ACT THREE: SCENE I

One end of a great barn. Backstage the hay slopes up sharply against the wall. High in the upstage wall is a large hay window. On each side are seen the hay racks, behind which are the stalls with the horses in them. Throughout this scene the horses can be heard in their stalls, rattling their halter chains and chewing at the hay.

The entrance is downstage right.

The boards of the barn are not close together. Streaks of afternoon sun come between the boards, made visible by dust in the air. From outside comes the clang of horseshoes on the playing peg, shouts of men encouraging or jeering.

In the barn there is a feeling of quiet and humming and lazy warmth. Curtain rises on LENNIE sitting in the hay, looking down at a little dead puppy in front of him. He puts out his big hand and strokes it clear from one end to the other.

LENNIE [softly]: Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice. I didn’ bounce you hard. [Bends the pup’s head up and looks in its face.] Now maybe George ain’t gonna let me tend no rabbits if he finds out you got killed. [He scoops a little hollow and lays the puppy in it out of sight and covers it over with hay. He stares at the mound he has made.] This ain’t no bad thing like I got to hide in the brush. I’ll tell George I found it dead. [He unburies the pup and inspects it. Twists its ears and works his fingers in its fur. Sorrowfully.] But he’ll know. George always knows. He’ll say: “You done it. Don’t try to put nothin’ over on me.” And he’ll say: “Now just for that you don’t get to tend no—you-know-whats.” [His anger rises. Addresses the pup.] God damn you. Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice. [Picks up the pup and hurls it from him and turns his back on it. He sits bent over his knees moaning to himself.] Now he won’t let me. . . . Now he won’t let me. [Outside there is a clang of horseshoes on the iron stake and a little chorus of cries. LENNIE gets up and brings the pup back and lays it in the hay and sits down. He mourns.] You wasn’t big enough. They tole me and tole me you wasn’t. I didn’t know you’d get killed so easy. Maybe George won’t care. This here goddamn little son-of-a-bitch wasn’t nothin’ to George.

CANDY [voice from behind the stalls]: Lennie, where you at? [LENNIE frantically buries the pup under the hay. CANDY enters excitedly.] Thought I’d find ya here. Say . . . I been talkin’ to Slim. It’s okay. We ain’t gonna get the can. Slim been talkin’ to the boss. Slim tol’ the boss you guys is good buckers. The boss got to move that grain. ’Member what hell the boss give us las’ night? He tol’ Slim he got his eye on you an’ George. But you ain’t gonna get the can. Oh! an’ say. The boss give Curley’s wife hell, too. Tole her never to go near the men no more. Give her worse hell than you an’ George. [For the first time notices LENNIE’S dejection.] Ain’t you glad?

LENNIE: Sure.

CANDY: You ain’t sick?

LENNIE: Uh-uh!

CANDY: I got to go tell George. See you later. [Exits.]

LENNIE, alone, uncovers the pup. Lies down in the hay and sinks deep in it. Puts the pup on his arm and strokes it. CURLEY’S WIFE enters secretly. A little mound of hay conceals LENNIE from her. In her hand she carries a small suitcase, very cheap. She crosses the barn and buries the case in the hay. Stands up and looks to see whether it can be seen. LENNIE watching her quietly tries to cover the pup with hay. She sees the movement.

CURLEY’S WIFE: What—what you doin’ here?

LENNIE [sullenly]: Jus’ settin’ here.

CURLEY’S WIFE: You seen what I done.

LENNIE: Yeah! You brang a valise.

CURLEY’S WIFE [comes near to him]: You won’t tell—will you?

LENNIE [still sullen]: I ain’t gonna have nothing to do with you. George tole me. I ain’t to talk to you or nothing. [Covers the pup a little more.]

CURLEY’S WIFE: George give you all your orders?

LENNIE: Not talk nor nothing.

CURLEY’S WIFE: You won’t tell about that suitcase? I ain’t gonna stay here no more. Tonight I’m gonna get out. Come here an’ get my stuff an’ get out. I ain’t gonna be run over no more. I’m gonna go in pitchers. [Sees LENNIE’S hand stroking the pup under the hay.] What you got there?

