anybody got a copy of the john steinback novel, "Of Mice & Men", i need that chapter where the dog gets shot

Question

where it starts with lennie playing with the puppy and ends with the next day when candy is stood next to the men on the cart, just before they go off to the fields.

i need that chapter, like its written in the book coz i need to compare it with another book and i don't have both books & its in for 2moz. uni thing 4 english

i dont have the book bcoz ive been borrowing them (cant afford my own) and cant find one to borrow at the mo

i know the chapter, i wondered what it says, im supposed to use quotes and i can write in proper english, but i prefer like this

library = closed

well, no the library is not closed everyday.

but, if it is due in tommorrow at 9am and my local library opens at 9am it's kind of difficult to borrow a copy from the library and write it in time

Answer 1

go to this website. You can download the entire book as a pdf.

http://thepiratebay.org/search.php?q=mice+men

If you don't know how to use torrent files, goto this link. Don't worry; it's easy.

http://thepiratebay.org/howdoidownload.php


P.S. Someone said it was chapter 3. If so, here it is.

Although there was evening brightness showing through the windows of the
bunk house, inside it was dusk. Through the open door came the thuds and
occasional clangs of a horseshoe game, and now and then the sound of voices
raised in approval or derision.
Slim and George came into the darkening bunk house together. Slim reached
up over the card table and turned on the tin-shaded electric light. Instantly the
table was brilliant with light, and the cone of the shade threw its brightness
straight downward, leaving the corners of the bunk house still in dusk. Slim sat
down on a box and George took his place opposite.
“It wasn’t nothing,” said Slim. “I would of had to drowned most of ‘em
anyways. No need to thank me about that.”
George said, “It wasn’t much to you, maybe, but it was a hell of alot to him.
Jesus Christ, I don’t know how we’re gonna get him to sleep in here. He’ll want
to sleep right out in the barn with ‘em. We’ll have trouble keepin’ him from
getting right in the box with them pups.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” Slim repeated. “Say, you sure was right about him.
Maybe he ain’t bright, but I never seen such a worker. He damn near killed his
partner buckin’ barley. There ain’t nobody can keep up with him. God
awmighty, I never seen such a strong guy.”
George spoke proudly. “Jus’ tell Lennie what to do an’ he’ll do it if it don’t
take no figuring. He can’t think of nothing to do himself, but he sure can take
orders.”
There was a clang of horseshoe on iron stake outside and a little cheer of
voices.
Slim moved back slightly so the light was not on his face. “Funny how you
an’ him string along together.” It was Slim’s calm invitation to confidence.
“What’s funny about it?” George demanded defensively.
“Oh, I dunno. Hardly none of the guys ever travel together. I hardly never
seen two guys travel together. You know how the hands are, they just come in
and get their bunk and work a month, and then they quit and go out alone.
Never seem to give a damn about nobody. It jus’ seems kinda funny a cuckoo
like him and a smart little guy like you travelin’ together.”
“He ain’t no cuckoo,” said George. “He’s dumb as hell, but he ain’t crazy.
An’ I ain’t so bright neither, or I wouldn’t be buckin’ barley for my fifty and
found. If I was bright, if I was even a little bit smart, I’d have my own little
place, an’ I’d be bringin’ in my own crops, ‘stead of doin’ all the work and not
getting what comes up outa the ground.” George fell silent. He wanted to talk.
Slim neither encouraged nor discouraged him. He just sat back quiet and
receptive.
“It ain’t so funny, him an’ me goin’ aroun’ together,” George said at last.
“Him and me was both born in Auburn. I knowed his Aunt Clara. She took him
when he was a baby and raised him up. When his Aunt Clara died, Lennie just
come along with me out workin’. Got kinda used to each other after a little
while.”
“Umm,” said Slim.
George looked over at Slim and saw the calm, Godlike eyes fastened on him.
“Funny,” said George. “I used to have a hell of a lot of fun with ‘im. Used to
play jokes on ‘im ‘cause he was too dumb to take care of ‘imself. But he was
too dumb even to know he had a joke played on him. I had fun. Made me seem
God damn smart alongside of him. Why he’d do any damn thing I tol’ him. If I
tol’ him to walk over a cliff, over he’d go. That wasn’t so damn much fun after
a while. He never got mad about it, neither. I’ve beat the hell outa him, and he
coulda bust every bone in my body jus’ with his han’s, but he never lifted a
finger against me.” George’s voice was taking on the tone of confession. “Tell
you what made me stop that. One day a bunch of guys was standin’ around up
on the Sacramento River. I was feelin’ pretty smart. I turns to Lennie and says,
‘Jump in.’ An’ he jumps. Couldn’t swim a stroke. He damn near drowned
before we could get him. An’ he was so damn nice to me for pullin’ him out.
Clean forgot I told him to jump in. Well, I ain’t done nothing like that no more.”
“He’s a nice fella,” said Slim. “Guy don’t need no sense to be a nice fella.
Seems to me sometimes it jus’ works the other way around. Take a real smart
guy and he ain’t hardly ever a nice fella.”
George stacked the scattered cards and began to lay out his solitaire hand.
The shoes thudded on the ground outside. At the windows the light of the
evening still made the window squares bright.
“I ain’t got no people,” George said. “I seen the guys that go around on the
ranches alone. That ain’t no good. They don’t have no fun. After a long time
they get mean. They get wantin’ to fight all the time.”
