О мышах и людях

           «Idon’tliketoplayever’night,"saidSlim.

           Candywenton,«Eitheryouguysgotaslugofwhisky?Igottagutache.»

           «Iain’t,"saidSlim.«I’ddrinkitmyselfifIhad,an’Iain’tgotagutacheneither.»

           «Gottabadgutache,"saidCandy.«ThemGoddamnturnipsgiveittome.IknowedtheywasgoingtobeforeIevereat‘em.»

           Thethick-bodiedCarlsoncameinoutofthedarkeningyard.Hewalkedtotheotherendofthebunkhouseandturnedonthesecondshadedlight.«Darker’nhellinhere,"hesaid.«Jesus,howthatniggercanpitchshoes.»

           «He’splentygood,"saidSlim.

           «Damnrightheis,"saidCarlson.«Hedon’tgivenobodyelseachancetowin—"Hestoppedandsniffedtheair,andstillsniffing,lookeddownattheolddog.«Godawmighty,thatdogstinks.Gethimoutahere,Candy!Idon’tknownothingthatstinksasbadasanolddog.Yougottagethimout.»

           Candyrolledtotheedgeofhisbunk.Hereachedoverandpattedtheancientdog,andheapologized,«IbeenaroundhimsomuchInevernoticehowhestinks.»

           «Well,Ican’tstandhiminhere,"saidCarlson.«Thatstinkhangsaroundevenafterhe’sgone.»Hewalkedoverwithhisheavy-leggedstrideandlookeddownatthedog.«Gotnoteeth,"hesaid.«He’sallstiffwithrheumatism.Heain’tnogoodtoyou,Candy.An’heain’tnogoodtohimself.Why’n’tyoushoothim,Candy?»