LENNIE: Nuthing. I ain’t gonna talk to you. George says I ain’t.

CURLEY’S WIFE: Listen: The guys got a horseshoe tenement out there. It’s on’y four o’clock. Them guys ain’t gonna leave that tenement. They got money bet. You don’t need to be scared to talk to me.

LENNIE [weakening a little]: I ain’t supposed to.

CURLEY’S WIFE [watching his buried hand]: What you got under there?

LENNIE [his woe comes back to him]: Jus’ my pup. Jus’ my little ol’ pup. [Sweeps the hay aside.]

CURLEY’S WIFE: Why! He’s dead.

LENNIE [explaining sadly]: He was so little. I was jus’ playin’ with him—an’ he made like he’s gonna bite me—an’ I made like I’m gonna smack him—an’—I done it. An’ then he was dead.

CURLEY’S WIFE [consolingly]: Don’t you worry none. He was just a mutt. The whole country is full of mutts.

LENNIE: It ain’t that so much. George gonna be mad. Maybe he won’t let me—what he said I could tend.

CURLEY’S WIFE [sits down in the hay beside him, speaks soothingly]: Don’t you worry. Them guys got money bet on that horseshoe tenement. They ain’t gonna leave it. And tomorra I’ll be gone. I ain’t gonna let them run over me.

In the following scene it is apparent that neither is listening to the other and yet as it goes on, as a happy tone increases, it can be seen that they are growing closer together.

LENNIE: We gonna have a little place an’ raspberry bushes.

CURLEY’S WIFE: I ain’t meant to live like this. I come from Salinas. Well, a show come through an’ I talked to a guy that was in it. He says I could go with the show. My ol’ lady wouldn’ let me, ’cause I was on’y fifteen. I wouldn’t be no place like this if I had went with that show, you bet.

LENNIE: Gonna take a sack an’ fill it up with alfalfa an’—

CURLEY’S WIFE [hurrying on]: ’Nother time I met a guy an’ he was in pitchers. Went out to the Riverside Dance Palace with him. He said he was gonna put me in pitchers. Says I was a natural. Soon’s he got back to Hollywood he was gonna write me about it. [Looks impressively at LENNIE.] I never got that letter. I think my ol’ lady stole it. Well, I wasn’t gonna stay no place where they stole your letters. So I married Curley. Met him out to the Riverside Dance Palace too.

LENNIE: I hope George ain’t gonna be mad about this pup.

CURLEY’S WIFE: I ain’t tol’ this to nobody before. Maybe I oughtn’ to. I don’t like Curley. He ain’t a nice fella. I might a stayed with him but last night him an’ his ol’ man both lit into me. I don’t have to stay here. [Moves closer and speaks confidentially.] Don’t tell nobody till I get clear away. I’ll go in the night an’ thumb a ride to Hollywood.

LENNIE: We gonna get out a here purty soon. This ain’t no nice place.

CURLEY’S WIFE [ecstatically]: Gonna get in the movies an’ have nice clothes—all them nice clothes like they wear. An’ I’ll set in them big hotels and they’ll take pitchers of me. When they have them openings I’ll go an’ talk in the radio . . . an’ it won’t cost me nothing ’cause I’m in the pitcher. [Puts her hand on LENNIE’S arm for a moment.] All them nice clothes like they wear . . . because this guy says I’m a natural.

LENNIE: We gonna go way . . . far away from here.

CURLEY’S WIFE: ’Course, when I run away from Curley, my ol’ lady won’t never speak to me no more. She’ll think I ain’t decent. That’s what she’ll say. [Defiantly.] Well, we really ain’t decent, no matter how much my ol’ lady tries to hide it, My ol’ man was a drunk. They put him away. There! Now I told.

LENNIE: George an’ me was to the Sacramento Fair. One time I fell in the river an’ George pulled me out an’ saved me, an’ then we went to the Fair. They got all kinds of stuff there. We seen long-hair rabbits.

