He smoothed out his crushed hat, creased it in the middle and put it on.
He looked kindly at the two in the bunk house. “It’s brighter’n a bitch outside,” he said gently.
“Can’t hardly see nothing in here. You the new guys?” “Just come,” said George.
“Gonna buck barley?” “That’s what the boss says.” Slim sat down on a box across the table from George.
He studied the solitaire hand that was upside down to him. “Hope you get on my team,” he said. His voice was very gentle.
“I gotta pair of punks on my team that don’t know a barley bag from a blue ball. You guys ever bucked any barley?”
“Hell, yes,” said George. “I ain’t nothing to scream about, but that big bastard there can put up more grain alone than most pairs can.”
Lennie, who had been following the conversation back and forth with his eyes, smiled complacently at the compliment.
Slim looked approvingly at George for having given the compliment.
He leaned over the table and snapped the corner of a loose card.
“You guys travel around together?” His tone was friendly. It invited confidence without demanding it.
“Sure,” said George. “We kinda look after each other.”
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