“Yeah, they get mean,” Slim agreed. “They get so they don’t want to talk to
nobody.”
“’Course Lennie’s a God damn nuisance most of the time,” said George.
“But you get used to goin’ around with a guy an’ you can’t get rid of him.”
“He ain’t mean,” said Slim. “I can see Lennie ain’t a bit mean.”
“’Course he ain’t mean. But he gets in trouble alla time because he’s so God
damn dumb. Like what happened in Weed-“ He stopped, stopped in the middle
of turning over a card. He looked alarmed and peered over at Slim. “You
wouldn’t tell nobody?”
“What’d he do in Weed?” Slim asked calmly.
“You wouldn’ tell? . . . . No, ‘course you wouldn’.”
“What’d he do in Weed?” Slim asked again.
“Well, he seen this girl in a red dress. Dumb bastard like he is, he wants to
touch ever’thing he likes. Just wants to feel it. So he reaches out to feel this red
dress an’ the girl lets out a squawk, and that gets Lennie all mixed up, and he
holds on ‘cause that’s the only thing he can think to do. Well, this girl squawks
and squawks. I was jus’ a little bit off, and I heard all the yellin’, so I comes
running, an’ by that time Lennie’s so scared all he can think to do is jus’ hold
on. I socked him over the head with a fence picket to make him let go. He was
so scairt he couldn’t let go of that dress. And he’s so God damn strong, you
know.”
Slim’s eyes were level and unwinking. He nodded very slowly. “So what
happens?”
George carefully built his line of solitaire cards. “Well, that girl rabbits in an’
tells the law she been raped. The guys in Weed start a party out to lynch Lennie.
So we sit in a irrigation ditch under water all the rest of that day. Got on’y our
heads sticking outa water, an’ up under the grass that sticks out from the side of
the ditch. An’ that night we scrammed outa there.”
Slim sat in silence for a moment. “Didn’t hurt the girl none, huh?” he asked
finally.
“Hell, no. He just scared her. I’d be scared too if he grabbed me. But he
never hurt her. He jus’ wanted to touch that red dress, like he wants to pet them
pups all the time.”
“He ain’t mean,” said Slim. “I can tell a mean guy a mile off.”
“’Course he ain’t, and he’ll do any damn thing I—”
Lennie came in through the door. He wore his blue denim coat over his
shoulders like a cape, and he walked hunched way over.
“Hi, Lennie,” said George. “How you like the pup now?”
Lennie said breathlessly, “He’s brown an’ white jus’ like I wanted.” He went
directly to his bunk and lay down and turned his face to the wall and drew up
his knees.
George put down his cards very deliberately. “Lennie,” he said sharply.
Lennie twisted his neck and looked over his shoulder. “Huh? What you want,
George?”
“I tol’ you you couldn’t bring that pup in here.”
“What pup, George? I ain’t got no pup.”
George went quickly to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him
over. He reached down and picked the tiny puppy from where Lennie had been
concealing it against his stomach.
Lennie sat up quickly. “Give ‘um to me, George.”
George said, “You get right up an’ take this pup back to the nest. He’s gotta
sleep with his mother. You want to kill him? Just born last night an’ you take
him out of the nest. You take him back or I’ll tell Slim not to let you have him.”
Lennie held out his hands pleadingly. “Give ‘um to me, George. I’ll take ‘um
back. I didn’t mean no harm, George. Honest I didn’t. I jus’ wanted to pet ‘um a
little.”
George handed the pup to him. “Awright. You get him back there quick, and
don’t you take him out no more. You’ll kill him, the first thing you know.”
Lennie fairly scuttled out of the room.
Slim had not moved. His calm eyes followed Lennie out the door. “Jesus,”
he said. “He’s jus’ like a kid, ain’t he?”
“Sure he’s jes’ like a kid. There ain’t no more harm in him than a kid neither,
except he’s so strong. I bet he won’t come in here to sleep tonight. He’d sleep
right alongside that box in the barn. Well—let ‘im. He ain’t doin’ no harm out
there.”
It was almost dark outside now. Old Candy, the swamper, came in and went
to his bunk, and behind him struggled his old dog. “Hello, Slim. Hello, George.
Didn’t neither of you play horseshoes?”
“I don’t like to play ever’ night,” said Slim.
Candy went on, “Either you guys got a slug of whisky? I gotta gut ache.”
“I ain’t,” said Slim. “I’d drink it myself if I had, an’ I ain’t got a gut ache
neither.”
“Gotta bad gut ache,” said Candy. “Them God damn turnips give it to me. I
knowed they was going to before I ever eat ‘em.”
The thick-bodied Carlson came in out of the darkening yard. He walked to
the other end of the bunk house and turned on the second shaded light.
“Darker’n hell in here,” he said. “Jesus, how that ****** can pitch shoes.”
“He’s plenty good,” said Slim.
“Damn right he is,” said Carlson. “He don’t give nobody else a chance to win
—” He stopped and sniffed the air, and still sniffing, looked down at the old
dog. “God awmighty, that dog stinks. Get him outa here, Candy! I don’t know
nothing that stinks as bad as an old dog. You gotta get him out.”
Candy rolled to the edge of his bunk. He reached over and patted the ancient
dog, and he apologized, “I been around him so much I never notice how he
stinks.”
“Well, I can’t stand him in here,” said Carlson. “That stink hangs around
even after he’s gone.” He walked over with his heavy-legged stride and looked
down at the dog. “Got no teeth,” he said. “He’s all stiff with rheumatism. He
ain’t no good to you, Candy. An’ he ain’t no good to himself. Why’n’t you
shoot him, Candy?”
The old man squirmed uncomfortably. “Well—hell! I had him so long. Had
him since he was a pup. I herded sheep with him.” He said proudly, “You
wouldn’t think it to look at him now, but he was the best damn sheep dog I ever
seen.”
George said, “I seen a guy in Weed that had an Airedale could herd sheep.
Learned it from the other dogs.”
