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Chapter 22
’Goddamnredsisdrivin’thecountrytoruin,’hesays,an’’Wegottodrivethesehereredbastardsout.’Well,theywereayoungfellajus’comeoutwesthere,an’he’slistenin’oneday.Hekindascratchedhisheadan’hesays,’Mr.Hines,Iain’tbeenherelong.Whatisthesegoddamnreds?’Well,sir,Hinessays,’Aredisanyson-of-a-bitchthatwantsthirtycentsanhourwhenwe’repayin’twenty-five!’Well,thisyoungfellahethinksabouther,an’hescratcheshishead,an’hesays,’Well,Jesus,Mr.Hines.Iain’tason-of-a-bitch,butifthat’swhataredis—why,Iwantthirtycentsanhour.Ever’bodydoes.Hell,Mr.Hines,we’reallreds.’"Timothydrovehisshovelalongtheditchbottom,andthesolidearthshonewheretheshovelcutit.
Tomlaughed.«Metoo,Iguess.»Hispickarcedupanddrovedown,andtheearthcrackedunderit.Thesweatrolleddownhisforeheadanddownthesidesofhisnose,anditglistenedonhisneck.«Damnit,"hesaid,«apickisanicetool(umph),ifyoudon’fightit(umph).Youan’thepick(umph)workin’together(umph).»
Inline,thethreemenworked,andtheditchinchedalong,andthesunshonehotlydownontheminthegrowingmorning.
WhenTomlefther,Ruthiegazedinatthedoorofthesanitaryunitforawhile.HercouragewasnotstrongwithoutWinfieldtoboastfor.Sheputabarefootinontheconcretefloor,andthenwithdrewit.Downthelineawomancameoutofatentandstartedafireinatincampstove.
