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Chapter 20
Hegottheotherpintopenawready.Hewon’tbefar—notthewayhewasgoin’.»
Tomsaid,«Thankya.Igottofindhim.»
«Youwanttatakehishat?»
«Yeah!Yeah!He’llneedit.Well,thankya.»
«What’sthematterwithhim?»thegraymanasked.«Hewasn’takin’pleasureinhisdrink.»
«Oh,he’skinda—moody.Well,goodnight.An’ifyouseethatsquirtConnie,tell’imwe’vewentsouth.»
«Igotsomanypeopletolookoutforan’tellstuffto,Ican’teverremember’emall.»
«Don’tputyourselfouttoomuch,"Tomsaid.HewentoutthescreendoorcarryingUncleJohn’sdustyblackhat.Hecrossedtheconcreteroadandwalkedalongtheedgeofit.Belowhiminthesunkenfield,theHoovervillelay;andthelittlefiresflickeredandthelanternsshonethroughthetents.Somewhereinthecampaguitarsounded,slowchords,struckwithoutanysequence,practicechords.Tomstoppedandlistened,andthenhemovedslowlyalongthesideoftheroad,andeveryfewstepshestoppedtolistenagain.Hehadgoneaquarterofamilebeforeheheardwhathelistenedfor.Downbelowtheembankmentthesoundofathick,tunelessvoice,singingdrably.Tomcockedhishead,thebettertohear.
Andthedullvoicesang,«I’vegivemyhearttoJesus,soJesustakemehome.I’vegivemysoultoJesus,soJesusismyhome.»Thesongtrailedofftoamurmur,andthenstopped.Tomhurrieddownfromtheembankment,towardthesong.Afterawhilehestoppedandlistenedagain.