Carlson was not to be put off. “Look, Candy. This ol’ dog jus’ suffers hisself
all the time. If you was to take him out and shoot him right in the back of the
head—” he leaned over and pointed, “—right there, why he’d never know what
hit him.”
Candy looked about unhappily. “No,” he said softly. “No, I couldn’t do that.
I had ‘im too long.”
“He don’t have no fun,” Carlson insisted. “And he stinks to beat hell. Tell
you what. I’ll shoot him for you. Then it won’t be you that does it.”
Candy threw his legs off his bunk. He scratched the white stubble whiskers
on his cheek nervously. “I’m so used to him,” he said softly. “I had him from a
pup.”
“Well, you ain’t bein’ kind to him keepin’ him alive,” said Carlson. “Look,
Slim’s ***** got a litter right now. I bet Slim would give you one of them pups
to raise up, wouldn’t you, Slim?”
The skinner had been studying the old dog with his calm eyes. “Yeah,” he
said. “You can have a pup if you want to.” 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 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.”
“’Dear Editor,’” Slim read slowly. “’I read your mag for six years and I think
it is the best on the market. I like stories by Peter Rand. I think he is a whingding.
Give us more like the Dark Rider. I don’t write many letters. Just thought I
would tell you I think your mag is the best dime’s worth I ever spent.’”
Slim looked up questioningly. “What you want me to read that for?”
Whit said, “Go on. Read the name at the bottom.”
Slim read, “’Yours for success, William Tenner.’” He glanced up at Whit
again. “What you want me to read that for?”
Whit closed the magazine impressively. “Don’t you remember Bill Tenner?
Worked here about three months ago?”
Slim thought. . . . . “Little guy?” he asked. “Drove a cultivator?”
“That’s him,” Whit cried. “That’s the guy!”
“You think he’s the guy wrote this letter?”
“I know it. Bill and me was in here one day. Bill had one of them books that
just come. He was lookin’ in it and he says, ‘I wrote a letter. Wonder if they put
it in the book!’ But it wasn’t there. Bill says, ‘Maybe they’re savin’ it for later.’
An’ that’s just what they done. There it is.”
“Guess you’re right,” said Slim. “Got it right in the book.”
George held out his hand for the magazine. “Let’s look at it?”
Whit found the place again, but he did not surrender his hold on it. He
pointed out the letter with his forefinger. And then he went to his box shelf and
laid the magazine carefully in. “I wonder if Bill seen it,” he said. “Bill and me
worked in that patch of field peas. Run cultivators, both of us. Bill was a hell of
a nice fella.”
During the conversation Carlson had refused to be drawn in. He continued to
look down at the old dog. Candy watched him uneasily. At last Carlson said, “If
you want me to, I’ll put the old devil out of his misery right now and get it over
with. Ain’t nothing left for him. Can’t eat, can’t see, can’t even walk without
hurtin’.”
Candy said hopefully, “You ain’t got no gun.”
“The hell I ain’t. Got a Luger. It won’t hurt him none at all.”
Candy said, “Maybe tomorra. Le’s wait till tomorra.”
“I don’t see no reason for it,” said Carlson. He went to his bunk, pulled his
bag from underneath it and took out a Luger pistol. “Le’s get it over with,” he
said. “We can’t sleep with him stinkin’ around in here.” He put the pistol in his
hip pocket.
Candy looked a long time at Slim to try to find some reversal. And Slim gave
him none. At last Candy said softly and hopelessly, “Awright—take ‘im.” He
did not look down at the dog at all. He lay back on his bunk and crossed his
arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
From his pocket Carlson took a little leather thong. He stooped over and tied
it around the old dog’s neck. All the men except Candy watched him. “Come
boy. Come on, boy,” he said gently. And he said apologetically to Candy, “He
won’t even feel it.” Candy did not move nor answer him. He twitched the thong.
“Come on, boy.” The old dog got slowly and stiffly to his feet and followed the
gently pulling leash.
Slim said, “Carlson.”
“Yeah?”
“You know what to do.”
“What ya mean, Slim?”
“Take a shovel,” said Slim shortly.
“Oh, sure! I get you.” He led the dog out into the darkness.
George followed to the door and shut the door and set the latch gently in its
place. Candy lay rigidly on his bed staring at the ceiling.
Slim said loudly, “One of my lead mules got a bad hoof. Got to get some tar
on it.” His voice trailed off. It was silent outside. Carlson’s footsteps died away.
The silence came into the room. And the silence lasted.
George chuckled, “I bet Lennie’s right out there in the barn with his pup. He
won’t want to come in here no more now he’s got a pup.”
Slim said, “Candy, you can have any one of them pups you want.”
Candy did not answer. The silence fell on the room again. It came out of the
night and invaded the room. George said, “Anybody like to play a little euchre?”
“I’ll play out a few with you,” said Whit.
They took places opposite each other at the table under the light, but George
did not shuffle the cards. He rippled the edge of the deck nervously, and the
little snapping noise drew the eyes of all the men in the room, so that he stopped
doing it. The silence fell on the room again. A minute passed, and another
minute. Candy lay still, staring at the ceiling. Slim gazed at him for a moment
and then looked down at his hands; he subdued one hand with the other, and
held it down. There came a little gnawing sound from under the floor and all the
men looked down toward it gratefully. Only Candy continued to stare at the
ceiling.
“Sounds like there was a rat under there,” said George. “We ought to get a
trap down there.”
Whit broke out, “What the hell’s takin’ him so long? Lay out some cards,
