed so easy.” He worked his fingers on the pup’s limp ear. “Maybe George won’t care,” he said. “This here God damn little son-of-a-bitch wasn’t nothing to George.”
　　Curley’s wife came around the end of the last stall. She came very quietly, so that Lennie didn’t see her. She wore her bright cotton dress and the mules with the red ostrich feathers. Her face was made-up and the little sausage curls were all in place. She was quite near to him before Lennie looked up and saw her.
　　In a panic he shoveled hay over the puppy with his fingers. He looked sullenly up at her.
　　She said, “What you got there, sonny boy?”
　　Lennie glared at her. “George says I ain’t to have nothing to do with you—talk to you or nothing.”
　　She laughed. “George giving you orders about everything?”
　　Lennie looked down at the hay. “Says I can’t tend no rabbits if I talk to you or anything.”
　　She said quietly, “He’s scared Curley’ll get mad. Well, Curley got his arm in a sling- an’ if Curley gets tough, you can break his other han’. You didn’t put nothing over on me about gettin’ it caught in no machine.”
　　But Lennie was not to be drawn. “No, sir. I ain’t gonna talk to you or nothing.”
　　She knelt in the hay beside him. “Listen,” she said. “All the guys got a horseshoe tenement goin’ on. It’s on’y about four o’clock. None of them guys is goin’ to leave that tenement. Why can’t I talk to you? I never get to talk to nobody. I get awful lonely.”
　　Lennie said, “Well, I ain’t supposed to talk to you or nothing.”
　　“I get lonely,” she said. “You can talk to people, but I can’t talk to nobody but Curley. Else he gets mad. How’d you like not to talk to anybody?”
　　Lennie said, “Well, I ain’t supposed to. George’s scared I’ll get in trouble.”
　　She changed the subject. “What you got covered up there?”
　　Then all of Lennie’s woe came back on him. “Jus’ my pup,” he said sadly. “Jus’ my little pup.” And he swept the hay from on top of it.
　　“Why, he’s dead,” she cried.
　　“He was so little,” said Lennie. “I was jus’ playin’ with him . . . . an’ he made like he’s gonna bite me . . . . an’ I made like I was gonna smack him . . . . an’ . . . . an’ I done it. An’ then he was dead.”
　　She consoled him. “Don’t you worry none. He was jus’ a mutt. You can get another one easy. The whole country is fulla mutts.”
　　“It ain’t that so much,” Lennie explained miserably. “George ain’t gonna let me tend no rabbits now.
　　“Why don’t he?”
　　“Well, he said if I done any more bad things he ain’t gonna let me tend the rabbits.”
　　She moved closer to him and she spoke soothingly. “Don’t you worry about talkin’ to me. Listen to the guys yell out there. They got four dollars bet in that tenement. None of them ain’t gonna leave till it’s over.”
　　“If George sees me talkin’ to you he’ll give me hell,” Lennie said cautiously. “He tol’ me so.”
　　Her face grew angry. “Wha’s the matter with me?” she cried. “Ain’t I got a right to talk to nobody? Whatta they think I am, anyways? You’re a nice guy. I don’t know why I can’t talk to you. I ain’t doin’ no harm to you.”
　　“Well, George says you’ll get us in a mess.”
　　“Aw, nuts!” she said. “What kinda harm am I doin’ to you? Seems like they ain’t none of them cares how I gotta live. I tell you I ain’t used to livin’ like this. I coulda made somethin’ of myself.” She said darkly, “Maybe I will yet.” And then her words tumbled out in a passion of communication, as though she hurried before her listener could be taken away. “I lived right in Salinas,” she said. “Come there when I was a kid. Well, a show come through, an’ I met one of the actors. He says I could go with that show. But my ol’ lady wouldn’t let me. She says because I was on’y fifteen. But the guy says I coulda. If I’d went, I wouldn’t be livin’ like this, you bet.”
　　Lennie stroked the pup back and forth. “We gonna have a little place—an’ rabbits,” he explained.
　　She went on with her story quickly, before she could be interrupted. “’Nother time I met a guy, an’ he was in pitchers. Went out to the Riverside Dance Palace with him. He says he was gonna put me in the movies. Says I was a natural. Soon’s he got back to Hollywood he was gonna write to me about it.” She looked closely at Lennie to see whether she was impressing him. “I never got that letter,” she said. “I always thought my ol’ lady stole it. Well, I wasn’t gonna stay no place where I couldn’t get nowhere or make something of myself, an’ where they stole your letters, I ast her if she stole it, too, an’ she says no. So I married Curley. Met him out to the Riverside Dance Palace that same night.” She demanded, “You listenin’?”
　　“Me? Sure.”
　　“Well, I ain’t told this to nobody before. Maybe I oughten to. I don’ like Curley. He ain’t a nice fella.” And because she had confided in him, she moved closer to Lennie and sat beside him. “Coulda been in the movies, an’ had nice clothes—all them nice clothes like they wear. An’ I coulda sat in them big hotels, an’ had pitchers took of me. When they had them previews I coulda went to them, an’ spoke in the radio, an’ it wouldn’ta cost me a cent because I was in the pitcher. An’ all them nice clothes like they wear. Because this guy says I was a natural.” She looked up at Lennie, and she made a small grand gesture with her arm and hand to show that she could act. The fingers trailed after her leading wrist, and her little finger stuck out grandly from the rest.
　　Lennie sighed deeply. From outside came the clang of a horseshoe on metal, and then a chorus of cheers. “Somebody made a ringer,” said Curley’s wife.
　　Now the light was lifting as the sun went down, and the sun streaks climbed up the wall and fell over the feeding racks and over the heads of the horses.
　　Lennie said, “Maybe if I took this pup out and throwed him away George wouldn’t never know. An’ then I could tend the rabbits without no trouble.”
　　Curley’s wife said angrily, “Don’t you think of nothing but rabbits?”
　　“We gonna have a little place,” Lennie explained patiently. “We gonna have a house an’ a garden and a place for alfalfa, an’ that alfalfa is for the rabbits, an’ I take a sack and get it all fulla alfalfa and then I take it to the rabbits.”
　　She asked, “What makes you so nuts about rabbits?”
　　Lennie had to think carefully before he could come to a conclusion. He moved cautiously close to her, until he was right against her. “I like to pet nice things. Once at a fair I seen some of them long-hair rabbits. An’ they was nice, you bet. Sometimes I’ve even pet mice, but not when I couldn’t get nothing better.”
　　Curley’s wife moved away from him a little. “I think you’re nuts,” she said.
　　“No I ain’t,” Lennie explained earnestly. “George says I ain’t. I like to pet nice things with my fingers, sof’ things.”
　　She was a little bit reassured. “Well, who don’t?” she said. “Ever’body likes that. I like to feel silk an’ velvet. Do you like to feel velvet?”
　　Lennie chuckled with pleasure. “You bet, by God,” he cried happily. “An’ I had some, too. A lady give me some, an’ that lady was—my own Aunt Clara. She give it right to me—‘bout this big a piece. I wisht I had that velvet right now.” A frown came over his face. “I lost it,” he said. “I ain’t seen it for a long time.”
　　Curley’s wife laughed at him. “You’re nuts,” she said. “But you’re a kinda nice fella. Jus’ like a big baby. But a person can see kinda what you mean. When I’m doin’ my hair sometimes I jus’ set an’ stroke it ‘cause it’s so soft.” To show how she did it, she ran her fingers over the top of her head. “Some people got kinda coarse hair,” she said complacently. “Take Curley. His hair is jus’ like wire. But mine is soft and fine. ‘Course I brush it a lot. That makes it fine. Here—feel right here.” She took Lennie’s hand and put it on her head. “Feel right aroun’ there an’ see how soft it is.”
　　Lennie’s big fingers fell to stroking her hair.
　　“Don’t you muss it up,” she said. 
　　Lennie said, “Oh! That’s nice,” and he stroked harder. “Oh, that’s nice.”
　　“Look out, now, you’ll muss it.” And then she cried angrily, “You stop it now, you’ll mess it all up.” She jerked her head sideways, and Lennie’s fingers closed on her hair and hung on. “Let go,” she cried. “You let go!”
　　Lennie was in a panic. His face was contorted. She screamed then, and Lennie’s other hand closed over her mouth and nose. “Please don’t,” he begged. “Oh! Please don’t do that. George’ll be mad.”
　　She struggled violently under his hands. Her feet battered on the hay and she writhed to be free; and from under Lennie’s hand came a muffled screaming. Lennie began to cry with fright. “Oh! Please don’t do none of that,” he begged. “George gonna say I done a bad thing. He ain’t gonna let me tend no rabbits.” He moved his hand a little and her hoarse cry came out. Then Lennie grew angry. “Now don’t,” he said. “I don’t want you to yell. You gonna get me in trouble jus’ like George says you will. Now don’t you do that.” And she continued to struggle, and her eyes were wild with terror. He shook her then, and he was angry with her. “Don’t you go yellin’,” he said, and he shook her; and her body flopped like a fish. And then she was still, for Lennie had broken her neck.
