The sun square was on the floor now, and the flies whipped through it like sparks.
A sound of jingling harness and the croak of heavy-laden axles sounded from outside.
From the distance came a clear call. “Stable Buck—ooh, sta-able Buck!”
And then, “Where the hell is that God damn nigger?”
George stared at his solitaire lay, and then he flounced the cards together and turned around to Lennie.
Lennie was lying down on the bunk watching him. “Look, Lennie! This here ain't no set up. I'm scared.”
“You gonna have trouble with that Curley guy. I seen that kind before.”
“He was kinda feelin' you out. He figures he's got you scared and he's gonna take a sock at you the first chance he gets.”
Lennie's eyes were frightened. “I don't want no trouble,” he said plaintively.
“Don't let him sock me, George.” George got up and went over to Lennie's bunk and sat down on it.
“I hate that kinda bastard,” he said. “I seen plenty of 'em.”
“Like the old guy says, Curley don't take no chances. He always wins.”
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