why don’t you? We ain’t going to get no euchre played this way.”
George brought the cards together tightly and studied the backs of them. The
silence was in the room again.
A shot sounded in the distance. The men looked quickly at the old man.
Every head turned toward him.
For a moment he continued to stare at the ceiling. Then he rolled slowly over
and faced the wall and lay silent.
George shuffled the cards noisily and dealt them. Whit drew a scoring board
to him and set the pegs to start. Whit said, “I guess you guys really come here to
work.”
“How do ya mean?” George asked.
Whit laughed. “Well, ya come on a Friday. You got two days to work till
Sunday.”
“I don’t see how you figure,” said George.
Whit laughed again. “You do if you been around these big ranches much.
Guy that wants to look over a ranch comes in Sat’day afternoon. He gets
Sat’day night supper an’ three meals on Sunday, and he can quit Monday
mornin’ after breakfast without turning his hand. But you come to work Friday
noon. You got to put in a day an’ a half no matter how you figure.”
George looked at him levelly. “We’re gonna stick aroun’ a while,” he said.
“Me an’ Lennie’s gonna roll up a stake.”
The door opened quietly and the stable buck put in his head; a lean negro
head, lined with pain, the eyes patient. “Mr. Slim.”
Slim took his eyes from old Candy. “Huh? Oh! Hello, Crooks. What’s’ a
matter?”
“You told me to warm up tar for that mule’s foot. I got it warm.”
“Oh! Sure, Crooks. I’ll come right out an’ put it on.”
“I can do it if you want, Mr. Slim.”
“No. I’ll come do it myself.” He stood up.
Crooks said, “Mr. Slim.”
“Yeah.”
“That big new guy’s messin’ around your pups out in the barn.”
“Well, he ain’t doin’ no harm. I give him one of them pups.”
“Just thought I’d tell ya,” said Crooks. “He’s takin’ ‘em outa the nest and
handlin’ them. That won’t do them no good.”
“He won’t hurt ‘em,” said Slim. “I’ll come along with you now.”
George looked up. “If that crazy bastard’s foolin’ around too much, jus’ kick
him out, Slim.”
Slim followed the stable buck out of the room.
George dealt and Whit picked up his cards and examined them. “Seen the
new kid yet?” he asked.
“What kid?” George asked.
“Why, Curley’s new wife.”
“Yeah, I seen her.”
“Well, ain’t she a looloo?”
“I ain’t seen that much of her,” said George.
Whit laid down his cards impressively. “Well, stick around an’ keep your
eyes open. You’ll see plenty. She ain’t concealin’ nothing. I never seen nobody
like her. She got the eye goin’ all the time on everybody. I bet she even gives
the stable buck the eye. I don’t know what the hell she wants.”
George asked casually, “Been any trouble since she got here?”
It was obvious that Whit was not interested in his cards. He laid his hand
down and George scooped it in. George laid out his deliberate solitaire hand—
seven cards, and six on top, and five on top of those.
Whit said, “I see what you mean. No, they ain’t been nothing yet. Curley’s
got yella-jackets in his drawers, but that’s all so far. Ever’ time the guys is
around she shows up. She’s lookin’ for Curley, or she thought she lef’
somethin’ layin’ around and she’s lookin’ for it. Seems like she can’t keep away
from guys. An’ Curley’s pants is just crawlin’ with ants, but they ain’t nothing
come of it yet.”
George said, “She’s gonna make a mess. They’s gonna be a bad mess about
her. She’s a jail bait all set on the trigger. That Curley got his work cut out for
him. Ranch with a bunch of guys on it ain’t no place for a girl, specially like
her.” Whit said, “If you got idears, you oughtta come in town with us guys tomorra
night.”
“Why? What’s doin’?”
“Jus’ the usual thing. We go in to old Susy’s place. Hell of a nice place. Old
Susy’s a laugh—always crackin’ jokes. Like she says when we come up on the
front porch las’ Sat’day night. Susy opens the door and then she yells over her
shoulder, ‘Get yor coats on, girls, here comes the sheriff.’ She never talks dirty,
neither. Got five girls there.”
“What’s it set you back?” George asked.
“Two an’ a half. You can get a shot for two bits. Susy got nice chairs to set
in, too. If a guy don’t want a flop, why he can just set in the chairs and have a
couple or three shots and pass the time of day and Susy don’t give a damn. She
ain’t rushin’ guys through and kickin’ ‘em out if they don’t want a flop.”
“Might go in and look the joint over,” said George.
“Sure. Come along. It’s a hell of a lot of fun—her crackin’ jokes all the time.
Like she says one time, she says, ‘I’ve knew people that if they got a rag rug on
the floor an’ a kewpie doll lamp on the phonograph they think they’re running a
parlor house.’ That’s Clara’s house she’s talkin’ about. An’ Susy says, ‘I know
what you boys want,’ she says. ‘My girls is clean,’ she says, ‘an’ there ain’t no
water in my whisky,’ she says. ‘If any you guys wanta look at a kewpie doll
lamp an’ take your own chance gettin’ burned, why you know where to go.’ An’
she says, ‘There’s guys around here walkin’ bow-legged ‘cause they like to look
at a kewpie doll lamp.’”
George asked, “Clara runs the other house, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Whit. “We don’t never go there. Clara gets three bucks a crack
and thirty-five cents a shot, and she don’t crack no jokes. But Susy’s place is
clean and she got nice chairs. Don’t let no goo-goos in, neither.”
“Me an’ Lennie’s rollin’ up a stake,” said George. “I might go in an’ set and
have a shot, but I ain’t puttin’ out no two and a half.”
“Well, a guy got to have some fun sometime,” said Whit.
The door opened and Lennie and Carlson came in together. Lennie crept to
his bunk and sat down, trying not to attract attention. Carlson reached under his
bunk and brought out his bag. He didn’t look at old Candy, who still faced the
wall. Carlson found a little cleaning rod in the bag and a can of oil. He laid them