CURLEY’S WIFE: My ol’ man was a sign-painter when he worked. He used to get drunk an’ paint crazy pitchers an’ waste paint. One night when I was a little kid, him an’ my ol’ lady had an awful fight. They was always fightin’. In the middle of the night he come into my room, and he says, “I can’t stand this no more. Let’s you an’ me go away.” I guess he was drunk. [Her voice takes on a curious wondering tenderness. ] I remember in the night—walkin’ down the road, and the trees was black. I was pretty sleepy. He picked me up, an’ he carried me on his back. He says, “We gonna live together. We gonna live together because you’re my own little girl, an’ not no stranger. No arguin’ and fightin’,” he says, “because you’re my little daughter.” [Her voice becomes soft.] He says, “Why you’ll bake little cakes for me, an’ I’ll paint pretty pitchers all over the wall.” [Sadly.] In the morning they caught us . . . an’ they put him away. [Pause.] I wish we’d a’ went.

LENNIE: Maybe if I took this here pup an’ throwed him away George wouldn’t never know.

CURLEY’S WIFE: They locked him up for a drunk, and in a little while he died.

LENNIE: Then maybe I could tend the rabbits without no trouble.

CURLEY’S WIFE: Don’t you think of nothing but rabbits? [Sound of horseshoe on metal.] Somebody made a ringer.

LENNIE [patiently]: We gonna have a house and a garden, an’ a place for alfalfa. And I take a sack and get it all full of alfalfa, and then I take it to the rabbits.

CURLEY’S WIFE: What makes you so nuts about rabbits?

LENNIE [moves close to her]: I like to pet nice things. Once at a fair I seen some of them long-hair rabbits. And they was nice, you bet. [Despairingly.] I’d even pet mice, but not when I could get nothin’ better.

CURLEY’S WIFE [giggles]: I think you’re nuts.

LENNIE [earnestly]: No, I ain’t. George says I ain’t. I like to pet nice things with my fingers. Soft things.

CURLEY’S WIFE: Well, who don’t? Everybody likes that. I like to feel silk and velvet. You like to feel velvet?

LENNIE [chuckling with pleasure]: You bet, by God. And I had some too. A lady give me some. And that lady was—my Aunt Clara. She give it right to me. . . . [Measuring with his hands.] ’Bout this big a piece. I wisht I had that velvet right now. [He frowns.] I lost it. I ain’t seen it for a long time.

CURLEY’S WIFE [laughing]: You’re nuts. But you’re a kinda nice fella. Jus’ like a big baby. A person can see kinda what you mean. When I’m doin’ my hair sometimes I jus’ set there and stroke it, because it’s so soft. [Runs her fingers over the top of her head.] Some people got kinda coarse hair. You take Curley, his hair’s just like wire. But mine is soft and fine. Here, feel. Right here. [Takes LENNIE’S hand and puts it on her head.] Feel there and see how soft it is. [LENNIE’S fingers fall to stroking her hair.] Don’t you muss it up.

LENNIE: Oh, that’s nice. [Strokes harder.] Oh, that’s nice.

CURLEY’S WIFE: Look out now, you’ll muss it. [Angrily.] You stop it now, you’ll mess it all up. [She jerks her head sideways and Lennie’s fingers close on her hair and hang on. In a panic.] Let go. [She screams.] You let go. [She screams again. His other hand closes over her mouth and nose.]

LENNIE [begging]: Oh, please don’t do that. George’ll be mad. [She struggles violently to be free. A soft screaming comes from under LENNIE’S hand. Crying with fright.] Oh, please don’t do none of that. George gonna say I done a bad thing. [He raises his hand from her mouth and a hoarse cry escapes. Angrily.] Now don’t. I don’t want you to yell. You gonna get me in trouble just like George says you will. Now don’t you do that. [She struggles more.] Don’t you go yellin’. [He shakes her violently. Her neck snaps sideways and she lies still. Looks down at her and cautiously removes his hand from over her mouth.] I don’t wanta hurt you. But George will be mad if you yell. [When she doesn’t answer he bends closely over her. He lifts her arm and lets it drop. For a moment he seems bewildered.] I done a bad thing. I done another bad thing. [He paws up the hay until it partly covers her. The sound of the horseshoe game comes from the outside. And for the first time LENNIE seems conscious of it. He crouches down and listens.] Oh, I done a real bad thing. I shouldn’t a did that. George will be mad. And . . . he said . . . and hide in the brush till he comes. . . . He’s gonna be mad . . . in the brush till he comes. That’s what he said. [He picks up the puppy from beside the girl.] I’ll throw him away. It’s bad enough like it is.

