The heron pounded the air with its wings, jacked itself clear of the water and flew off down river.
The little snake slid in among the reeds at the pool’s side. Lennie came quietly to the pool’s edge.
He knelt down and drank, barely touching his lips to the water.
When a little bird skittered over the dry leaves behind him, his head jerked up
and he strained toward the sound with eyes and ears until he saw the bird, and then he dropped his head and drank again.
When he was finished, he sat down on the bank, with his side to the pool, so that he could watch the trail’s entrance.
He embraced his knees and laid his chin down on his knees.
The light climbed on out of the valley, and as it went, the tops of the mountains seemed to blaze with increasing brightness.
Lennie said softly, “I di’n’t forget, you bet, God damn. Hide in the brush an’ wait for George.”
He pulled his hat down low over his eyes. “George gonna give me hell,” he said.
“George gonna wish he was alone an’ not have me botherin’ him.” He turned his head and looked at the bright mountain tops.
“I can go right off there an’ find a cave,” he said. And he continued sadly, “—an’ never have no ketchup—but I won’t care.”
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