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Chapter 20
Asheafofpaperswasheldinhisshirtpocketbyalittlefenceoffountainpensandyellowpencils;andfromhishippocketprotrudedanotebookwithmetalcovers.Hemovedtooneofthegroupsofsquattingmen,andtheylookedupathim,suspiciousandquiet.Theywatchedhimanddidnotmove;thewhitesoftheireyesshowedbeneaththeirises,fortheydidnotraisetheirheadstolook.TomandAlandFloydstrolledcasuallynear.
Themansaid,«Youmenwanttowork?»Stilltheylookedquietly,suspiciously.Andmenfromalloverthecampmovednear.
Oneofthesquattingmenspokeatlast.«Surewewantawork.Where’sat’swork?»
«TulareCounty.Fruit’sopeningup.Needalotofpickers.»
Floydspokeup.«Youdoin’thehiring?»
«Well,I’mcontractingtheland.»
Themenwereinacompactgroupnow.Anoveralledmantookoffhisblackhatandcombedbackhislongblackhairwithhisfingers.«Whatyoupayin’?»heasked.
«Well,can’ttellexactly,yet.’Boutthirtycents,Iguess.»
«Whycan’tyoutell?Youtookthecontract,didn’you?»
«That’strue,"thekhakimansaid.«Butit’skeyedtotheprice.Mightbealittlemore,mightbealittleless.»
Floydsteppedoutahead.Hesaidquietly,«I’llgo,mister.You’reacontractor,an’yougotalicense.Youjus’showyourlicense,an’thenyougiveusanordertogotowork,an’where,an’when,an’howmuchwe’llget,an’yousignthat,an’we’llallgo.»
Thecontractorturned,scowling.
