He indicated Lennie with his thumb. “He ain’t bright. Hell of a good worker, though.”
“Hell of a nice fella, but he ain’t bright. I’ve known him for a long time.”
Slim looked through George and beyond him. “Ain’t many guys travel around together,” he mused.
“I don’t know why. Maybe ever’body in the whole damn world is scared of each other.”
“It’s a lot nicer to go around with a guy you know,” said George.
A powerful, big-stomached man came into the bunk house. His head still dripped water from the scrubbing and dousing.
“Hi, Slim,” he said, and then stopped and stared at George and Lennie.
“These guys jus’ come,” said Slim by way of introduction.
“Glad to meet ya,” the big man said. “My name’s Carlson.”
“I’m George Milton. This here’s Lennie Small.” “Glad to meet ya,” Carlson said again. “He ain’t very small.”
He chuckled softly at his joke. “Ain’t small at all,” he repeated.
“Meant to ask you, Slim—how’s your bitch? I seen she wasn’t under your wagon this morning.”
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