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.
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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。
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。
