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- Джон Стейнбек
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Mac
said
,
"
If
it
didn
’
t
make
our
guys
so
miserable
,
I
wish
the
rain
’
d
go
on
.
It
isn
’
t
doin
’
those
apples
no
good
.
"
"
It
isn
’
t
doin
’
my
blankets
no
good
,
neither
,
"
Albert
said
sullenly
.
The
men
on
the
back
were
singing
in
chorus
,
"
Oh
,
we
sing
,
we
sing
,
we
sing
Of
Lydia
Pinkham
And
her
gift
to
the
human
race
—
—
"
Albert
turned
a
corner
and
came
into
the
road
to
Anderson
’
s
place
.
"
Nice
work
,
"
said
Mac
.
"
You
didn
’
t
go
near
the
town
.
It
would
of
been
hell
if
we
’
d
got
held
up
and
lost
our
load
.
"
Jim
said
,
"
Look
at
the
smoke
,
Mac
.
They
’
ve
got
a
fire
going
,
all
right
.
"
The
blue
smoke
rolled
among
the
trees
,
hardly
rising
above
their
tops
.
"
Better
drive
along
the
camp
,
near
the
trees
,
"
Mac
advised
.
"
They
’
re
going
to
have
to
cut
up
these
animals
,
and
there
’
s
nothing
to
hang
them
on
but
the
apple
trees
.
"
Men
were
standing
in
the
road
,
watching
for
them
.
As
the
truck
moved
along
the
men
on
the
bean
sacks
stood
up
and
took
off
their
hats
and
bowed
.
Albert
dropped
into
low
gear
and
crawled
through
the
crowd
of
men
to
the
end
of
the
camp
,
near
the
apple
trees
.
London
,
with
Sam
behind
him
,
came
pushing
through
the
shouting
mill
of
hysterical
men
and
women
.
