Curley returned to the wash bench and cleansed his hands, and because the cold water felt so good, he dipped his face into it again, blowing like a porpoise. As he squilgeed his face to lessen the duty of the overworked towel, he heard a step and looked up quickly. Antonio was leaning against the house and scowling at him, for he had looked through a crack in the corral wall and had seen Pete being examined.
"Eet ees bueno thees mornin'," the Mexican offered.
"What's good?" Curley retorted, staring because of Antonio's unusual loquacity.
"Madre de Dios, de weatha."
"Oh, salubrious," replied Curley, evading a hole in the towel. "Plumb sumptuous an' highfalutin', so to speak. You had a nice night for Eagle, all right. Who-all was down there?"
"Antone not en Eagle—he no leev de rancho," the Mexican replied, surprised. He hesitated as if to continue and Curley noticed it.
"What's on yore mind, 'Tony? What's eating you? Pronto, I'm hungry. Next!"
"No nex'—I no sabe."
"You talkee likum Chinee!" retorted Curley. "Why don't you learn how to talk English? It's easy enough. An' what do you want, anyhow, getting so friendly all of a sudden?"
Antonio hesitated again. "What you do een de corral thees mornin'?"