on his bed and then brought out the pistol, took out the magazine and snapped
the loaded shell from the chamber. Then he fell to cleaning the barrel with the
little rod. When the ejector snapped, Candy turned over and looked for a
moment at the gun before he turned back to the wall again.
Carlson said casually, “Curley been in yet?”
“No,” said Whit. “What’s eatin’ on Curley?”
Carlson squinted down the barrel of his gun. “Lookin’ for his old lady. I seen
him going round and round outside.”
Whit said sarcastically, “He spends half his time lookin’ for her, and the rest
of the time she’s lookin’ for him.”
Curley burst into the room excitedly. “Any you guys seen my wife?” he
demanded.
“She ain’t been here,” said Whit.
Curley looked threateningly about the room. “Where the hell’s Slim?”
“Went out in the barn,” said George. “He was gonna put some tar on a split
hoof.”
Curley’s shoulders dropped and squared. “How long ago’d he go?”
“Five—ten minutes.”
Curley jumped out the door and banged it after him.
Whit stood up. “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.”
George asked, “Did you see Slim out in the barn?”
“Sure I did. He tol’ me I better not pet that pup no more.”
“Did you see that girl?”
“You mean Curley’s girl?”
“Yeah. Did she come in the barn?”
“No. Anyways I never seen her.”
“You never seen Slim talkin’ to her?”
“Uh-uh. She ain’t been in the barn.”
“O.K.,” said George. “I guess them guys ain’t gonna see no fight. If there’s
any fightin’, Lennie, you keep out of it.”
“I don’t want no fights,” said Lennie. He got up from his bunk and sat down
at the table, across from George. Almost automatically George shuffled the
cards and laid out his solitaire hand. He used a deliberate, thoughtful slowness.
Lennie reached for a face card and studied it, then turned it upside down and
studied it. “Both ends the same,” he said. “George, why is it both ends the
same?”
“I don’t know,” said George. “That’s jus’ the way they make ‘em. What was
Slim doin’ in the barn when you seen him?”
“Slim?”
“Sure. You seen him in the barn, an’ he tol’ you not to pet the pups so
much.”
“Oh, yeah. He had a can a’ tar an’ a paint brush. I don’t know what for.”
“You sure that girl didn’t come in like she come in here today?”
“No. She never come.”
George sighed. “You give me a good whore house every time,” he said. “A
guy can go in an’ get drunk and get ever’thing outa his system all at once, an’
no messes. And he knows how much it’s gonna set him back. These here jail
baits is just set on the trigger of the hoosegow.”
Lennie followed his words admiringly, and moved his lips a little to keep up.
George continued, “You remember Andy Cushman, Lennie? Went to grammar
school?”
“The one that his old lady used to make hot cakes for the kids?” Lennie
asked.
“Yeah. That’s the one. You can remember anything if there’s anything to eat
in it.” George looked carefully at the solitaire hand. He put an ace up on his
scoring rack and piled a two, three and four of diamonds on it. “Andy’s in San
Quentin right now on account of a tart,” said George.
Lennie drummed on the table with his fingers. “George?”
“Huh?”
“George, how long’s it gonna be till we get that little place an’ live on the
fatta the lan’—an’ rabbits?”
“I don’t know”, said George. “We gotta get a big stake together. I know a
little place we can get cheap, but they ain’t givin’ it away.”
Old Candy turned slowly over. His eyes were wide open. He watched George
carefully.
Lennie said, “Tell about that place, George.”
“I jus’ tol’ you, jus’ las’ night.”
“Go on—tell again, George.”
“Well, it’s ten acres,” said George. “Got a little win’mill. Got a little shack
on it, an’ a chicken run. Got a kitchen, orchard, cherries, apples, peaches, ‘cots,
nuts, got a few berries. They’s a place for alfalfa and plenty water to flood it.
They’s a pig pen—”
“An’ rabbits, George.”
“No place for rabbits now, but I could easy build a few hutches and you
could feed alfalfa to the rabbits.”
“Damn right, I could,” said Lennie. “You God damn right I could.”
George’s hands stopped working with the cards. His voice was growing
warmer. “An’ we could have a few pigs. I could build a smoke house like the
one gran’pa had, an’ when we kill a pig we can smoke the bacon and the hams,
and make sausage an’ all like that. An’ when the salmon run up river we could
catch a hundred of ‘em an’ salt ‘em down or smoke ‘em. We could have them
for breakfast. They ain’t nothing so nice as smoked salmon. When the fruit
come in we could can it—and tomatoes, they’re easy to can. Ever’ Sunday we’d
kill a chicken or a rabbit. Maybe we’d have a cow or a goat, and the cream is so
God damn thick you got to cut it with a knife and take it out with a spoon.”
Lennie watched him with wide eyes, and old Candy watched him too. Lennie
said softly, “We could live offa the fatta the lan’.”
“Sure,” said George. “All kin’s a vegetables in the garden, and if we want a
little whisky we can sell a few eggs or something, or some milk. We’d jus’ live
there. We’d belong there. There wouldn’t be no more runnin’ round the country
and gettin’ fed by a Jap cook. No, sir, we’d have our own place where we
belonged and not sleep in no bunk house.”
“Tell about the house, George,” Lennie begged.
“Sure, we’d have a little house an’ a room to ourself. Little fat iron stove, an’
in the winter we’d keep a fire goin’ in it. It ain’t enough land so we’d have to
work too hard. Maybe six, seven hours a day. We wouldn’t have to buck no
barley eleven hours a day. An’ when we put in a crop, why, we’d be there to
take the crop up. We’d know what come of our planting.”
“An’ rabbits,” Lennie said eagerly. “An’ I’d take care of ‘em. Tell how I’d do
that, George.”
“Sure, you’d go out in the alfalfa patch an’ you’d have a sack. You’d fill up
the sack and bring it in an’ put it in the rabbit cages.”
