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           "Fifty-sixtycarsafolksgobyever’day,folksallmovin’westwithkidsan’househol’stuff.Wheretheygoin’?Whattheygonnado?"

           "Doin’thesameasus,"saidTom."Goin’someplacetolive.Tryin’togetalong.That’sall."

           "Well,Idon’knowwhatthecountry’scomin’to.Ijus’don’know.Here’smetryin’togetalong,too.Thinkanythembignewcarsstophere?No,sir!Theygoontothemyella-paintedcompanystationsintown.Theydon’tstopnoplacelikethis.Mostfolksstopshereain’tgotnothin."

           Alflippedtheradiatorcapanditjumpedintotheairwithaheadofsteambehindit,andahollowbubblingsoundcameoutoftheradiator.Ontopofthetruck,thesufferinghounddogcrawledtimidlytotheedgeoftheloadandlookedover,whimpering,towardthewater.UncleJohnclimbedupandliftedhimdownbythescruffoftheneck.Foramomentthedogstaggeredonstifflegs,andthenhewenttolapthemudunderthefaucet.Inthehighwaythecarswhizzedby,glisteningintheheat,andthehotwindoftheirgoingfannedintotheservice-stationyard.Alfilledtheradiatorwiththehose.

           "Itain’tthatI’mtryin’togittradeoutarichfolks,"thefatmanwenton."I’mjus’tryin’togittrade.Why,thefolksthatstopsherebegsgasolinean’theytradesforgasoline.Icouldshowyouinmybackroomthestuffthey’lltradeforgasan’oil:bedsan’babybuggiesan’potsan’pans.Onefamilytradedadolltheirkidhadforagallon.