“You sharin’ with us, Muley Graves?’’ he asked. Muley fidgeted in embarrassment. “I ain’t got no choice in the matter. ’’ He stopped on the ungracious sound of his own words. “That ain’t like I mean it. That ain’t. I mean’’—he stumbled—“what I mean, if a fella’s got somepin to eat an’ another fella’s hungry—why, the first fella ain’t got no choice. I mean, s’pose I pick up my rabbits an’ go off somewheres an’ eat ’em. See?’’ “I see,’’ said Casy. “I can see that. Muley sees somepin there, Tom. Muley’s got a-holt of somepin, an’ it’s too big for him, an’ it’s too big for me.’’