“They’d nibble an’ they’d nibble,” said Lennie, “the way they do. I seen
‘em.”
“Ever’ six weeks or so,” George continued, “them does would throw a litter
so we’d have plenty rabbits to eat an’ to sell. An’ we’d keep a few pigeons to go
flyin’ around the win’mill like they done when I was a kid.” He looked raptly at
the wall over Lennie’s head. “An’ it’d be our own, an’ nobody could can us. If
we don’t like a guy we can say, ‘Get the hell out,’ and by God he’s got to do it.
An’ if a fren’ come along, why we’d have an extra bunk, an’ we’d say, ‘Why
don’t you spen’ the night?’ an’ by God he would. We’d have a setter dog and a
couple stripe cats, but you gotta watch out them cats don’t get the little rabbits.”
Lennie breathed hard. “You jus’ let ‘em try to get the rabbits. I’ll break their
God damn necks. I’ll . . . . I’ll smash ‘em with a stick.” He subsided, grumbling
to himself, threatening the future cats which might dare to disturb the future
rabbits.
George sat entranced with his own picture.
When Candy spoke they both jumped as though they had been caught doing
something reprehensible. Candy said, “You know where’s a place like that?”
George was on guard immediately. “S’pose I do,” he said. “What’s that to
you?”
“You don’t need to tell me where it’s at. Might be any place.”
“Sure,” said George. “That’s right. You couldn’t find it in a hundred years.”
Candy went on excitedly, “How much they want for a place like that?”
George watched him suspiciously. “Well—I could get it for six hundred
bucks. The ol’ people that owns it is flat bust an’ the ol’ lady needs an
operation. Say—what’s it to you? You got nothing to do with us.”
Candy said, “I ain’t much good with on’y one hand. I lost my hand right here
on this ranch. That’s why they give me a job swampin’. An’ they give me two
hunderd an’ fifty dollars ‘cause I los’ my hand. An’ I got fifty more saved up
right in the bank, right now. Tha’s three hunderd, and I got fifty more comin’
the end a the month. Tell you what—” He leaned forward eagerly. “S’pose I
went in with you guys. Tha’s three hunderd an’ fifty bucks I’d put in. I ain’t
much good, but I could cook and tend the chickens and hoe the garden some.
How’d that be?”
George half-closed his eyes. “I gotta think about that. We was always gonna
do it by ourselves.”
Candy interrupted him, “I’d make a will an’ leave my share to you guys in
case I kick off, ‘cause I ain’t got no relatives nor nothing. You guys got any
money? Maybe we could do her right now?”
George spat on the floor disgustedly. “We got ten bucks between us.” Then
he said thoughtfully, “Look, if me an’ Lennie work a month an’ don’t spen’
nothing, we’ll have a hunderd bucks. That’d be four fifty. I bet we could swing
her for that. Then you an’ Lennie could go get her started an’ I’d get a job an’
make up the res’, an’ you could sell eggs an’ stuff like that.”
They fell into a silence. They looked at one another, amazed. This thing they
had never really believed in was coming true. George said reverently, “Jesus
Christ! I bet we could swing her.” His eyes were full of wonder. “I bet we could
swing her,” he repeated softly.
Candy sat on the edge of his bunk. He scratched the stump of his wrist
nervously. “I got hurt four year ago,” he said. “They’ll can me purty soon. Jus’
as soon as I can’t swamp out no bunk houses they’ll put me on the county.
Maybe if I give you guys my money, you’ll let me hoe in the garden even after I
ain’t no good at it. An’ I’ll wash dishes an’ little chicken stuff like that. But I’ll
be on our own place, an’ I’ll be let to work on our own place.” He said
miserably, “You seen what they done to my dog tonight? They says he wasn’t
no good to himself nor nobody else. When they can me here I wisht somebody’d
shoot me. But they won’t do nothing like that. I won’t have no place to go, an’ I
can’t get no more jobs. I’ll have thirty dollars more comin’, time you guys is
ready to quit.”
George stood up. “We’ll do her,” he said. “We’ll fix up that little old place
an’ we’ll go live there.” He sat down again. They all sat still, all bemused by the
beauty of the thing, each mind was popped into the future when this lovely thing
should come about.
George said wonderingly, “S’pose they was a carnival or a circus come to
town, or a ball game, or any damn thing.” Old Candy nodded in appreciation of
the idea. “We’d just go to her,” George said. “We wouldn’t ask nobody if we
could. Jus’ say, ‘We’ll go to her,’ an’ we would. Jus’ milk the cow and sling
some grain to the chickens an’ go to her.”
“An’ put some grass to the rabbits,” Lennie broke in. “I wouldn’t never
forget to feed them. When we gon’ta do it, George?”
“In one month. Right squack in one month. Know what I’m gon’ta do? I’m
gon’ta write to them old people that owns the place that we’ll take it. An’
Candy’ll send a hunderd dollars to bind her.”
“Sure will,” said Candy. “They got a good stove there?”
“Sure, got a nice stove, burns coal or wood.”
“I’m gonna take my pup,” said Lennie. “I bet by Christ he likes it there, by
Jesus.”
Voices were approaching from outside. George said quickly, “Don’t tell
nobody about it. Jus’ us three an’ nobody else. They li’ble to can us so we can’t
make no stake. Jus’ go on like we was gonna buck barley the rest of our lives,
then all of a sudden some day we’ll go get our pay an’ scram outa here.”
Lennie and Candy nodded, and they were grinning with delight. “Don’t tell
nobody,” Lennie said to himself.
Candy said, “George.”
“Huh?”
“I ought to of shot that dog myself, George. I shouldn’t ought to of let no
stranger shoot my dog.”
The door opened. Slim came in, followed by Curley and Carlson and Whit.
Slim’s hands were black with tar and he was scowling. Curley hung close to his
elbow.
Curley said, “Well, I didn’t mean nothing, Slim. I just ast you.”
