A 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 spread pads 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, with 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. "Tha’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 dabb1ed 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 wasmore 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 yon 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 say."

"The hell with what I says. You remember about us goin’ into

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

only a mouse, George."

"A mouse? A live mouse?"

"Uh-uh. Jus’ a dead mouse, George. I didn’ kill it. ’ Honest! I

found it. I found it dead."

"Give it here!" said George.

"Aw, leave me have it, George."

"Give ithere!"

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

were 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 hid 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 bucking 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."