Гроздья гнева
Chapter 19
Thelandain’tplowed,an’Iain’thurtin’itnone.
Yougoddamnedsquatters.Prettysoonyou’dthinkyouownedit.You’dbesoreashell.Thinkyouownedit.Getoffnow.
Andthelittlegreencarrottopswerekickedoffandtheturnipgreenstrampled.AndthentheJimsonweedmovedbackin.Butthecopwasright.Acropraised—why,thatmakesownership.Landhoedandthecarrotseaten—amanmightfightforlandhe’stakenfoodfrom.Gethimoffquick!He’llthinkheownsit.HemightevendiefightingforthelittleplotamongtheJimsonweeds.
Didyaseehisfacewhenwekickedthemturnipsout?Why,he’dkillafellasoon’she’dlookathim.Wegottokeeptheseherepeopledownorthey’lltakethecountry.They’lltakethecountry.
Outlanders,foreigners.
Sure,theytalkthesamelanguage,buttheyain’tthesame.Lookhowtheylive.Thinkanyofusfolks’dlivelikethat?Hell,no!
Intheevening,squattingandtalking.Andanexcitedman:Whyn’ttwentyofustakeapieceoflan’?Wegotguns.Takeitan’say,«Putusoffifyoucan.»Whyn’twedothat?
They’djus’shootuslikerats.
Well,which’dyourutherbe,deadorhere?Undergroun’orinahouseallmadeofgunnysacks?Which’dyourutherforyourkids,deadnowordeadintwoyearswithwhattheycallmalnutrition?Knowwhatweetallweek?Bilednettlesan’frieddough!Knowwherewegottheflourforthedough?Swep’thefloorofaboxcar.
