Гроздья гнева

           Theywalked,threadingtheirwayamongthedeadautomobiles,toarustingsedan,restingonflattires.

           "Sureit’sa’25,"Alcried."Canweyankoffthepan,mister?"

           Tomkneeleddownandlookedunderthecar."Pan’soffawready.Onerod’sbeentook.Lookslikeonegone."Hewriggledunderthecar."Getacrankan’turnherover,Al."Heworkedtherodagainsttheshaft."Purtymuchfrozewithgrease."Alturnedthecrankslowly."Easy,"Tomcalled.Hepickedasplinterofwoodfromthegroundandscrapedthecakeofgreasefromthebearingandthebearingbolts.

           "Howisshefortight?"Alasked.

           "Well,she’salittleloose,butnotbad."

           "Well,howissheforwore?"

           "Gotplentyshim.Ain’tbeenalltookup.Yeah,she’sO.K.Turnherovereasynow.Getherdown,easy—there!Runoverthetruckan’getsometools."

           Theone-eyedmansaid,"I’llgetyouaboxatools."Heshuffledoffamongtherustycarsandinamomenthecamebackwithatinboxoftools.TomdugoutasocketwrenchandhandedittoAl.

           "Youtakeheroff.Don’losenoshimsan’don’lettheboltsgetaway,an’keeptrackathecotter-pins.Hurryup.Thelight’sgettin’dim."

           Alcrawledunderthecar."Weoughtagetusasetasocketwrenches,"hecalled."Can’tgetinnoplacewithamonkeywrench."

           "Yelloutifyouwantahand,"Tomsaid.

           Theone-eyedmanstoodhelplesslyby."I’llhelpyaifyawant,"hesaid."Knowwhatthatson-of-a-bitchdone?Hecomebyan’hegotonwhitepants.