He puts the pup under his coat, creeps to the barn wall and peers out between the cracks and then he creeps around to the end of the manger and disappears. The stage is vacant except for CURLEY’S WIFE. She lies in the hay half covered up and she looks very young and peaceful. Her rouged cheeks and red lips make her seem alive and sleeping lightly. For a moment the stage is absolutely silent. Then the horses stamp on the other side of the feeding rack. The halter chains clink and from outside men’s voices come loud and clear.

CANDY [offstage]: Lennie! Oh, Lennie, you in there? [He enters.] I been figurin’ some more, Lennie. Tell you what we can do. [Sees CURLEY’S WIFE and stops. Rubs his white whiskers.] I didn’t know you was here. You was tol’ not to be here. [He steps near her.] You oughtn’t to sleep out here. [He is right beside her and looks down.] Oh, Jesus Christ! [Goes to the door and calls softly.] George, George! Come here . . . George!

GEORGE [enters]: What do you want?

CANDY [points at CURLEY’S WIFE]: Look.

GEORGE: What’s the matter with her? [Steps up beside her.] Oh, Jesus Christ!

Kneels beside her and feels her heart and her wrist. Finally stands up slowly and stiffly. From this time on through the rest of the scene GEORGE is wooden.

CANDY: What done it?

GEORGE [coldly]: Ain’t you got any idea? [CANDY looks away.] I should of knew. I guess way back in my head I did.

CANDY: What we gonna do now, George? What we gonna do now?

GEORGE [answering slowly and dully]: Guess . . . we gotta . . . tell . . . the guys. Guess we got to catch him and lock him up. We can’t let him get away. Why, the poor bastard would starve. [He tries to reassure himself.] Maybe they’ll lock him up and be nice to him.

CANDY [excitedly]: You know better’n that, George. You know Curley’s gonna want to get him lynched. You know how Curley is.

GEORGE: Yeah. . . . Yeah . . . that’s right. I know Curley. And the other guys too. [He looks back at CURLEY’S WIFE.]

CANDY [pleadingly]: You and me can get that little place can’t we, George? You and me can go there and live nice, can’t we? Can’t we? [CANDY drops his head and looks down at the hay to indicate that he knows.]

GEORGE [shakes his head slowly]: It was somethin’ me and him had. [Softly.] I think I knowed it from the very first. I think I knowed we’d never do her. He used to like to hear about it so much. I got fooled to thinkin’ maybe we would. [CANDY starts to speak but doesn’t.]

GEORGE [as though repeating a lesson]: I’ll work my month and then I’ll take my fifty bucks. I’ll stay all night in some lousy cat-house or I’ll set in a pool room until everybody goes home. An’ then—I’ll come back an’ work another month. And then I’ll have fifty bucks more.

CANDY: He’s such a nice fellow. I didn’t think he’d a done nothing like this.

GEORGE [gets a grip on himself and straightens his shoulders ]: Now listen. We gotta tell the guys. I guess they’ve gotta bring him in. They ain’t no way out. Maybe they won’t hurt him. I ain’t gonna let ’em hurt Lennie. [Sharply.] Now you listen. The guys might think I was in on it. I’m gonna go in the bunkhouse. Then in a minute you come out and yell like you just seen her. Will you do that? So the guys won’t think I was in on it?

CANDY: Sure, George. Sure, I’ll do that.

GEORGE: Okay. Give me a couple of minutes then. And then you yell your head off. I’m goin’ now. [GEORGE exits.]