　　He looked down at her, and carefully he removed his hand from over her mouth, and she lay still. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, “but George’ll be mad if you yell.” When she didn’t answer nor move he bent closely over her. He lifted her arm and let it drop. For a moment he seemed bewildered. And then he whispered in fright, “I done a bad thing. I done another bad thing.”
　　He pawed up the hay until it partly covered her.
　　From outside the barn came a cry of men and the double clang of shoes on metal. For the first time Lennie became conscious of the outside. He crouched down in the hay and listened. “I done a real bad thing,” he said. “I shouldn’t of did that. George’ll be mad. An’ . . . . he said . . . . an’ hide in the brush till he come. He’s gonna be mad. In the brush till he come. Tha’s what he said.” Lennie went back and looked at the dead girl. The puppy lay close to her. Lennie picked it up. “I’ll throw him away,” he said. “It’s bad enough like it is.” He put the pup under his coat, and he crept to the barn wall and peered out between the cracks, toward the horseshoe game. And then he crept around the end of the last manger and disappeared.
　　The sun streaks were high on the wall by now, and the light was growing soft in the barn. Curley’s wife lay on her back, and she was half covered with hay.
　　It was very quiet in the barn, and the quiet of the afternoon was on the ranch. Even the clang of the pitched shoes, even the voices of the men in the game, seemed to grow more quiet. The air in the barn was dusky in advance of the outside day. A pigeon flew in through the open hay door and circled and flew out again. Around the last stall came a shepherd bitch, lean and long, with heavy, hanging dugs. Halfway to the packing box where the puppies were she caught the dead scent of Curley’s wife, and the hair arose along her spine. She whimpered and cringed to the packing box, and jumped in among the puppies.
　　Curley’s wife lay with a half-covering of yellow hay. And the meanness and the plannings and the discontent and the ache for attention were all gone from her face. She was very pretty and simple, and her face was sweet and young. Now her rouged cheeks and her reddened lips made her seem alive and sleeping very lightly. The curls, tiny little sausages, were spread on the hay behind her head, and her lips were parted.
　　As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.
　　Then gradually time awakened again and moved sluggishly on. The horses stamped on the other side of the feeding racks and the halterchains clinked. Outside, the men’s voices became louder and clearer.
　　From around the end of the last stall old Candy’s voice came. “Lennie,” he called. “Oh, Lennie! You in here? I been figuring some more. Tell you what we can do, Lennie.” Old Candy appeared around the end of the last stall. “Oh, Lennie!” he called again; and then he stopped, and his body stiffened. He rubbed his smooth wrist on his white stubble whiskers. “I di’n’t know you was here,” he said to Curley’s wife. 
　　When she didn’t answer, he stepped nearer. “You oughten to sleep out here,” he said disapprovingly; and then he was beside her and—“Oh, Jesus Christ!” He looked about helplessly, and he rubbed his beard. And then he jumped up and went quickly out of the barn.
　　But the barn was alive now. The horses stamped and snorted, and they chewed the straw of their bedding and they clashed the chains of their halters. In a moment Candy came back, and George was with him.
　　George said, “What was it you wanted to see me about?”
　　Candy pointed at Curley’s wife. George stared. “What’s the matter with her?” he asked. He stepped closer, and then he echoed Candy’s words. “Oh, Jesus Christ!” He was down on his knees beside her. He put his hand over her heart. And finally, when he stood up, slowly and stiffly, his face was as hard and tight as wood, and his eyes were hard.
　　Candy said, “What done it?”
　　George looked coldly at him. “Ain’t you got any idear?” he asked. And Candy was silent. “I should of knew,” George said hopelessly. “I guess maybe way back in my head I did.”
　　Candy asked, “What we gonna do now, George? What we gonna do now?”
　　George was a long time in answering. “Guess . . . . we gotta tell the . . . . guys. I guess we gotta get ‘im an’ lock ‘im up. We can’t let ‘im get away. Why, the poor bastard’d starve.” And he tried to reassure himself. “Maybe they’ll lock ‘im up an’ be nice to ‘im.”
　　But Candy said excitedly, “We oughta let ‘im get away. You don’t know that Curley. Curley gon’ta wanta get ‘im lynched. Curley’ll get ‘im killed.”
　　George watched Candy’s lips. “Yeah,” he said at last, “that’s right, Curley will. An’ the other guys will.” And he looked back at Curley’s wife.
　　Now Candy spoke his greatest fear. “You an’ me can get that little place, can’t we, George? You an’ me can go there an’ live nice, can’t we, George? Can’t we?”
　　Before George answered, Candy dropped his head and looked down at the hay. He knew.
　　George said softly, “—I think I knowed from the very first. I think I know’d we’d never do her. He usta like to hear about it so much I got to thinking maybe we would.” 
　　“Then—it’s all off?” Candy asked sulkily.
　　George didn’t answer his question. George said, “I’ll work my month an’ I’ll take my fifty bucks an’ I’ll stay all night in some lousy cat house. Or I’ll set in some poolroom till ever’body goes home. An’ then I’ll come back an’ work another month an’ I’ll have fifty bucks more.” 
　　Candy said, “He’s such a nice fella. I didn’ think he’d do nothing like this.”
　　George still stared at Curley’s wife. “Lennie never done it in meanness,” he said. “All the time he done bad things, but he never done one of ‘em mean.” He straightened up and looked back at Candy. “Now listen. We gotta tell the guys. They got to bring him in, I guess. They ain’t no way out. Maybe they won’t hurt ‘im.” He said sharply, “I ain’t gonna let ‘em hurt Lennie. Now you listen. The guys might think I was in on it. I’m gonna go in the bunk house. Then in a minute you come out and tell the guys about her, and I’ll come along and make like I never seen her. Will you do that? So the guys won’t think I was in on it?”
　　Candy said, “Sure, George. Sure I’ll do that.”
　　“O.K. Give me a couple minutes then, and you come runnin’ out an’ tell like you jus’ found her. I’m going now.” George turned and went quickly out of the barn.
　　Old Candy watched him go. He looked helplessly back at Curley’s wife, and gradually his sorrow and his anger grew into words. “You God damn tramp”, he said viciously. “You done it, di’n’t you? I s’pose you’re glad. Ever’body knowed you’d mess things up. You wasn’t no good. You ain’t no good now, you lousy tart.” He sniveled, and his voice shook. “I could of hoed in the garden and washed dishes for them guys.” He paused, and then went on in a singsong. And he repeated the old words: “If they was a circus or a baseball game . . . . we would of went to her . . . . jus’ said ‘ta hell with work,’ an’ went to her. Never ast nobody’s say so. An’ they’d of been a pig and chickens . . . . an’ in the winter . . . . the little fat stove . . . . an’ the rain comin’ . . . . an’ us jes’ settin’ there.” His eyes blinded with tears and he turned and went weakly out of the barn, and he rubbed his bristly whiskers with his wrist stump.
　　Outside the noise of the game stopped. There was a rise of voices in question, a drum of running feet and the men burst into the barn. Slim and Carlson and young Whit and Curley, and Crooks keeping back out of attention range. Candy came after them, and last of all came George. George had put on his blue denim coat and buttoned it, and his black hat was pulled down low over his eyes. The men raced around the last stall. Their eyes found Curley’s wife in the gloom, they stopped and stood still and looked.
　　Then Slim went quietly over to her, and he felt her wrist. One lean finger touched her cheek, and then his hand went under her slightly twisted neck and his fingers explored her neck. When he stood up the men crowded near and the spell was broken.
　　Curley came suddenly to life. “I know who done it,” he cried. “That big son-of-a-bitch done it. I know he done it. Why—ever’body else was out there playin’ horseshoes.” He worked himself into a fury. “I’m gonna get him. I’m going for my shotgun. I’ll kill the big son-of-a-bitch myself. I’ll shoot ‘im in the guts. Come on, you guys.” He ran furiously out of the barn. Carlson said, “I’ll get my Luger,” and he ran out too. 
　　Slim turned quietly to George. “I guess Lennie done it, all right,” he said. “Her neck’s bust. Lennie coulda did that.” 
　　George didn’t answer, but he nodded slowly. His hat was so far down on his forehead that his eyes were covered.
　　Slim went on, “Maybe like that time in Weed you was tellin’ about.”
　　Again George nodded.
　　Slim sighed. “Well, I guess we got to get him. Where you think he might of went?”
　　It seemed to take George some time to free his words. “He—would of went south,” he said. “We come from north so he would of went south.”
　　“I guess we gotta get ‘im,” Slim repeated.
　　George stepped close. “Couldn’ we maybe bring him in an’ they’ll lock him up? He’s nuts, Slim. He never done this to be mean.”
