Free Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck Page A
Authors: John Steinbeck
hunched down on the little barrel. "You think it's a lie,"
Lennie said, "But it ain't no lie. Ever' word's the truth, an' you can ast George."
Crooks put his dark chin into his pink palm. "You travel aroun'
with George, don't ya?"
"Sure. Me an' him goes ever' place together."
Crooks continued. "Sometimes he talks, and you don't know what the hell he's talkin' about. Ain't that so?" He leaned forward, boring Lennie with his deep eyes. "Ain't that so?"
"Yeah . . . . sometimes."
"Jus' talks on, an' you don't know what the hell it's all about?"
"Yeah . . . . sometimes. But . . . . not always."
Crooks leaned forward over the edge of the bunk. "I ain't a Southern Negro," he said." I was born right bere in California. My old man had a chicken ranch, 'bout ten acres. The white kids come to play at our place, an' sometimes I event to play with them, and some of them was pretty nice. My of man didn't like that. I never knew till long later why he didn't like that. But I know now." He hesitated, and when he spoke again his voice was softer. "There wasn't another colored family for miles around. And now there ain't a colored man on this ranch an' there's jus' one family in Soledad." He laughed. "If I say something, why it's just a nigger sayin' it"
Lennie asked, "How long you think it'll be before them pups will be old enough to pet?"
Crooks laughed again. "A guy can talk to you an' be sure you won't go blabbin'. Couple of weeks an' them pups'll be all right.
George knows what he's about. Jus' talks, an' you don't understand nothing." He leaned forward excitedly. "This is just a nigger talkin', an' a busted-back nigger. So it don't mean nothing, see? You couldn't remember it anyways. I seen it over an' over-a guy talkin' to another guy and it don't make no difference if he don't hear or understand. The thing is, they're talkin', or they're settin' still not talkin'. It don't make no difference, no difference."
His excitement had increased until he pounded his knee with his hand. "George can tell you screwy things, and it don't matter. It's just the talking. It's just bein' with another guy. That's all." He paused.
His voice grew soft and persuasive. "S'pose George don't come back no more. S'pose he took a powder and just ain't coming back.
What'll you do then?"
Lennie's attention came gradually to what had been said. "What?"
he demanded.
"I said s'pose George went into town tonight and you never heard of him no more." Crooks pressed forward some kind of private victory. "Just s'pose that," he repeated.
"He won't do it," Lennie cried. "George wouldn't do nothing like that. I been with George a long time. He'll come back tonight-" But the doubt was too much for him. "Don't you think he will?"
Crooks' face lighted with pleasure in his torture.
"Nobody can't tell what a guy'll do," he observed calmly. "Le's say he wants to come back and can't. S'pose he gets killed or hurt so he can't come back."
Lennie struggled to understand. "George won't do nothing like that," he repeated.."George is careful. He won't get hurt. He ain't never been hurt, 'cause he's careful."
"Well, s'pose, jus' s'pose he don't come back. What'll you do then?"
Lennie's face wrinkled with apprehension. "I don' know. Say, what you doin' anyways?" he cried. "This ain't true. George ain't got hurt."
Crooks bored in on him. "Want me to tell ya what'll happen?
They'll take ya to the booby hatch. They'll tie ya up with a collar, like a dog."
Suddenly Lennie's eyes. centered and grew quiet, and mad. He stood up and walked dangerously toward Crooks. "Who hurt George?" he demanded.
Crooks saw the danger as it approached him. He edged back on his bunk to get out of the way. "I was just supposin'," he said.
"George ain't hurt. He's all right. He'll be back all right."
Lennie stood over him. "What you supposin' for? Ain't nobody goin' to suppose no hurt to George."
Crooks removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with his
Lennie said, "But it ain't no lie. Ever' word's the truth, an' you can ast George."
Crooks put his dark chin into his pink palm. "You travel aroun'
with George, don't ya?"
"Sure. Me an' him goes ever' place together."
Crooks continued. "Sometimes he talks, and you don't know what the hell he's talkin' about. Ain't that so?" He leaned forward, boring Lennie with his deep eyes. "Ain't that so?"
"Yeah . . . . sometimes."
"Jus' talks on, an' you don't know what the hell it's all about?"
"Yeah . . . . sometimes. But . . . . not always."
Crooks leaned forward over the edge of the bunk. "I ain't a Southern Negro," he said." I was born right bere in California. My old man had a chicken ranch, 'bout ten acres. The white kids come to play at our place, an' sometimes I event to play with them, and some of them was pretty nice. My of man didn't like that. I never knew till long later why he didn't like that. But I know now." He hesitated, and when he spoke again his voice was softer. "There wasn't another colored family for miles around. And now there ain't a colored man on this ranch an' there's jus' one family in Soledad." He laughed. "If I say something, why it's just a nigger sayin' it"
Lennie asked, "How long you think it'll be before them pups will be old enough to pet?"
Crooks laughed again. "A guy can talk to you an' be sure you won't go blabbin'. Couple of weeks an' them pups'll be all right.
George knows what he's about. Jus' talks, an' you don't understand nothing." He leaned forward excitedly. "This is just a nigger talkin', an' a busted-back nigger. So it don't mean nothing, see? You couldn't remember it anyways. I seen it over an' over-a guy talkin' to another guy and it don't make no difference if he don't hear or understand. The thing is, they're talkin', or they're settin' still not talkin'. It don't make no difference, no difference."
His excitement had increased until he pounded his knee with his hand. "George can tell you screwy things, and it don't matter. It's just the talking. It's just bein' with another guy. That's all." He paused.
His voice grew soft and persuasive. "S'pose George don't come back no more. S'pose he took a powder and just ain't coming back.
What'll you do then?"
Lennie's attention came gradually to what had been said. "What?"
he demanded.
"I said s'pose George went into town tonight and you never heard of him no more." Crooks pressed forward some kind of private victory. "Just s'pose that," he repeated.
"He won't do it," Lennie cried. "George wouldn't do nothing like that. I been with George a long time. He'll come back tonight-" But the doubt was too much for him. "Don't you think he will?"
Crooks' face lighted with pleasure in his torture.
"Nobody can't tell what a guy'll do," he observed calmly. "Le's say he wants to come back and can't. S'pose he gets killed or hurt so he can't come back."
Lennie struggled to understand. "George won't do nothing like that," he repeated.."George is careful. He won't get hurt. He ain't never been hurt, 'cause he's careful."
"Well, s'pose, jus' s'pose he don't come back. What'll you do then?"
Lennie's face wrinkled with apprehension. "I don' know. Say, what you doin' anyways?" he cried. "This ain't true. George ain't got hurt."
Crooks bored in on him. "Want me to tell ya what'll happen?
They'll take ya to the booby hatch. They'll tie ya up with a collar, like a dog."
Suddenly Lennie's eyes. centered and grew quiet, and mad. He stood up and walked dangerously toward Crooks. "Who hurt George?" he demanded.
Crooks saw the danger as it approached him. He edged back on his bunk to get out of the way. "I was just supposin'," he said.
"George ain't hurt. He's all right. He'll be back all right."
Lennie stood over him. "What you supposin' for? Ain't nobody goin' to suppose no hurt to George."
Crooks removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with his