He seemed to shake himself free for speech. “Carl's right, Candy. That dog ain't no good to himself.”
“I wisht somebody'd shoot me if I get old an' a cripple.”
Candy looked helplessly at him, for Slim's opinions were law. “Maybe it'd hurt him,” he suggested. “I don't mind takin' care of him.”
Carlson said, “The way I'd shoot him, he wouldn't feel nothing. I'd put the gun right there.”
He pointed with his toe. “Right back of the head. He wouldn't even quiver.”
Candy looked for help from face to face. It was quite dark outside by now. A young laboring man came in.
His sloping shoulders were bent forward and he walked heavily on his heels, as though he carried the invisible grain bag.
He went to his bunk and put his hat on his shelf. Then he picked up a pulp magazine from his shelf
and brought it to the light over the table. “Did I show you this, Slim?” he asked.
“Show me what?” The young man turned to the back of the magazine, put it down on the table
and pointed with his finger. “Right there, read that.”
Slim bent over it. “Go on,” said the young man. “Read it out loud.”
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색