　　Slim nodded. “We might,” he said. “If we could keep Curley in, we might. But Curley’s gonna want to shoot ‘im. Curley’s still mad about his hand. An’ s’pose they lock him up an’ strap him down and put him in a cage. That ain’t no good, George.”
　　“I know,” said George, “I know.”
　　Carlson came running in. “The bastard’s stole my Luger,” he shouted. “It ain’t in my bag.” Curley followed him, and Curley carried a shotgun in his good hand. Curley was cold now.
　　“All right, you guys,” he said. “The nigger’s got a shotgun. You take it, Carlson. When you see ‘um, don’t give ‘im no chance. Shoot for his guts. That’ll double ‘im over.”
　　Whit said excitedly, “I ain’t got a gun.”
　　Curley said, “You go in Soledad an’ get a cop. Get Al Wilts, he’s deputy sheriff. Le’s go now.” He turned suspiciously on George. “You’re comin’ with us, fella.”
　　“Yeah,” said George. “I’ll come. But listen, Curley. The poor bastard’s nuts. Don’t shoot ‘im. He di’n’t know what he was doin’.”
　　“Don’t shoot ‘im?” Curley cried. “He got Carlson’s Luger. ‘Course we’ll shoot ‘im.”
　　George said weakly, “Maybe Carlson lost his gun.”
　　“I seen it this morning,” said Carlson. “No, it’s been took.”
　　Slim stood looking down at Curley’s wife. He said, “Curley—maybe you better stay here with your wife.”
　　Curley’s face reddened. “I’m goin’,” he said. “I’m gonna shoot the guts outa that big bastard myself, even if I only got one hand. I’m gonna get ‘im.”
　　Slim turned to Candy. “You stay here with her then, Candy. The rest of us better get goin’.”
　　They moved away. George stopped a moment beside Candy and they both looked down at the dead girl until Curley called, “You George! You stick with us so we don’t think you had nothin’ to do with this.”
　　George moved slowly after them, and his feet dragged heavily.
　　And when they were gone, Candy squatted down in the hay and watched the face of Curley’s wife. “Poor bastard,” he said softly.
　　The sound of the men grew fainter. The barn was darkening gradually and, in their stalls, the horses shifted their feet and rattled the halter chains. Old Candy lay down in the hay and covered his eyes with his arm.
第 五 章
新的麦秆在宽阔的畜舍的一端堆得高高的，一个四叉抓草器在麦秆堆上吊着，悬在它的吊车上面。麦秆象山坡似的倾斜向畜舍另一端，那儿有着一块还不曾被新收获物堆满的平地。可以在畜舍的四边看见喂草的木槽，打一条条栏栅间望去，可以看出马匹的头来。
星期日下午。憩息的马在嚼着吃剩的一小捆一小捆干麦秆，咬啮着木槽，嗒嗒地顿着它们的蹄。并且把缰链当啷当啷地摇响着。透过畜舍的空隙，下午的阳光一薄片一薄片地投射进来，铺上一道道的光线在干草上面。一群群的苍蝇在空中嗡营着，空气中呈现出一种午后怠惰的扰攘。
外边传来马蹄铁碰的插梢上的当啷声，和人们各式各样地呼喊：怂恿的，好玩的，或是嘲弄的。但畜舍里却只是一片安静，嗡营，温暖和闲旷。
畜舍里只有李奈一个人，他坐在没有给麦秆堆满的那一端的一只马槽底下，一副驮箱旁边的干草上。李奈坐在草堆里，瞧着他面前一条小小的在他面前躺着的死了的狗儿。他瞧了好一会，然后伸出他那双硕大的手去抚摩它，他干净利落地一遍又一遍轻轻地从头到尾抚摩着。
李奈柔声地对狗儿说：“干吗你要死掉呢？你又不是小得象老鼠那样。我又没有发狠地捏你。”他把小狗的头扭过来，盯着它的脸，对它说：“要是他发觉你是被我弄死的，也许佐治现在不给兔子给我管了吧。”
他在草堆上挖了个小窟窿，把小狗放了进去，然后用干草把它盖没，看不见了；但他还是发愣地朝着那个自己作成的小堆。他说：“我非得躲到丛树林去不可的坏事还不是这个吧，哦，不！这不是的。我会对佐治说，它死了我才发现的。”
他把狗儿挖了出来，细看着它，轻轻地把它从耳根一直到尾巴摸了一遍。他的声音里满是忧虑：“可是他会知道的，平常佐治总是知道的。他会说：‘别想瞒得过我，你干的好事。’他还会说呢：‘你再也别想管那些兔子了！就为的这件事。’”
突然他发起火来。“他妈的，你这鬼家伙，”他叫起来道。“干吗你一定要死呢？你又不是小得象一只老鼠那样。”他把小狗抓起来，将它猛地掷了开去，并且将身子拧过来背对着它。他弯着腰坐在那儿，沮丧地说：“这回兔子肯定不得我管了，这回他不许我管了。”在忧愁之中他来回摇晃着身体。
外面传来马蹄铁掷在铁桩上发出的丁当响声，跟着是一阵异口同声的叫嚷。李奈站了起来，把小狗重又放回到干草上，这才坐了下去。他又轻轻地在小狗身上抚摩起来。“你还是不够大的，”他说。“他们跟我说了又说，你还不够大。你会这么容易就死掉我真不明白。”他将一排手指伸出来搁在狗儿一只软绵绵的耳朵上。“佐治也许不会计较吧，”他说。“佐治不会把它当作一回什么事吧，这么一只鸟狗崽。”
打畜舍最后头的栏架那边走过来顾利老婆。她十分宁静地走过来，因而李奈没瞧见她。她身上穿的是一件耀眼的棉布衫，脚上是缀有红驼鸟毛的拖鞋。她的脸化了妆，一小束一小束的腊肠一般的鬈发，十分舒齐地吊在那儿。她静静地走近李奈身边，李奈这才抬起头来看见她。
慌乱中，他用手抓起一把麦秆来把小狗盖住。他心情沮丧地望着她。
“你在这儿干什么，小伙子？”她说。
李奈朝她瞪了一眼。“佐治说我不得跟你搞什么的———不管是跟你讲话还是什么别的。”
她笑了起来。“样样事情佐治都给你下命令的吗？”
李奈垂头瞧着干草。“他说我要是跟你讲话或干别的，就不会给兔子给我管了。”
她泰然自若地说：“他那是怕顾利发火罢了。哈，顾利一只胳膊在绷带上挂着———他要是敢发恶呢，你就把他另一只手臂也扭断好啦。你瞒不过我的，说什么机器给他碰着了。”
但这诱惑没有被李奈接收。“不啊，太太。我不能跟你讲话什么的。”
她靠近他在草堆上跪了下来。“嘘，”她说。“都在赌着一场马蹄铁赛呢他们那些人。这会儿约摸只是四点钟的样子。谁也不会离场的他们这些家伙。干吗我不能和你谈谈呢？我得不着同谁谈过心。我真要闷死了。”
“呃，我不想跟你谈话或干别样什么的。”李奈说。
“我真寂寞，”她说。“你可以和别人讲话，可是我呢，除了顾利，我就不能同谁讲话了。否则他就会发火。你是为了什么不爱跟别人讲话的？”
“呃，我不打算讲。佐治怕我会弄出麻烦来。”李奈说。
她把话题换过一个。“你这儿盖着的是什么东西？”