Slim said, “Well, you been askin’ me too often. I’m gettin’ God damn sick of
it. If you can’t look after your own God damn wife, what you expect me to do
about it? You lay offa me.”
“I’m jus’ tryin’ to tell you I didn’t mean nothing,” said Curley. “I jus’
thought you might of saw her.”
“Why’n’t you tell her to stay the hell home where she belongs?” said
Carlson. “You let her hang around bunk houses and pretty soon you’re gonna
have som’pin on your hands and you won’t be able to do nothing about it.”
Curley whirled on Carlson. “You keep outa this les’ you wanta step outside.”
Carlson laughed. “You God damn punk,” he said. “You tried to throw a scare
into Slim, an’ you couldn’t make it stick. Slim throwed a scare into you. You’re
yella as a frog belly. I don’t care if you’re the best welter in the country. You
come for me, an’ I’ll kick your God damn head off.”
Candy joined the attack with joy. “Glove fulla vaseline,” he said disgustedly.
Curley glared at him. His eyes slipped on past and lighted on Lennie; and
Lennie was still smiling with delight at the memory of the ranch.
Curley stepped over to Lennie like a terrier. “What the hell you laughin’ at?”
Lennie looked blankly at him. “Huh?”
Then Curley’s rage exploded. “Come on, ya big bastard. Get up on your feet.
No big son-of-a-***** is gonna laugh at me. I’ll show ya who’s yella.”
Lennie looked helplessly at George, and then he got up and tried to retreat.
Curley was balanced and poised. He slashed at Lennie with his left, and then
smashed down his nose with a right. Lennie gave a cry of terror. Blood welled
from his nose. “George,” he cried. “Make ‘um let me alone, George.” He
backed until he was against the wall, and Curley followed, slugging him in the
face. Lennie’s hands remained at his sides; he was too frightened to defend
himself.
George was on his feet yelling, “Get him, Lennie. Don’t let him do it.”
Lennie covered his face with his huge paws and bleated with terror. He cried,
“Make ‘um stop, George.” Then Curley attacked his stomach and cut off his
wind.
Slim jumped up. “The dirty little rat,” he cried, “I’ll get ‘um myself.”
George put out his hand and grabbed Slim. “Wait a minute,” he shouted. He
cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Get ‘im, Lennie!”
Lennie took his hands away from his face and looked about for George, and
Curley slashed at his eyes. The big face was covered with blood. George yelled
again, “I said get him.”
Curley’s fist was swinging when Lennie reached for it. The next minute
Curley was flopping like a fish on a line, and his closed fist was lost in Lennie’s
big hand. George ran down the room. “Leggo of him, Lennie. Let go.”
But Lennie watched in terror the flopping little man whom he held. Blood
ran down Lennie’s face, one of his eyes was cut and closed. George slapped him
in the face again and again, and still Lennie held on to the closed fist. Curley
was white and shrunken by now, and his struggling had become weak. He stood
crying, his fist lost in Lennie’s paw.
George shouted over and over. “Leggo his hand, Lennie. Leggo. Slim, come
help me while the guy got any hand left.”
Suddenly Lennie let go his hold. He crouched cowering against the wall.
“You tol’ me to, George,” he said miserably.
Curley sat down on the floor, looking in wonder at his crushed hand. Slim
and Carlson bent over him. Then Slim straightened up and regarded Lennie with
horror. “We got to get him in to a doctor,” he said. “Looks to me like ever’ bone
in his han’ is bust.”
“I didn’t wanta,” Lennie cried. “I didn’t wanta hurt him.”
Slim said, “Carlson, you get the candy wagon hitched up. We’ll take ‘um
into Soledad an’ get ‘um fixed up.” Carlson hurried out. Slim turned to the
whimpering Lennie. “It ain’t your fault,” he said. “This punk sure had it comin’
to him. But—Jesus! He ain’t hardly got no han’ left.” Slim hurried out, and in a
moment returned with a tin cup of water. He held it to Curley’s lips.
George said, “Slim, will we get canned now? We need the stake. Will
Curley’s old man can us now?”
Slim smiled wryly. He knelt down beside Curley. “You got your senses in
hand enough to listen?” he asked. Curley nodded. “Well, then listen,” Slim went
on. “I think you got your han’ caught in a machine. If you don’t tell nobody
what happened, we ain’t going to. But you jus’ tell an’ try to get this guy canned
and we’ll tell ever’body, an’ then will you get the laugh.”
“I won’t tell,” said Curley. He avoided looking at Lennie.
Buggy wheels sounded outside. Slim helped Curley up. “Come on now.
Carlson’s gonna take you to a doctor.” He helped Curley out the door. The
sound of wheels drew away. In a moment Slim came back into the bunk house.
He looked at Lennie, still crouched fearfully against the wall. “Le’s see your
hands,” he asked.
Lennie stuck out his hands.
“Christ awmighty, I hate to have you mad at me,” Slim said.
George broke in, “Lennie was jus’ scairt,” he explained. “He didn’t know
what to do. I told you nobody ought never to fight him. No, I guess it was Candy
I told.”
Candy nodded solemnly. “That’s jus’ what you done,” he said. “Right this
morning when Curley first lit intil your fren’, you says, ‘He better not fool with
Lennie if he knows what’s good for ‘um.’ That’s jus’ what you says to me.”
George turned to Lennie. “It ain’t your fault,” he said. “You don’t need to be
scairt no more. You done jus’ what I tol’ you to. Maybe you better go in the
wash room an’ clean up your face. You look like hell.”
Lennie smiled with his bruised mouth. “I didn’t want no trouble,” he said. He
walked toward the door, but just before he came to it, he turned back.
“George?”
“What you want?”
“I can still tend the rabbits, George?”
“Sure. You ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“I di’n’t mean no harm, George.”
“Well, get the hell out and wash your face.”

