Nathanael West - The Day of the Locust [27]
“Nope.”
She prodded him.
“Well, what’ve you got?”
“Mig and me’s set some traps.”
Faye laughed.
“Rat traps, eh? We’re going to eat rats.”
Earle didn’t say anything.
“Listen, you big, strong, silent dope,” she said, “either make sense, or God damn it, get out of this car.”
“They’re quail traps,” he said without the slightest change in his wooden, formal manner.
She ignored his explanation.
“Talking to you is like pulling teeth. You wear me out.” Tod knew that there was no hope for him in this quarrel. He had heard it all before.
“I didn’t mean nothing,” Earle said. “I was only funning. I wouldn’t feed you rats.”
She slammed off the emergency brake and started the car again. At Zacarias Street, she turned into the hills. After climbing steadily for a quarter of a mile, she reached a dirt road and followed it to its end. They all climbed out, Earle helping Faye.
“Give me a kiss,” she said, smiling her forgiveness.
He took his hat off ceremoniously and placed it on the hood of the car, then wrapped his long arms around her. They paid no attention to Tod, who was standing off to one side watching them. He saw Earle close his eyes and pucker up his lips like a little boy. But there was nothing boyish about what he did to her. When she had had as much as she wanted, she pushed him away.
“You, too?” she called gaily to Tod, who had turned his back.
“Oh, some other time,” he replied, imitating her casualness.
She laughed, then took out a compact and began to fix her mouth. When she was ready, they started along a little path that was a continuation of the dirt road. Earle led, Faye came next and Tod brought up the rear.
It was full spring. The path ran along the bottom of a narrow canyon and wherever weeds could get a purchase in its steep banks they flowered in purple, blue and yellow. Orange poppies bordered the path. Their petals were wrinkled like crepe and their leaves were heavy with talcumlike dust.
They climbed until they reached another canyon. This one was sterile, but its bare ground and jagged rocks were even more brilliantly colored than the flowers of the first. The path was silver, grained with streaks of rose-gray, and the walls of the canyon were turquoise, mauve, chocolate and lavender. The air itself was vibrant pink.
They stopped to watch a humming bird chase a blue jay. The jay flashed by squawking with its tiny enemy on its tail like a ruby bullet. The gaudy birds burst the colored air into a thousand glittering particles like metal confetti.
When they came out of this canyon, they saw below them a little green valley thick with trees, mostly eucalyptus, with here and there a poplar and one enormous black live-oak. Sliding and stumbling down a dry wash, they made for the valley.
Tod saw a man watching their approach from the edge of the wood. Faye also saw him and waved.
“Hi, Mig!” she shouted.
“Chinita!” he called back.
She ran the last ten yards of the slope and the man caught her in his arms.
He was toffee-colored with large Armenian eyes and pouting black lips. His head was a mass of tight, ordered curls. He wore a long-haired sweater, called a “gorilla” in and around Los Angeles, with nothing under it. His soiled duck trousers were held up by a red bandanna handkerchief. On his feet were a pair of tattered tennis sneakers.
They moved on to the camp which was located in a clearing in the center of the wood. It consisted of little more than a ramshackle hut patched with tin signs that had been stolen from the highway and a stove without legs or bottom set on some rocks. Near the hut was a row of chicken coops.
Earle started a fire under the stove while Faye sat down on a box and watched him. Tod went over to look at the chickens. There was one old hen and a half a dozen game cocks. A great deal of pains had been taken in making the coops, which were of grooved boards, carefully matched and joined. Their floors were freshly spread with peat moss.
The Mexican came over and began to talk about the cocks. He was very proud of them.
“That’s Hermano, five times winner. He’s one of