于是李奈所有的灾难都重回到他身上来了。“只是我的狗儿。”他悲戚地说。“只是我的小狗儿。”干草被他从顶上掀了开去。
她叫嚷起来：“哎呀，是死的呢。”
“它这么小，”李奈说。“我不过是同它逗着玩儿……它做出象是要咬我的样子……我就装作要捏它一下……我就真的这么干了。它就死掉了哪。”
她安慰他道：“你用不着忧心。它不过是只狗儿罢了。你很容易就可以找一只回来。狗儿这乡村里到处都有的是哩。”
“不单只是这个，”李奈伤心地解释说。“这一回佐治可要不给兔子给我看管了。”
“为什么他不让？”
“唔，他说要是再有什么坏事给我干出来，他就会不给兔子给我管了。”
她把身体移得跟他靠得更近一点，用轻柔的语调说道：“跟我讲话你别担心。他们那些家伙这会儿正在外边叫着喊着哩，你听。他们这一场要赌四块钱的。不到完场谁也不会肯走开的。”
“佐治准会让我吃不消，要是佐治瞧见我跟你讲话。”李奈谨慎地说。“他这样给我讲过了的。”
渐渐地她的脸庞变得生气了起来。“我着的是什么鬼？”她嚷了起来。“我就没有权利同一个人讲话吗？到底我被他们看成个什么？你是个好人。为什么我不能同你讲话我真不明白。我又不会加害于你。”
“唔，佐治说你会害我们搞出祸来的。”
“哇，真见鬼！”她说。“哪一桩我害了你？我是怎么生活着的好像他们没有一个人想到过。我告诉你吧，这样的生活我过不惯。我也能够自己做点事的。”她看上去似乎黯然神伤似地说下去：“没准将来我还能。”跟着，在一种倾诉的热情中她的话翻滚了出来，就象是他的听客会被人夺了去，因此她必须赶紧抢着说似的。“我就住在夏连那斯，”她说。“我还是个小孩子的时候就到了那儿。啊，一个歌舞班子路过啦，我遇到一个演员。他说我可以跟那个歌舞班走。但我母亲不许我去。说是我还只有十五岁哪。但那人说我去得的。我就不会过着现在这种鬼日子，要是我去了，你可以相信。”
李奈轻轻地来回抚摩着狗儿。“我们就要有一小块地了———还有兔子。”他把心事倾吐了出来。
她不让别人把她的话插断，赶紧继续把她的身世讲下去。“另一次我碰到一个人，他是片场里的。我跟他一道到临江舞厅去。他说我是个天才。说他要介绍我去拍片子。待他回到好莱坞，他立刻就会写信叫我去。”她紧紧地盯着李奈瞧，看她可把他打动了没有。“信我一直没有收到，”她说。“我常疑心它是给我母亲偷去了。哧，这样一个地方我就再也不要呆下去了，我做不得一点儿事情，得不着一点儿地位，他们还偷你的信。我也问过她，是不是她把它偷了去的，她说不。这么一来我就跟顾利结了婚。他我也是那一天晚上在临江舞厅里认识的。”她诘问道：“你在听着的吧？”
“我？当然。”
“啊，这个我一向没对谁讲过，也许这个我不该讲。我不喜欢顾利。他不是个好人。”因为她已经信赖他了，她把身体移得靠李奈更近，坐在他旁边。“该是有进电影的了，有漂亮的衣服穿的了———全都是漂亮衣服呀，象她们和他们穿的一样。我可以在大酒店里坐着，就有拍片场来要。遇着他们有预演呢，我就参加去，用不着花我一个铜板，在无线电里讲话，因为我是拍片场的呀。而且，我全都有了，象她们和他们穿的漂亮衣服。因为这人说我是个天生的人才呀。”她抬起眼来瞧李奈，并且用手和胳膊作了个有点堂皇的手势，显示她会表演。随着手腕的移动一排手指也摆动起来，那小指从其它几个手指中煞有介事地翘了开来。
李奈深沉地叹了一声气。外边传来一块马蹄铁碰在金属上发出的丁当声，跟着是一阵喝采。“有人圈中了，”顾利老婆说。
现在太阳正在往下沉下去，光线渐渐升高了，一缕缕阳光爬上了墙壁，照在马匹头上，饲草架上。
李奈说：“也许这狗儿我把它拿到外面去丢掉，佐治就会不知道了。那么我就能管兔子，不会有什么乱子了。”
顾利老婆恼怒地说：“你只是惦着兔子，什么也不放在心上？”
“我们就要有一小块地了，”李奈耐心地对她解释说。“我们就要有一个果园，一间屋，还有一小块用来种紫花苜蓿的地，那紫花苜蓿是给兔子种的呀，我会带一条布袋，每一回都用苜蓿把布袋塞得满满的，然后把它拿回来喂兔子。”
她问道：“什么东西把你弄得这么死心眼儿地记挂着兔子？”
在得到答案之前，李奈仔细地想了又想。他小心翼翼地向她靠近，直到他恰好偎着了她的身体。“我喜欢玩漂亮的东西。有一回，我看见过好些毛茸茸的兔子在会景上。它们可真漂亮呀，你知道。我连老鼠也玩过的，可是一有了什么好点儿的东西到手，我就不玩它了。”
顾利老婆将身体移离了他一点点，说：“我看你是个傻瓜。”
“不，我不是，”李奈恳切地分辩道。“佐治说我不是呀。我喜欢用手指摸着漂亮的软绉绉的东西玩儿。”
她的心略为安下来。“啊，谁不呢？”她说。“这是随便谁都爱的。我爱摸天鹅绒和丝绸。天鹅绒，你爱不爱摸？”
李奈高兴得格格地笑出声来了。“天啊，那还用说，”他快活地叫道。“我还曾有过一点子呢。一位太太给过一点子给我，这位太太就是———我的卡莉拉姑母。她真的把它给了我啦———大约这么大的一块。我很想那么一块天鹅绒我现在能有。”他的脸上掠过一层悒郁的阴影。“它给我丢掉了，”他说。“我很久没有看见它了。”
顾利老婆讪笑他。“你是个傻瓜，”她说。“可却是个死鬼好人。就象个大娃儿，但你的意思别人会明白的。当我理着我的头发呢，因为它是那么柔软，我时常就在那儿坐着，用手轻轻地抚弄它。”为了表明她是怎么抚弄的，她把一排手指伸出来往头顶上掠了一下。“有的人的头发硬得要命，”她自鸣得意地说。“就说顾利吧。他的头发跟铁丝似的。我的可是又细又软呀。当然喽，我刷得勤。那会使它变得细腻起来的。这儿———就触一下这儿看。”她捉住李奈的手将它放到她头上。“就在这地方摸一下，看它是多么软绵绵的。”
李奈开始用粗大的手指拨弄她的头发了。
她说：“你可别把它弄乱了。”
李奈说：“啊啊，真妙哇，”他拨得的力气更重了一些。“啊啊，真妙哇。”
“留心，瞧，它就要给你弄乱了。”接着她生气了，叫道：“你快把手停下来，你会把它全都弄乱了的。”她把头歪向一边，可李奈的五指却把她的头发抓住了不放。“放手，”她喊起来。“你放手。”
李奈慌张失措了起来。他的脸歪着。那女人又尖声叫喊起来，李奈用另一只手去把她的鼻子和嘴巴掩住。“请别这样，”他求情说。“啊啊，请别这么样。佐治会生气的哩。”
那女人在他双手底下拚命挣扎。她的脚在干草堆上乱踢乱蹦，她还不住地打滚旋想将身体挣脱来；而一声被掩住了的号叫从李奈的手底下透了出来。李奈开始恐慌地叫了起来。“啊，请千万别这样吧，”他恳求道。“佐治会说我干了一桩坏事。他会不给兔子给我管的。”他把手略为移开一点，于是她沙哑的呼号声就冲口而出。这使李奈变得愠怒了。“别再嚷，”他说。“我不要你叫嚷呀。瞧，你就要害我把祸事搞出来了，佐治说的一点没错。哼，你可别再喊。”她继续挣扎，她的一双眼睛满是恐怖地乱瞪着。李奈真的恼火她了，接着他便摇撼她。“你别再喊呀，”他说，边摇撼着她；于是她的身体就象一条鱼一般仆倒了下来。这之后她直挺挺地一动也不动，她的颈骨已经给李奈摇断了。
他垂头瞧着她，小心地把原先盖在她嘴上的手移开去，而她却一动不动地躺着。“我不想伤害你的，”他说。“可是佐治准会冒火，你要是喊起来的话”她既不动弹，也不回答，于是他弯下身来靠近着去瞧她。他把她的一条手臂抬起，又放了下来。他象是被吓昏了似的。好半天之后，他感到害怕了，低声地说：“我干了一桩坏事了。我又干了一桩坏事了。”
他用笨大的手去抓干草，直到将她的身体半埋住了。
一阵人群的叫声，和马蹄铁碰在金属上头发出的双重的丁当声从畜舍外边传了过来。李奈第一次意识到外边了。他在干草堆上蹲了下来，细细地听着。“我干了一桩真正的坏事，”他说。“我不该把它干出来的。佐治准会发火。哦……他说过，躺在丛树林里，等他到来。他准会生气的。等他来，在丛树林里，他这么说过的呢。”李奈又走回来瞧了瞧那已经死去的女子。狗儿躺的和她靠得非常近。李奈拾起小狗。“我还是扔掉它吧，”他说。“这些已经够糟的了。”他把小狗塞进怀里，用上衫把它裹起来，轻步走到畜舍的墙边，从壁缝里朝外面玩马蹄铁赛的地方张望了一下。然后，轻步走到最尽头一个马槽的末端的附近，然后他的踪影就消失了。
现在太阳的光束是高照在墙上了，畜舍里面的光亮渐渐地暗了下来。顾利老婆仰面躺在那儿，被干麦秆半埋着。
畜舍里显得十分静谧，而整个农场都笼罩在这下午的静谧之中。连参加赛局的人们的声音，连掷蹄铁发出的当响，似乎都在渐渐沉寂下去。畜舍里的空间已经先于外边的白昼阴暗了下来。从敞开着的麦秆门里飞进来一只鸽子，绕了个圈子后它又飞了出去。打最末端的畜栏走过来一匹牧羊母犬，长而瘦，垂着两排沉重的乳头。还没等它走到狗儿们睡的那驮箱，顾利老婆的死人的气味就给它嗅到了，立即它脊梁上的毛就耸了起来。呜咽了几声，那只母狗就瑟缩地走到驮箱前面，跳进一窠狗儿中间去了。
顾利老婆半覆盖着黄澄澄的干草躺在那儿。所有机谋、卑贱、抑郁，和炽烈的情欲，全都消失了从她脸上。她显得非常地秀美而又自然，她的脸孔姣好而少艾。现在，那染红的口唇和搽胭脂的双颊，使得她看上去似乎是栩栩如生，十分轻舒地熟睡着。腊肠一般的鬈发束，在她枕着的干草堆上散开着，而她的两片口唇则微微地张了开来。
象有时遇到的那样，竟是生了根，一刻的时间持续、徘徊得那么久，远远超过了一刻。四周万籁俱寂，运动和声响都停止了下来，显得是那么地久，远远超过了一刻。