Answer 2

1

Answer 3

If you are studying English I can only suggest you pick up a dictionary, or a book on grammar, and learn how to write properly.
I get a sinking feeling in my stomach that we are turning into a nation of illiterates and if you are at University and coming up with the garbage syntax in your question, then I can only weep for the future and hope that one day people will stop reading Dan Brown novels, stop thinking lyrics to The Sugababes are 'meaningful', and stop this crazy fad for replacing words with numbers and completely ignoring capital letters and apostrophes.
If the government really wants to get 50% of school leavers into higher education with the proviso that our students will rank among the 'best in the world' then they are going to have a tough time when illiteracy, such as your own, is so prevalent.
Another thing - if you need the chapter so badly for tomorrow, or should I say 2moz?, then why in the name of sanity have you not thought ahead and realised there was a problem looming?
The world does not owe you a living.
Get off your backside, do some work, research your topics, and don't come crying to me when it all goes 'pear shaped' for you.
One more thing - ever thought of visiting a library or a bookshop?

Answer 4

You can get the latest version of Winrar here: http://bit.ly/1o0M15D

I like Winrar because it's a very good program to compress/decompress files in many different formats. You could also use other programs like 7zip or winzip for the same purpose but I think Winrar is the best option avalable. The funcionalities are pretty much the same for each program (you basically do everything with a simple right-click of your mouse) but Winrar is by far the best option.

The things I like about winrar is that it opens a bunch of compressed formats: .zip, .rar, .7z / 7zip, .iso, .tar, .jar etc. (much more than the other programs) and that it's 100% (trial period never expired so you can use it for free with no limitations)

These are the reasons why I recommend Winrar.

Answer 5

Of Mice And Men Etext

Answer 6

You don’t need to exercise for hours on end. Short, sharp sets of exercise will produce better results should you work hard. Get a omitting rope, skip for two units, do push ups for 60 seconds or so, skip for two minutes, rest for just one minute. Then change the push nearly something else like sit ups and do the set again. Repeat it five times and it’s a quick, effective workout that will recover results than a long function or swim.

Answer 7

You don’t need to exercise for long periods of time. Short, sharp sets of exercise will produce better results in case you work hard. Get a skipping rope, skip for two a few minutes, do push ups for about a minute, skip for two minutes, rest for example minute. Then change the push up to something else like sit ups and also do the set again. Repeat it five times and it’s a fast, effective workout that will get better results than a long work or swim.

Answer 8

Hi, project gutenberg might be a good place to look, theyve got free online texts if you are just looking for a quick and easy way to find the text. Also if you type in 'etext of mice and men' or something along those lines you'll probably find it,good luck!

Answer 9

There were so many woodworking plans with this collection and you will not believe this but there are over thousands plans in the one package deal. Go here https://tr.im/wbDX7
This is really something to find that many all together. For someone like me who is just really starting to get involved with woodworking this was like letting me loose in a candy store and telling me I could have anything I wanted. That was my dream when I was a kid.

Answer 10

Television set is produced to the lowest common denominator - i.e., the common IQ of everyone, whereas a reserve is written to the highest common denominator

Answer 11

If perhaps it's a fruit they have seeds, otherwise it's a vegetable. And vegetables are usually grown in the ground while fruits are grown in trees.