and tears were running down his cheeks as he held his puffing leg between his hands and as three-year-old cap hollister turned to do what his brother said , terrified and blubbering , it had slithered over his foot , his own foot , like deadly green water and later the doctor had said the bite was n't dangerous , that the snake must have bitten something else only a little while before and exhausted its poison sac , but lennie thought he was dying and everywhere had been the sweet summer smell of grass and the hoppers were jumping , making their eternal rickety-rickety sound and spitting tobacco juice ( `` spit and i 'll let you go '' had been the cry in those long-ago nebraska days ) ; good smells , good sounds , golf-course smells and sounds , and the screaming of his brother and the dry , scaly feel of the snake , looking down and seeing its flat , triangular head , its black eyes ... the snake had slithered across cap 's foot on its way back into the high grass ... back into the rough , you might say ... and the smell had been like this ... and he did n't like this place .