接着渐渐地时间又苏醒了过来，而且懒慵慵地溜过去，溜过去。饲草架对面那一边马匹顿着蹄子，缰链丁当丁当地响起来。外面，人们的声音变得愈更清晰，愈更响亮了。
老甘德的声音打尽头一个畜栏附近传了过来。“李奈，”他叫唤道。“啊，李奈！你在这儿么？又有好些给我算出来了。告诉你我们干得起来些什么吧，李奈。”老甘德出现在了尽头那畜栏附近。“啊，李奈！”他又呼唤起来；然后突然他停了下来，他的身体局促起来。他将他那截光溜溜的腕举起，揉着薙短了的白胡子。“我不知道你在这儿。”他对顾利老婆说。
看她并不答话，他走近前去。“你不该浪出到这儿来睡觉，”他带着责备的语气说；然后走到了她身边，“啊呀，主耶稣！”他一面揉着他的胡子一面手足无措地四下里望了望。接着，他跳了起来，飞似地从畜舍里走出去了。
但现在畜舍里却是生气勃勃了。那些马匹喷鼻，顿蹄，碰响着它们勒缰上的铁链，嚼着它们的垫草。不一会，甘德回来了，佐治在他后面跟着。
“你引我看什么呢？”佐治说。
甘德指着顾利老婆。佐治定睛一看，“她怎么啦？”他问，他走近过去，然后把甘德的语言重复了一遍：“啊呀，主耶稣！”他在她身边跪下，伸手去摸她的心窝。终于，他缓缓地僵硬地立起身来，脸象木头似的又实又硬，眼睛也凝固了。
“这是怎么搞的呢？”甘德说。
佐治冷冷地瞧着他。“你半点也没想出来吗？”他问。甘德没作声。“我该知道的，”佐治绝望地说了。“大概是我脑子里担心的事情发生了我猜。”
“那我们怎么办呢，佐治。现在我们怎么办呢？”甘德问道。
佐治慢吞吞地回答：“看来……我们得把这告诉……他们那些人去。我们得逮住他，把他关起来我看。我们不能让他跑掉。唉，会给饿坏的呢这可怜的杂种。”然后他又试着安慰自己。“也许他给他们关起来后，他们会好好待他的。”
但甘德激动地说了：“我们应该让他跑掉。顾利那家伙你不知道。顾利准会拿他上私刑的。顾利会把他杀死的。”佐治紧紧地盯着甘德的口唇。“对，”终于他说了出来。“那是真的，顾利准会那样做。别的人也准会这样。”他回过头来瞧了瞧顾利老婆。
现在甘德把他最大的畏惧说出来了。“那小块地你和我还到得手吧，还成不成呢，佐治？你和我还能够去什么地方过个好日子的吧，还成不成呢，佐治？还成不成呢我们？”
佐治还没有回答，甘德把头俯下来，瞧着地上的干草。他明白了。
佐治柔声地说：“———我想很早我就知道了的。我想我们永远也干不成，这我一早就知道了。他一向那么死心眼爱听我讲它，我才以为我们也许会干得成罢了。”
甘德懊丧地问：“那么———全都完了？”
对他的问题，佐治没有作答。佐治说：“我总可以做我的月工，把我的五十块钱拿到手，在哪一间死鬼猫屋里呆上一整夜。要不，我可以在哪一间赌馆里头坐着，守到人们都散回家去了。然后，我就回来，做第二个月的月工，就又有五十块钱可以到手了。”
甘德说：“我想不到他会干出这样的事情来。他是这么好的一个人。”
佐治仍然盯着顾利老婆。“这桩事李奈决不是存心下流干出来的，”他说。“什么时候他都干坏事，但从没有一桩是下流的。”他直起身子，把头回过来瞧着甘德。“喂，你听着。我们总得告诉他们那些角儿去。没有别的办法，他们准要逮住他。也许他们不会伤害他。”他正色地说道：“我是不会让他们伤害李奈的。喂，你听着吧。人们会疑心我在这上头也有一份。我得回到工棚去。一分钟后你就去外边把她的事告诉他们，这我才装作毫不知情的样子走过来看。你肯这么做吗？这样一来可以叫人们不疑心我？”
甘德说：“肯定，佐治。我肯定照你说的这么做。”
“嗯。给我两分钟时间，然后你象是刚发现的，到处去把这桩事说开。现在我走了。”说罢佐治转过身来，便匆匆地走出去了。
瞧得他去远了，老甘德回过头来无可如何地打量着顾利老婆，而渐渐地，他的愤怒和忧虑，转化了言词了。“你这他妈的骚货，”他刻毒地咒骂道。“你干出来了，还不是吗？我猜你心里是高兴的吧。谁都料到会有事情给你搞出来的。你太不良。现在你更是丝毫好处也没有了，你这烂婊子！”他呜咽了起来，他的声音颤抖着。“本来我可以帮他们两个洗碟子，锄菜园的草的。”停了一下后，他用一种唱歌似的调子继续讲下去，讲那惯熟了的老话道：“要是有一场棒球赛或是马戏呢……我们就赶去看……只要说一声‘别干活啦’，就可以去了。决用不着等谁答应才去得。而且准有好些鸡，一只猪……而且在冬天……小小的铁炉子……天下起雨来……我们就呆在那儿。”泪水把他的眼睛蒙住了，他将身子转过来，用他那半截光秃的手腕去捋他那粗硬的胡须，无力地走出畜舍。
外边赛赌的嚷嚷声停息下来了。一阵议论的鼎沸的声音和急走的脚步声开腾起来，跟着，人们冲进畜舍。那是施琳，贾尔纯，顾利和年青的魏特，还有和跟在后面同显眼的行列隔得远远的库鲁克斯。甘德跟在众人后面，也进来了，最后到来的一个是佐治。佐治身上穿着他的蓝斜纹布上衫，衣服上了钮扣都扣得好好的，头上的黑帽子拉得低低的，把他的眼睛都盖过了。人群从尽头一个畜栏附近走过来。昏暗中他们的眼睛发现了顾利老婆，于是他们停了下来，静静地站在那儿，瞧着。
施琳不动声色地走近过去，把她的脉搏掂了一下。用他的一只瘦长的手指按了按她的腮颊，之后，他伸手去摸她那略为歪曲了的脖子，并用手指仔细地察勘了一下。人群拥了上来，当他站起来的时候，而这一场疑惑也就给打破了。
顾利蓦地醒了过来。“我知道是谁干的，”他叫了起来。“是那个狗杂种大个子干的呀。是他干的我知道。哼———别的人都在外边玩马蹄铁赛哪。”他使自己进入了一种狂怒的状态。“我要逮住他。我去把我的鸟枪找过来。我要亲手把这狗养的大个子收拾掉。我要朝他的肠脏射进去。走吧，大伙们。”他气势汹汹地走出了畜舍。贾尔纯说：“我要去拿我的鲁格，”说着也走出去了。
施琳默然地把脸转过来对着佐治。“我猜这准是李奈干的，不会有错，”他说。“她的颈骨给扭断了。李奈干得出来的。”
佐治没有回答，但他徐徐地点了点头。他额头上的帽子拉得那么低，以至他的眼睛全都给帽子盖住了。
施琳接着说：“也许跟你说过的在韦地那一次一样的吧。”
佐治再次点了点头。
施琳叹息了一声。“唉，我看我们总得把他逮住的了。他能走到哪儿去呢你想？”
佐治似乎很因此踌躇了一回，然后才想妥了讲道：“他———会是往南边的吧，我们从北边来的，所以他会是往南边走吧。”
“我看我们总得把他逮住，”施琳把刚才的话重复了一遍。
佐治走近过来。“要是我们捉得他回来，能不能叫他们只是关禁他起来？他是个笨东西呀，施琳。这事他决不是存心下流干出来的。”
施琳点头。“我们能，”他说。“要是顾利能被我们控制得住，我们就能做到。可顾利却是要一枪把他射死的呀。顾利那只手他一直还念念不忘呢，这也肯定会叫他发火的。他们说不定又会把他关起来，用皮带把它勒紧了放进一个木笼里头。那就糟了，佐治。”
“我懂，”佐治说。“我懂得了。”
贾尔纯跑着进来了。“那杂种把我的鲁格枪偷走了啦，”他高声嚷道。“我那袋子里头枪没有了。”顾利跟在他后头，他那只没受伤的手里拿着一杆鸟枪。现在顾利显得冷静了。
“好啦，大伙们，”他说。“黑鬼有支鸟枪。贾尔纯，你去把它拿来吧。你们见到他，千万不要让他跑掉。要射进他的肠子里去。非拦腰把他打断不干休。”
“我没有枪。”魏特兴奋地说。
顾利说：“你上梭利戴德找个警官来。奥尔?韦尔特斯是代理警长，你把他找来好，我们走吧。”他疑心重重地转过脸来对着佐治。“你也同我们一道走，老兄。”
“是，”佐治说。“我去。可是顾利，你听着呀。这可怜的杂种是个没脑瓜的人。别开枪吧。自己干了什么事他并不明白呢。”
“不开枪？”顾利叫了起来。“我们准定要射了他。贾尔纯的鲁格还被他拿了呢。”
佐治虚弱地说了：“贾尔纯的手枪也许是他自己丢的呢。”
“今天早上我还看见它，”贾尔纯说。“不，它是给人偷走的。”
施琳站在那儿，垂头瞧着顾利的老婆。他说：“顾利———也许你还是留在这儿陪你老婆的好。”
顾利的脸涨得通红。“我要去，”他说。“哪怕我只剩了一只手，我也要亲手给那狗养的大个子一枪，把他的肠子都射出来，我要找他去。”
施琳将脸转向甘德。“那么甘德，你留在这儿看她吧。他们其余的人还是都去的好。”
他们迈步离开了。佐治在甘德身边停了一会，他们两个垂头瞧着那个死去的女人，直至顾利叫道：“你，佐治！你要跟紧我们，好叫我们不疑心这件事你同有干系。”
佐治拖着沉重的步子慢腾腾地跟在他们后面走了。
甘德等他们走了后在干草上面蹲了下来，定睛瞧着顾利老婆的脸孔。“可怜的杂种，”他轻声细气地说出了一句话来。
渐渐地人声去得远了。慢慢地畜舍暗了下来，马匹在它们的栏子里调换着脚，摔响着缰链。老甘德在麦秆上躺下来，将手臂覆在了自己的眼睛上面。
Chapter 6
　　he deep green pool of the Salinas River was still in the late afternoon. Already the sun had left the valley to go climbing up the slopes of the Gabilan Mountains, and the hilltops were rosy in the sun. But by the pool among the mottled sycamores, a pleasant shade had fallen.
