О мышах и людях

           Theoldmancameslowlyintotheroom.Hehadhisbroominhishand.Andathisheelstherewalkedadragfootedsheepdog,grayofmuzzle,andwithpale,blindoldeyes.Thedogstruggledlamelytothesideoftheroomandlaydown,gruntingsoftlytohimselfandlickinghisgrizzled,moth-eatencoat.Theswamperwatchedhimuntilhewassettled.«Iwasn’tlistenin’.Iwasjus’standin’intheshadeaminutescratchin’mydog.Ijus’nowfinishedswampin’outthewashhouse.»

           «Youwaspokin’yourbigearsintoourbusiness,"Georgesaid.«Idon’tlikenobodytogetnosey.»

           TheoldmanlookeduneasilyfromGeorgetoLennie,andthenback.«Ijus’comethere,"hesaid.«Ididn’thearnothingyouguyswassayin’.Iain’tinterestedinnothingyouwassayin’.Aguyonaranchdon’tneverlistennorhedon’tastnoquestions.»

           «Damnrighthedon’t,"saidGeorge,slightlymollified,«notifhewantstostayworkin’long.»Buthewasreassuredbytheswamper’sdefense.«Comeoninandsetdownaminute,"hesaid.«That’sahellofanolddog.»

           «Yeah.Ihad‘imeversincehewasapup.God,hewasagoodsheepdogwhenhewasyounger.»Hestoodhisbroomagainstthewallandherubbedhiswhitebristledcheekwithhisknuckles.«How’dyouliketheboss?»heasked.

           «Prettygood.Seemedawright.»

           «He’sanicefella,"theswamperagreed.«Yougottotakehimright.»

           Atthatmomentayoungmancameintothebunkhouse;athinyoungmanwithabrownface,withbrowneyesandaheadoftightlycurledhair.