CANDY [watches him go, looks helplessly back at CURLEY’S WIFE; his next words are in sorrow and in anger]: You goddamn tramp. You done it, didn’t you? Everybody knowed you’d mess things up. You just wasn’t no good. [His voice shakes.] I could of hoed in the garden and washed dishes for them guys. . . . [Pauses for a moment and then goes into a sing-song repeating the old words.] If there was a circus or a baseball game . . . we would o’ went to her . . . just said to hell with work and went to her. And they’d been a pig and chickens . . . and in the winter a little fat stove. An’ us jus’ settin’ there . . . settin’ there. . . . [His eyes blind with tears and he goes weakly to the entrance of the barn. Tries for a moment to break a shout out of his throat before he succeeds.] Hey, you guys! Come here! Come here!

Outside the noise of the horseshoe game stops. The sound of discussion and then the voices come closer: “What’s the matter?” . . . “Who’s that?” . . . “It’s Candy.” . . . “Something must have happened.” Enter SLIM and CARLSON , Young WHIT and CURLEY, CROOKS in the back, keeping out of attention range. And last of all GEORGE. GEORGE has put on his blue denim coat and buttoned it. His black hat is pulled down low over his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” . . . “What’s happened?”

A gesture from CANDY.

The men stare at CURLEY’S WIFE. SLIM goes over to her, feels her wrist and touches her cheek with his fingers. His hand goes under her slightly twisted neck.

CURLEY comes near. For a moment he seems shocked. Looks around helplessly and suddenly he comes to life.

CURLEY: I know who done it. That big son-of-a-bitch done it. I know he done it. Why, everybody else was out there playing horseshoes. [Working himself into a fury.] I’m gonna get him. I’m gonna get my shotgun. Why, I’ll kill the big son-of-a-bitch myself. I’ll shoot him in the guts. Come on, you guys. [He runs out of the barn.] CARLSON: I’ll go get my Luger. [He runs out too.]

SLIM [quietly to GEORGE]: I guess Lennie done it all right. Her neck’s busted. Lennie could o’ did that. [GEORGE nods slowly. Half-questioning.] Maybe like that time in Weed you was tellin’ me about. [GEORGE nods. Gently.] Well. I guess we got to get him. Where you think he might o’ went?

GEORGE [struggling to get words out]: I don’t know.

SLIM: I guess we gotta get him.

GEORGE [stepping close and speaking passionately]: Couldn’t we maybe bring him in and lock him up? He’s nuts, Slim, he never done this to be mean.

SLIM: If we could only keep Curley in. But Curley wants to shoot him. [He thinks.] And s’pose they lock him up, George, and strap him down and put him in a cage, that ain’t no good.

GEORGE: I know. I know.

SLIM: I think there’s only one way to get him out of it.

GEORGE: I know.

CARLSON [enters running]: The bastard stole my Luger. It ain’t in my bag.

CURLEY [enters carrying a shotgun in his good hand. Officiously ]: All right, you guys. The nigger’s got a shotgun. You take it, Carlson.

WHIT: Only cover around here is down by the river. He might have went there.

CURLEY: Don’t give him no chance. Shoot for his guts, that’ll double him over.

WHIT: I ain’t got a gun.

CURLEY: Go in and tell my old man. Get a gun from him. Let’s go now. [Turns suspiciously on GEORGE.] You’re comin’ with us, fella!

GEORGE: Yeah. I’ll come. But listen, Curley, the poor bastard’s nuts. Don’t shoot him, he didn’t know what he was doin’.

CURLEY: Don’t shoot him! He’s got Carlson’s Luger, ain’t he?

GEORGE [weakly]: Maybe Carlson lost his gun.

CARLSON: I seen it this morning. It’s been took.

SLIM [looking down at CURLEY’S WIFE]: Curley, maybe you better stay here with your wife. [The light is fading into evening. CURLEY hesitates. Seems almost to weaken, then he hardens again.]

CURLEY: Naw, I’m gonna shoot the guts out of that big bastard, I’m gonna get him myself. Come on, you guys.

SLIM [to CANDY]: You stay here then, Candy. The rest of us better get goin’. [They walk out, SLIM and GEORGE last. Exeunt all but CANDY. He squats in the hay, watching the face of CURLEY’S WIFE.]

CANDY: Poor bastard.