　　A water snake glided smoothly up the pool, twisting its periscope head from side to side; and it swam the length of the pool and came to the legs of a motionless heron that stood in the shallows. A silent head and beak lanced down and plucked it out by the head, and the beak swallowed the little snake while its tail waved frantically.
　　A far rush of wind sounded and a gust drove through the tops of the trees like a wave. The sycamore leaves turned up their silver sides, the brown, dry leaves on the ground scudded a few feet. And row on row of tiny wind waves flowed up the pool’s green surface.
　　As quickly as it had come, the wind died, and the clearing was quiet again. The heron stood in the shallows, motionless and waiting. Another little water snake swam up the pool, turning its periscope head from side to side.
　　Suddenly Lennie appeared out of the brush, and he came as silently as a creeping bear moves. The heron pounded the air with its wings, jacked itself clear of the water and flew off down river. The little snake slid in among the reeds at the pool’s side.
　　Lennie came quietly to the pool’s edge. He knelt down and drank, barely touching his lips to the water. When a little bird skittered over the dry leaves behind him, his head jerked up and he strained toward the sound with eyes and ears until he saw the bird, and then he dropped his head and drank again.
　　When he was finished, he sat down on the bank, with his side to the pool, so that he could watch the trail’s entrance. He embraced his knees and laid his chin down on his knees.
　　The light climbed on out of the valley, and as it went, the tops of the mountains seemed to blaze with increasing brightness.
　　Lennie said softly, “I di’n’t forget, you bet, God damn. Hide in the brush an’ wait for George.” He pulled his hat down low over his eyes. “George gonna give me hell,” he said. “George gonna wish he was alone an’ not have me botherin’ him.” He turned his head and looked at the bright mountain tops. “I can go right off there an’ find a cave,” he said. And he continued sadly, “—an’ never have no ketchup—but I won’t care. If George don’t want me . . . . I’ll go away. I’ll go away.”
　　And then from out of Lennie’s head there came a little fat old woman. She wore thick bull’s-eye glasses and she wore a huge gingham apron with pockets, and she was starched and clean. She stood in front of Lennie and put her hands on her hips, and she frowned disapprovingly at him.
　　And when she spoke, it was in Lennie’s voice. “I tol’ you an’ tol’ you,” she said. “I tol’ you, ‘Min’ George because he’s such a nice fella an’ good to you.’ But you don’t never take no care. You do bad things.”
　　And Lennie answered her, “I tried, Aunt Clara, ma’am. I tried and tried. I couldn’t help it.”
　　“You never give a thought to George,” she went on in Lennie’s voice. “He been doin’ nice things for you alla time. When he got a piece of pie you always got half or more’n half. An’ if they was any ketchup, why he’d give it all to you.”
　　“I know,” said Lennie miserably. “I tried, Aunt Clara, ma’am. I tried and tried.”
　　She interrupted him. “All the time he coulda had such a good time if it wasn’t for you. He woulda took his pay an’ raised hell in a whorehouse, and he coulda set in a pool room an’ played snooker. But he got to take care of you.”
　　Lennie moaned with grief. “I know, Aunt Clara, ma’am. I’ll go right off in the hills an’ I’ll fin’ a cave an’ I’ll live there so I won’t be no more trouble to George.”
　　“You jus’ say that,” she said sharply. “You’re always sayin’ that, an’ you know sonofabitching well you ain’t never gonna do it. You’ll jus’ stick around an’ stew the b’Jesus outa George all the time.”
　　Lennie said, “I might jus’ as well go away. George ain’t gonna let me tend no rabbits now.”
　　Aunt Clara was gone, and from out of Lennie’s head there came a gigantic rabbit. It sat on its haunches in front of him, and it waggled its ears and crinkled its nose at him. And it spoke in Lennie’s voice too.
　　“Tend rabbits,” it said scornfully. “You crazy bastard. You ain’t fit to lick the boots of no rabbit. You’d forget ‘em and let ‘em go hungry. That’s what you’d do. An’ then what would George think?”
　　“I would not forget,” Lennie said loudly.
　　“The hell you wouldn’,” said the rabbit. “You ain’t worth a greased jack-pin to ram you into hell. Christ knows George done ever’thing he could to jack you outa the sewer, but it don’t do no good. If you think George gonna let you tend rabbits, you’re even crazier’n usual. He ain’t. He’s gonna beat hell outa you with a stick, that’s what he’s gonna do.” 
　　Now Lennie retorted belligerently, “He ain’t neither. George won’t do nothing like that. I’ve knew George since—I forget when—and he ain’t never raised his han’ to me with a stick. He’s nice to me. He ain’t gonna be mean.”
　　“Well, he’s sick of you,” said the rabbit. “He’s gonna beat hell outa you an’ then go away an’ leave you.”
　　“He won’t,” Lennie cried frantically. “He won’t do nothing like that. I know George. Me an’ him travels together.”
　　But the rabbit repeated softly over and over, “He gonna leave you, ya crazy bastard. He gonna leave ya all alone. He gonna leave ya, crazy bastard.”
　　Lennie put his hands over his ears. “He ain’t, I tell ya he ain’t.” And he cried, “Oh! George—George—George!” 
　　George came quietly out of the brush and the rabbit scuttled back into Lennie’s brain.
　　George said quietly, “What the hell you yellin’ about?”
　　Lennie got up on his knees. “You ain’t gonna leave me, are ya, George? I know you ain’t.”
　　George came stiffly near and sat down beside him. “No.” 
　　“I knowed it,” Lennie cried. “You ain’t that kind.”
　　George was silent.
　　Lennie said, “George.”
　　“Yeah?”
　　“I done another bad thing.”
　　“It don’t make no difference,” George said, and he fell silent again.
　　Only the topmost ridges were in the sun now. The shadow in the valley was blue and soft. From the distance came the sound of men shouting to one another. George turned his head and listened to the shouts. 
　　Lennie said, “George.”
　　“Yeah?”
　　“Ain’t you gonna give me hell?”
　　“Give ya hell?”
　　“Sure, like you always done before. Like, ‘If I di’n’t have you I’d take my fifty bucks—’”
　　“Jesus Christ, Lennie! You can’t remember nothing that happens, but you remember ever’ word I say.”
　　“Well, ain’t you gonna say it?”
　　George shook himself. He said woodenly, “If I was alone I could live so easy.” His voice was monotonous, had no emphasis. “I could get a job an’ not have no mess.” He stopped.
