Гроздья гнева

           Theypassedthesummitinthedarkandcameslowlydowninthelatenight,throughtheshatteredstonedebrisofOatman;andwhenthedaylightcametheysawtheColoradoriverbelowthem.TheydrovetoTopock,pulledupatthebridgewhileaguardwashedoffthewindshieldsticker.Thenacrossthebridgeandintothebrokenrockwilderness.Andalthoughtheyweredeadwearyandthemorningheatwasgrowing,theystopped.

           Pacalled,"We’rethere—we’reinCalifornia!"Theylookeddullyatthebrokenrockglaringunderthesun,andacrosstherivertheterriblerampartsofArizona.

           "Wegotthedesert,"saidTom."Wegottogettothewaterandrest."

           Theroadrunsparalleltotheriver,anditwaswellintothemorningwhentheburningmotorscametoNeedles,wheretheriverrunsswiftlyamongthereeds.

           TheJoadsandWilsonsdrovetotheriver,andtheysatinthecarslookingatthelovelywaterflowingby,andthegreenreedsjerkingslowlyinthecurrent.Therewasalittleencampmentbytheriver,elevententsnearthewater,andtheswampgrassontheground.AndTomleanedoutofthetruckwindow."Mindifwestophereapiece?"

           Astoutwoman,scrubbingclothesinabucket,lookedup."Wedon’townit,mister.Stopifyouwant.They’llbeacopdowntolookyouover."Andshewentbacktoherscrubbinginthesun.

           Thetwocarspulledtoaclearplaceontheswampgrass.Thetentswerepasseddown,theWilsontentsetup,theJoadtarpaulinstretchedoveritsrope.