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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Стр. 152/317
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"
Well
,
why
didn
’
t
you
say
so
?
"
He
went
puffing
away
like
a
small
engine
.
Mac
sighed
.
"
Thank
God
we
don
’
t
have
many
like
him
to
fight
,
"
he
said
.
"
That
little
guy
’
s
got
guts
.
Came
out
all
alone
.
He
’
s
kind
of
like
Joy
,
himself
.
"
They
walked
on
toward
the
stoves
.
Two
men
passed
,
carrying
the
body
of
Joy
between
them
,
and
the
coroner
walked
fussily
along
behind
.
Men
were
walking
away
from
the
stoves
with
pieces
of
greasy
fried
pork
in
their
hands
.
They
wiped
their
lips
with
their
sleeves
.
The
tops
of
the
stoves
were
covered
with
little
slabs
of
hissing
meat
.
"
God
,
that
smells
good
,
"
said
Mac
.
"
Let
’
s
get
some
.
I
’
m
hungry
as
hell
.
"
The
cooks
handed
out
ill
-
cut
,
half
-
cooked
pieces
of
pork
to
them
,
and
they
strolled
away
,
gnawing
at
the
soft
meat
.
"
Only
eat
the
outside
,
"
Mac
said
.
"
Doc
shouldn
’
t
let
the
men
eat
raw
pork
.
They
’
ll
all
be
sick
.
"
"
They
got
too
hungry
to
wait
,
"
said
Jim
.
As
apathy
had
fallen
on
the
men
.
They
sat
staring
in
front
of
them
.
They
seemed
not
to
have
the
energy
to
talk
,
and
among
them
the
bedraggled
,
discontented
women
sat
.
They
were
listless
and
stale
.
They
gnawed
thoughtfully
at
their
meat
,
and
when
it
was
finished
,
wiped
their
hands
on
their
clothes
.
The
air
was
full
of
their
apathy
,
and
full
of
their
discontent
.
Mac
,
walking
through
the
camp
with
Jim
,
grew
discontented
,
too
.
"
They
ought
to
be
doing
something
,
"
Mac
complained
.
"
I
don
’
t
care
what
it
is
.
We
can
’
t
let
’
em
sit
around
like
this
.
Our
strike
’
ll
go
right
out
from
under
us
.
Christ
,
what
’
s
the
matter
with
’
em
?
They
had
a
man
killed
this
morning
;
that
ought
to
keep
’
em
going
.
Now
it
’
s
just
after
noon
,
and
they
’
re
slumped
already
.
We
got
to
get
them
working
at
something
.
Look
at
their
eyes
,
Jim
.
"
"
They
’
re
not
looking
at
anything
—
they
’
re
just
staring
.
"
"
Yeah
,
they
’
re
thinking
of
themselves
.
Every
man
there
is
thinkin
’
how
hurt
he
is
,
or
how
much
money
he
made
during
the
war
.
Just
like
Anderson
.
They
’
re
falling
apart
.
"
"
Well
,
let
’
s
do
something
.
Let
’
s
make
them
move
.
What
is
there
to
do
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
If
we
could
make
’
em
dig
a
hole
,
it
’
d
be
as
good
as
anything
else
.
If
we
can
just
get
’
em
all
pushing
on
something
,
or
lifting
something
,
or
all
walking
in
one
direction
—
doesn
’
t
matter
a
hell
of
a
lot
.
They
’
ll
start
fighting
each
other
if
we
don
’
t
move
’
em
.
They
’
ll
begin
to
get
mean
,
pretty
soon
.
"