　　“Go on,” said Lennie. “An’ when the enda the month come—”
　　“An’ when the end of the month came I could take my fifty bucks an’ go to a . . . . cat house—” He stopped again.
　　Lennie looked eagerly at him. “Go on, George. Ain’t you gonna give me no more hell?”
　　“No,” said George.
　　“Well, I can go away,” said Lennie. “I’ll go right off in the hills an’ find a cave if you don’ want me.”
　　George shook himself again. “No,” he said. “I want you to stay with me here.”
　　Lennie said craftily—“Tell me like you done before.”
　　“Tell you what?”
　　“’Bout the other guys an’ about us.”
　　George said, “Guys like us got no fambly. They make a little stake an’ then they blow it in. They ain’t got nobody in the worl’ that gives a hoot in hell about ‘em—”
　　“But not us,” Lennie cried happily. “Tell about us now.”
　　George was quiet for a moment. “But not us,” he said.
　　“Because—”
　　“Because I got you an’—”
　　“An’ I got you. We got each other, that’s what, that gives a hoot in hell about us,” Lennie cried in triumph.
　　The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of men sounded again, this time much closer than before.
　　George took off his hat. He said shakily, “Take off your hat, Lennie. The air feels fine.”
　　Lennie removed his hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of him. The shadow in the valley was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing in the brush came to them.
　　Lennie said, “Tell how it’s gonna be.”
　　George had been listening to the distant sounds. For a moment he was businesslike. “Look acrost the river, Lennie, an’ I’ll tell you so you can almost see it.”
　　Lennie turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of the Gabilans. “We gonna get a little place,” George began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Carlson’s Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Lennie’s back. He looked at the back of Lennie’s head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.
　　A man’s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.
　　“Go on,” said Lennie.
　　George raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.
　　“Go on,” said Lennie. “How’s it gonna be. We gonna get a little place.”
　　“We’ll have a cow,” said George. “An’ we’ll have maybe a pig an’ chickens . . . . an’ down the flat we’ll have a . . . . little piece alfalfa—”
　　“For the rabbits,” Lennie shouted.
　　“For the rabbits,” George repeated.
　　“And I get to tend the rabbits.”
　　“An’ you get to tend the rabbits.”
　　Lennie giggled with happiness. “An’ live on the fatta the lan’.”
　　“Yes.”
　　Lennie turned his head.
　　“No, Lennie. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place.” 
　　Lennie obeyed him. George looked down at the gun.
　　There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. George turned and looked toward them. 
　　“Go on, George. When we gonna do it?”
　　“Gonna do it soon.”
　　“Me an’ you.”
　　“You . . . . an’ me. Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna hurt nobody nor steal from ‘em.”
　　Lennie said, “I thought you was mad at me, George.”
　　“No,” said George. “No, Lennie. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know.”
　　The voices came close now. George raised the gun and listened to the voices.
　　Lennie begged, “Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now.”
　　“Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta.”
　　And George raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the muzzle of it close to the back of Lennie’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and rolled down again. Lennie jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering.
　　George shivered and looked at the gun, and then he threw it from him, back up on the bank, near the pile of old ashes.
　　The brush seemed filled with cries and with the sound of running feet. Slim’s voice shouted. “George. Where you at, George?”
　　But George sat stiffly on the bank and looked at his right hand that had thrown the gun away. The group burst into the clearing, and Curley was ahead. He saw Lennie lying on the sand. “Got him, by God.” He went over and looked down at Lennie, and then he looked back at George. “Right in the back of the head,” he said softly.
　　Slim came directly to George and sat down beside him, sat very close to him. “Never you mind,” said Slim. “A guy got to sometimes.”
　　But Carlson was standing over George. “How’d you do it?” he asked.
　　“I just done it,” George said tiredly.
　　“Did he have my gun?”
　　“Yeah. He had your gun.”
　　“An’ you got it away from him and you took it an’ you killed him?”
　　“Yeah. Tha’s how.” George’s voice was almost a whisper. He looked steadily at his right hand that had held the gun.
　　Slim twitched George’s elbow. “Come on, George. Me an’ you’ll go in an’ get a drink.”
