Look acrost the river, Lennie, an’ I’ll tell you so you can almost see it.

The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool.

A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green.

There is a path through the willows and among the sycamores, a path beaten hard by boys coming down from the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by tramps who come wearily down from the highway in the evening to jungle–up near water.

The deep green pool of the Salinas River was still in the late afternoon. Already the sun had left the valley to go climbing up the slopes of the Gabilan mountains, and the hilltops were rosy in the sun.

Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves.

On the sandy bank under the trees the leaves lie deep and so crisp that a lizard makes a great skittering if he runs among them.