chapter 3

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."

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