“I guess maybe I’d like to see this,” he said. “Curley’s just spoilin’ or he wouldn’t start for Slim.”
“An’ Curley’s handy, God damn handy. Got in the finals for the Golden Gloves. He got newspaper clippings about it.”
He considered. “But jus’ the same, he better leave Slim alone. Nobody don’t know what Slim can do.”
“Thinks Slim’s with his wife, don’t he?” said George. “Looks like it,” Whit said.
“‘Course Slim ain’t. Least I don’t think Slim is. But I like to see the fuss if it comes off. Come on, le’s go.”
George said, “I’m stayin’ right here. I don’t want to get mixed up in nothing. Lennie and me got to make a stake.”
Carlson finished the cleaning of the gun and put it in the bag and pushed the bag under his bunk. “I guess I’ll go out and look her over,” he said.
Old Candy lay still, and Lennie, from his bunk, watched George cautiously.
When Whit and Carlson were gone and the door closed after them, George turned to Lennie.
What you got on your mind?” “I ain’t done nothing, George. Slim says I better not pet them pups so much for a while.
Slim says it ain’t good for them; so I come right in. I been good, George.
“I coulda told you that,” said George. “Well, I wasn’t hurtin’ ’em none. I jus’ had mine in my lap pettin’ it.”
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