　　George let himself be helped to his feet. “Yeah, a drink.”
　　Slim said, “You hadda, George. I swear you hadda. Come on with me.” He led George into the entrance of the trail and up toward the highway.
　　Curley and Carlson looked after them. And Carlson said, “Now what the hell ya suppose is eatin’ them two guys?”
第 六 章
在傍晚时夏连那斯河深绿的水潭是寂静的。太阳已经从洼谷离开，爬上加比兰群山的斜坡去了，夕阳给大大小小的峰峦染上了玫瑰般的色彩。但在那些靠近潭边的斑驳的槭树中间，一片怡人的暮色已经降临了下来。
一条水蛇平滑地从潭面溜过，不住地将它那潜望镜般的头左右扭摆着；它游过了潭的纵长，来到一只一动不动的在浅滩上站着的鹭的脚边。突然鹭的一截不声不响的头嘴戳下来，朝着蛇头一嘴攫去，接着那嘴甲就开始吞噬起那小蛇，而蛇尾巴这时还在发狂地摆动着。
远处响起了一阵疾风，而进入槭林间的那一股象浪花一般从那些树顶上疾扫而过。槭树叶银白的一面翻了上来，那些地上干枯的落叶给掠起好几尺高。一层层的鱼鳞浪从碧绿的潭面上翻涌而起。
一如来时那么骤急，突然风消逝了，林中空地重又回复了谧静。鹭一动不动地立在浅滩上，守候着。潭面上又游来一条小水蛇，它不住将它那潜望镜般的头左右扭动着。
突然，李奈从丛树林中走出来了，他活像一头潜行的熊不声不响地移着脚步走过来。鹭将翅膀鼓起，从水面跃离飕的一声沿河飞了去。小蛇倏地钻进了潭边的芦苇丛里。
李奈悄悄地来到潭边。他跪下来喝水，口唇刚好触着水面。这时他后面的枯叶上掠过一只小鸟，他疾忙地把头回过来，使劲地耳朵和眼睛扭向那发生声响的方向，直到他瞧见了那只鸟，才又把头俯下来喝水。
喝完水，他在岸边坐下来，侧对着潭，好让他能够监视那条荒僻小径的入口。他将双膝搂抱着，下巴垂到了膝盖上。
夕阳的光从洼谷朝上面爬去，而当它移行时，似乎由于不断在添加着的灿亮所有的山峦越发闪射出光芒来。
李奈柔声地说：“我并没有忘记呀，你相信，他妈的。在丛树林里躲着等佐治来。”他扯低帽舌，把自己的眼睛盖住。“佐治准不会饶过我，”他说。“佐治准会希望没有我打扰他，他自己独个儿过活。”他转过头来望着那些灿亮的山峦。“就是那儿，我能够走到那边去，找个山洞，”他说。接着他的语气又转为忧郁的调子了：“———茄酱的再不会有了———但我不打紧。佐治要是不要我了呢……我就走开，我就走开。”
不一会，一个小而胖的老妇人从李奈的脑壳里面走了出来。她戴一副厚厚的凸玻璃眼镜，身穿阔大的、缝有口袋，显得干净而笔挺的条纹布围裙，她满不高兴地站在李奈面前，两手搁在屁股上，皱着眉头瞧着他。
当她讲话时，发出的声音李奈的声音。“我对你讲了又讲，”她说。“我对你讲过，‘你要顾到佐治。因为他是这么好的一个人，待你又好。’可你呢，从来就不当心。老有坏事给你干出来。”
李奈回她道：“我是尽心要顾他的，卡莉拉姑姑，夫人。我尽心了又尽心。我是没办法呀。”
“你从来都没替佐治着想过，”她用李奈的口音继续讲下去。“他无时无刻不用好心肠待你。逢着他有一块馅饼到手呢，总有半块给你得到或者半块还要多。全都会是你的，要是有一点子茄酱。”
“我知道，”李奈悲惨地说。“我尽心去顾他的，卡莉拉姑姑，夫人。我尽心了又尽心的。”
她把他的话打断。“任什么时候他都会得到一个好光景，他要不是为了你，工钱拿到手，他可以上窑子混去，要不就蹲在赌馆里玩两下弹子。可是呀，他总是非得看顾着你。”
李奈伤心地泣诉了。“我知道，卡莉拉姑姑，夫人。我要走到山里去，找个山洞住下来，那样佐治就不会被我拖累了。”
“你不过说说罢了，”她尖刻地说。“你常常这样说，但你决不会这样做的，这你知道得死鬼清楚的。你还不是一年到头死跟着佐治，靠他的看顾过日子。”
李奈说：“我也可以走开的哪。这回佐治准是不会给兔子给我管的了。”
卡莉拉姑姑消失了，又有一只肥大的兔子来从李奈的头壳里跳了出。它两扇屁股支着地面，坐在他面前，不住地对着他蹙鼻子和摇耳朵。它说话也是用的李奈的声音。
“管兔子吗，”它嘲笑道。“你这傻瓜杂种。哈哈，你连给兔子舐靴底都不够格呢。你待它们准会是粗心大意的，叫它们饿肚子。你准这样。那你想，佐治会怎么想呢？”
李奈高声说：“我绝不会粗心的。”
“你他妈的才不会哩，”兔子说。“你比那一枚发锈的把你的棺材钉牢的大号铁钉还不值价。上帝知道佐治是拚了命，要从阴沟里把你拔出来的，但丝毫好处也没有。要是你以为佐治会把兔子给你管，那你比平常傻得更出格来了。他不会。他还要拿一根棍子打得你扁，他就这么做呀。”
现在，李奈针锋相对地反驳了起来。“佐治决不会干这样的事情。他决不这样。佐治我向来是几时我不记得了———就了解，拿着棍子对我举起手来他从来不这样的。他不是这么下流的。他待我可好啦。”
“唔，对你他可讨厌了呢，”兔子说。“他会打得你死扁，然后走开，把你丢下来。”
“他不会的，”李奈发狂般地叫了起来。“这种事他不会做的。佐治我了解。我是同他打帮一起找活路的呀。”
但那兔子却一遍又一遍柔声地重复着：“你这傻杂种，他会把你丢下来的呀。他会叫你独自个儿过日子的。你这傻杂种，他会把你丢了下来的啊。”
李奈用双手掩上耳朵。“他不会，我跟你讲他不会。”于是他大喊了起来：“哟！佐治———佐治———佐治！”
悄悄地佐治打丛树林里出来了，那兔子忙跳回到李奈的脑壳里去。
“你在喊什么鸟的？”佐治恬然地说。
李奈双膝跪地跪着说：“佐治，你不会把我丢下来的吧，会不会呀？你不会的我知道。”
佐治僵硬地走近他身旁坐了下来。“不会。”
“我知道呀，”李奈叫起来。“你不是那种人。”
佐治不出声，沉默着。
“佐治？”李奈说。
“嗯？”
“我还做了另外一桩坏事呢。”
佐治说：“那没有什么要紧的，”接着他又沉浸到了沉默之中。
现在只剩下最高的山脊上还有阳光映着了。山谷中的暮色蔚蓝柔和。人们相互呼喝的声音打远处传了过来。佐治把头拧过来仔细倾听这些呼喝。
“佐治。”李奈说。
“嗯？”
“是不是你要骂我呢？”
“骂你？”
“是呀，象以前你常常骂的那样。打个比方说吧：‘要是没有你，我得到五十块钱就……’”
“天啊，李奈！对那些发生的事情你全都记不住，倒是每句我说过的话你都记住了。”
“唔，是不是你要讲呢？”
佐治打了个抖颤。他木然地说：“我可以过得很写意，要是我是自己一个人。”他的声音没有抑扬，平平而单调。“我可以找个活干，不会弄出什么乱子来。”他停了下来。
“接着讲吧，”李奈说。“到得月尾———”
“到得月尾，我可以把我那五十块钱拿到手，就去找一间……窑子……”他又停了下来。
李奈恳切地望定他。“接着讲吧，佐治。是不是你会不再骂我了呢？”
佐治说：“不骂了。”
“啊，我可以走开的，”李奈说。“要是你不要我，我就走到山里找个洞住去。”
佐治又颤抖了一下。“别，”他说。“我要你留下来和我一块儿。”
“讲给我听吧，象你过去那样讲。”李奈乖觉地说了。
“讲什么呀？”
“讲我们怎样，别人又怎样。”
佐治说：“他们是没有家的，象我们一样的角儿们。聚得一小笔钱他们，就随手花干净。他们得不着一个谁关心他们，在这个世界上……”
“那可不是我们呀，”李奈快乐地叫道。“快讲我们吧。”
静默了一会，他说：“那可不是我们。”
“因为……”
“因为我有你，并且呢……”
李奈得意极了，叫起来：“并且我又有你。我们是两个。就是这个，这个使得我们得到关心。”
空地上掠过一阵微弱的晚风，树叶子窸窸窣窣地响了起来，风丝把碧潭吹皱了。人们的呼喝声再次响了起来，这回来得比刚才更加近了。
佐治把他的帽子脱了下来。他发抖地说：“把帽子脱了吧，李奈。空气像是很清新哩。”
李奈毕恭毕敬地除下帽子，把它放到在自己跟前的地面上摆着。山谷里的暮色愈发苍茫了，晚昏很快就会降临。风把丛树林里的响动传到了他们耳边。
“讲呀，讲将来会是什么样子的。”李奈说。
佐治已经在细细地听着远处的声音。很快地就盘算停当了。“瞧着河的那边吧，李奈，那样一来我就可以一面讲给你听，一面你就可以看得见它了。”
李奈把头拧转过来，越过这水潭远远地眺着正在黯淡下来的加比兰群山的斜脊。“我们就要有一小块地了，”佐治开了头。他把手探到口袋里把贾尔纯的鲁格枪掏了出来；啪地把保险片打开，用手拿着它把它搁在李奈背后的地面上。他瞧着李奈的脑后勺，那脑盖和脊梁接合的地方。
河的上游传来一个人的叫喊声，接着又传来另一个人的回答。
李奈说：“讲下去吧。”
佐治举起枪，他的手打抖，于是又垂到了地上。
“接着讲啊，”李奈说。“讲就要怎样了。我们就要有一小块地了。”
“我们就要有一条母牛，”佐治说。“说不定我们还会有好些小鸡和一头猪……在房子边上我们有一……一小块紫花苜蓿……”
李奈大声叫了起来：“给兔子的。”
佐治重复一句：“给兔子的。”
“啊，兔子一定要归我管呀。”
“唔，兔子一定要归你管呀。”
“还有哩，还有靠自己的土地过日子哩。”李奈快活得格格地笑了。
“是呀。”
李奈把头转回过来。
“你别，李奈。看着河的那边吧，好象那块地就要给你看到了。”
李奈照着他的话做了。佐治垂头瞧着他的手枪。
现在丛树林里响起了杂沓的脚步声。佐治扭转身朝着那个方向看。
“佐治，讲下去吧。什么时候我们干得起来呢？”
“就快要干得起来了。”
“你和我。”
“我……和你。谁都会好好地待你，到了那时。再也不会出乱子了。谁也不会伤害谁，谁也不会去偷谁的物事。”
“你是在发我的气呀我想，佐治。”李奈说。
“不，”佐治说。“不呀，李奈。我不是发气。发气我从来就不，现在我也没有发。就是这件事，我要你明白。”
此刻人声近了过来，佐治把手抢举起，一面谛听着。
“让我们马上就干起来吧，让我们马上弄到那块地吧。”李奈恳求道。
“当然喽，马上干。我准干。我们准干。”
这时佐治把枪举起，并且把它稳住了，枪口不偏不倚过贴近着李奈的脑后勺。佐治的手抖得非常厉害，但他沉着脸，把手稳住了。他扣动扳机。子弹的爆发声滚上山头，然后又再滚了下来。李奈的身子歪倒了一边，徐徐地朝沙滩仆倒，然后就动也不动地躺在那儿了。
瞧着手里的枪，佐治全身发抖。他把枪扔了去，枪落到了离岸边不远，那旧灰堆靠得很近的地方。
丛树林里像是满是奔跑的脚步声和叫喊声。“佐治，你在哪儿？佐治！”施琳的声音在喝道。
但佐治木然在沙滩上坐着，瞧着他那把枪扔了开去的右手。人群冲到了空地上来；一马当先走在前面的正是顾利。他看见李奈躺在沙上。“逮住他，妈的。”他走过去瞧了瞧李奈，然后把脸转过来对着佐治。“正好打在后脑勺上呢。”他轻声说。
施琳径直走向佐治，在他身边坐下，和他靠得非常近。“你想开些，”施琳说：“有时一个人总不免这样的。”
但贾尔纯却站到了佐治跟前来，问：“你是怎么干的呀？”
佐治没精打采地回答说：“就这么干了的。”
“他手里拿着我的枪吧？”
“唔，他手里拿着你的枪。”
“那么你是把这枪从他手上夺了过来，就拿它把他打死的？”
“唔。就是这样啦。”佐治的声音低得近乎耳语。他凝神自己那只望着握过枪的右手。
施琳一把拉住佐治的手肘。“来吧，佐治，我跟你一起去喝杯酒去。”
趁这一拉，佐治把双脚站了起来。“对，喝杯酒去。”
施琳说：“佐治，你不得不这样。你是只能这样干的我敢说。和我一道来吧。”他领着佐治从那荒僻小径的路口走了出去，朝公路那边去了。
贾尔纯和顾利瞧着他们的背影。“喂，你看他们两个搞什么鸟名堂去呢？”贾尔纯说。
…”