Chapter 6

           ThereverendcasyandyoungTomstoodonthehillandlookeddownontheJoadplace.Thesmallunpaintedhousewasmashedatonecorner,andithadbeenpushedoffitsfoundationssothatitslumpedatanangle,itsblindfrontwindowspointingataspotofskywellabovethehorizon.Thefencesweregoneandthecottongrewinthedooryardandupagainstthehouse,andthecottonwasabouttheshedbarn.Theouthouselayonitsside,andthecottongrewcloseagainstit.Wherethedooryardhadbeenpoundedhardbythebarefeetofchildrenandbystampinghorses’hoovesandbythebroadwagonwheels,itwascultivatednow,andthedarkgreen,dustycottongrew.YoungTomstaredforalongtimeattheraggedwillowbesidethedryhorsetrough,attheconcretebasewherethepumphadbeen.

           "Jesus!"hesaidatlast."Hellmustapoppedhere.Thereain’tnobodylivin’there."Atlasthemovedquicklydownthehill,andCasyfollowedhim.Helookedintothebarnshed,deserted,alittlegroundstrawonthefloor,andatthemulestallinthecorner.Andashelookedin,therewasaskitteringonthefloorandafamilyofmicefadedinunderthestraw.Joadpausedattheentrancetothetool-shedleanto,andnotoolswerethere—abrokenplowpoint,amessofhaywireinthecorner,anironwheelfromahayrakeandarat-gnawedmulecollar,aflatgallonoilcancrustedwithdirtandoil,andapairoftornoverallshangingonanail."Thereain’tnothin’left,"saidJoad."Wehadprettynicetools.Thereain’tnothin’left."