CURTAIN

ACT THREE: SCENE II

Evening.

The river bank again.

Light from the setting sun shines on the low brown hills. Among the trees by the river, the shade is deep with evening feeling.

Sounds: distant barking of dogs and the quiet call of quail.

The curtain rises on an empty stage.

There is a sudden whistle of evening wind that stirs the trees and scuds the leaves on the ground.

The stage is still again. LENNIE enters as silently as a bear. He is bent over and wary. On stage he looks behind him. Then he takes from under his coat the dead pup, lays it on the ground and, going to the river, lies on his stomach and drinks.

He returns to the dead pup, sits down beside it.

LENNIE: George gonna give me hell . . . I bet. I . . . won’t tell him. I’ll bury him. [Begins to scoop a hole in the sand in front of him. Softly.] But I didn’t forget, you bet. I come right here. Hide in the brush an’ wait for George. [Works carefully at his little grave, shaping the hole. At last he picks up the pup and lays it in the hole. Mourning. ] He gonna give me hell. He gonna wish he was alone. [Adjusts the puppy in the hole, turning it around to make it fit better. Defiantly.] Well . . . I can go right up in the hills an’ find a cave. ’Course I wouldn’t never have no ketchup. [Begins packing sand down carefully about the pup, patting it as he does in beat with his words.] I’ll—go—away—go—away. [Every word a pat. Fills the grave carefully, smooths the sand over it.] There now. [Gathers leaves and scatters them over the place. Gets up on his knees and cocks his head to inspect the job.] Now. I won’t never tell George. [Sinks back to a sitting position.] He’ll know. He always knows.

Far off sound of voices approaching. They come closer during the scene. Suddenly there is the clicking warning of a cock-quail and then the drum of the flock’s wings. GEORGE enters silently, but hurriedly.

GEORGE [in a hoarse whisper]: Get in the tules—quick. LENNIE: I ain’t done nothing, George. [The voices are very close.]

GEORGE [frantically]: Get in the tules—damn you. [Voices are nearly there. GEORGE half pushes LENNIE down among the tules. The tops rustle showing his crawling progress.]

WHIT [offstage]: There’s George. [Enters.] Better not get so far ahead. You ain’t got a gun. [Enter SLIM, CARLSON , BOSS, CURLEY,and three other ranch hands. They are armed with shotguns and rifles.]

CARLSON: He musta come this way. Them prints in the sand was aimed this way.

SLIM [has been regarding GEORGE]: Now look. We ain’t gonna find him stickin’ in a bunch this way. We got to spread out.

CURLEY: Brush is pretty thick here. He might be lying in the brush. [Steps toward the tules. GEORGE moves quickly after him.]

SLIM [Seeing the move speaks quickly]: Look—[pointing]— up there’s the county road an’ open fields an’ over there’s the highway. Le’s spread out an’ cover the brush.

BOSS: Slim’s right. We got to spread.

SLIM:We better drag up to the roads an’ then drag back.

CURLEY: ’Member what I said—shoot for his guts.

SLIM: Okay, move out. Me an’ George’ll go up to the county road. You guys gets the highway an’ drag back.

BOSS: If we get separated, we’ll meet here. Remember this place.

CURLEY: All I care is getting the bastard. [The men move offstage right, talking. SLIM and GEORGE move slowly upstage listening to the voices that grow fainter and fainter.]

SLIM [softly to GEORGE]: Where is he? [GEORGE looks at him in the eyes for a long moment. Finally trusts him and points with his thumb toward the tules.]

SLIM: You want—I should—go away? [GEORGE nods slowly, looking at the ground. SLIM starts away, comes back, tries to say something, instead puts his hand on GEORGE’S shoulder for a second, and then hurries off upstage.]

GEORGE [moves woodenly toward the bank and the tule clump and sits down]: Lennie! [The tules shiver again and LENNIE emerges dripping.]

LENNIE: Where’s them guys goin’? [Long pause.]

GEORGE: Huntin’.

LENNIE: Whyn’t we go with ’em? I like huntin’. [Waits for an answer. GEORGE stares across the river.] Is it ’cause I done a bad thing?

GEORGE: It don’t make no difference.

LENNIE: Is that why we can’t go huntin’ with them guys?

GEORGE [woodenly]: It don’t make no difference. . . . Sit down, Lennie. Right there. [The light is going now. In the distance there are shouts of men. GEORGE turns his head and listens to the shouts.]

LENNIE: George!

GEORGE: Yeah?

LENNIE: Ain’t you gonna give me hell?

GEORGE: Give ya hell?

LENNIE: Sure. . . . Like you always done before. Like—“If I didn’ have you I’d take my fifty bucks . . .”

GEORGE [softly as if in wonder]: Jesus Christ, Lennie, you can’t remember nothing that happens. But you remember every word I say!

LENNIE: Well, ain’t you gonna say it?

GEORGE [reciting]: “If I was alone I—could live—so easy. [His voice is monotonous.] I could get a job and not have no mess. . . .”

LENNIE: Go on, go on! “And when the end of the month come . . .”

GEORGE: “And when the end of the month come, I could take my fifty bucks and go to—a cat-house. . . .”

LENNIE [eagerly]: Go on, George, ain’t you gonna give me no more hell?

GEORGE: No!

LENNIE: I can go away. I’ll go right off in the hills and find a cave if you don’t want me.

GEORGE [speaks as though his lips were stiff]: No, I want you to stay here with me.

LENNIE [craftily]: Then tell me like you done before.

GEORGE: Tell you what?

LENNIE: ’Bout the other guys and about us!

GEORGE [recites again]: “Guys like us got no families. They got a little stake and then they blow it in. They ain’t got nobody in the world that gives a hoot in hell about ’em!”

LENNIE [happily]: “But not us.” Tell about us now.

GEORGE: “But not us.”

LENNIE: “Because . . .”

GEORGE: “Because I got you and . . .”

LENNIE [triumphantly]: “And I got you. We got each other,” that’s what, that gives a hoot in hell about us. [A breeze blows up the leaves and then they settle back again. There are the shouts of men again. This time closer.] GEORGE [takes off his hat; shakily]: Take off your hat, Lennie. The air feels fine!

LENNIE [removes his hat and lays it on the ground in front of him]: Tell how it’s gonna be. [Again the sound of men. GEORGE listens to them.]

GEORGE: Look acrost the river, Lennie, and I’ll tell you like you can almost see it. [LENNIE turns his head and looks across the river.] “We gonna get a little place . . . [Reaches in his side pocket and brings out CARLSON’S Luger. Hand and gun lie on the ground behind LENNIE’S back. He stares at the back of LENNIE’S head at the place where spine and skull are joined. Sounds of men’s voices talking offstage.]

LENNIE: Go on! [GEORGE raises the gun, but his hand shakes and he drops his hand on to the ground.] Go on! How’s it gonna be? “We gonna get a little place. . . .”

GEORGE [thickly]: “We’ll have a cow. And we’ll have maybe a pig and chickens—and down the flat we’ll have a . . . little piece of alfalfa. . . .”

LENNIE [shouting]: “For the rabbits!”

GEORGE: “For the rabbits!”

LENNIE: “And I get to tend the rabbits?”

GEORGE: “And you get to tend the rabbits!”

LENNIE [giggling with happiness]: “And live on the fat o’ the land!”

GEORGE: Yes. [LENNIE turns his head. Quickly.] Look over there, Lennie. Like you can really see it.

LENNIE: Where?

GEORGE: Right acrost that river there. Can’t you almost see it?

LENNIE [moving]: Where, George?

GEORGE: It’s over there. You keep lookin’, Lennie. Just keep lookin’.

LENNIE: I’m lookin’, George. I’m lookin’.

GEORGE: That’s right. It’s gonna be nice there. Ain’t gonna be no trouble, no fights. Nobody ever gonna hurt nobody, or steal from ’em. It’s gonna be—nice.

LENNIE: I can see it, George. I can see it! Right over there! I can see it! [GEORGE fires. LENNIE crumples; falls behind the brush. The voices of the men in the distance.]

CURTAIN