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- Джон Стейнбек
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"
Somewhere
about
midnight
,
I
guess
.
Here
we
come
;
you
ready
to
hop
?
"
"
Sure
.
"
"
O
.
K
.
Come
on
.
"
The
train
pulled
slowly
on
away
from
them
.
The
station
of
Torgas
was
only
a
little
way
ahead
,
with
its
red
light
on
and
glancing
along
the
blade
of
the
semaphore
.
The
brakeman
was
swinging
a
lantern
back
and
forth
.
Over
to
the
right
the
lonely
,
cold
street
lights
of
the
town
burned
and
put
a
pale
glow
in
the
sky
.
The
air
was
cold
now
.
A
sharp
,
soundless
wind
blew
.
"
I
’
m
hungry
,
"
Jim
said
.
"
Got
any
ideas
about
eating
,
Mac
?
"
"
Wait
till
we
get
to
a
light
.
I
think
I
’
ve
got
a
good
prospect
on
my
list
.
"
He
hurried
away
into
the
darkness
,
and
Jim
trotted
after
him
.
They
came
immediately
into
the
edge
of
the
town
,
and
on
a
corner
,
under
one
of
the
lights
,
Mac
stopped
and
pulled
out
a
sheet
of
paper
.
"
We
got
a
nice
town
here
,
Jim
,
"
he
said
.
"
Nearly
fifty
active
sympathizers
.
Guys
you
can
rely
on
to
give
you
a
lift
.
Here
’
s
the
guy
I
want
.
Alfred
Anderson
,
Townsend
,
between
Fourth
and
Fifth
,
Al
’
s
Lunch
Wagon
.
What
do
you
think
of
that
?
"
"
What
’
s
that
paper
?
"
Jim
asked
.
"
Why
,
it
’
s
a
list
of
all
the
people
in
town
we
know
to
be
sympathizers
.
With
this
list
we
can
get
anything
from
knitted
wristlets
to
a
box
of
shotgun
shells
.
But
Al
’
s
Lunch
Wagon
—
lunch
wagons
generally
stay
open
all
night
,
Jim
.
Townsend
,
that
’
ll
be
one
of
the
main
streets
.
Come
on
,
but
let
me
work
this
.
"
They
turned
soon
into
the
main
street
,
and
walked
down
its
length
until
,
near
the
end
,
where
stores
were
vacant
and
lots
occurred
between
buildings
,
they
found
Al
’
s
Lunch
Wagon
,
a
cozy
looking
little
car
with
red
stained
-
glass
in
the
windows
,
and
a
sliding
door
.
Through
the
window
they
could
see
that
two
customers
sat
on
the
stools
,
and
that
a
fat
young
man
with
heavy
,
white
,
bare
arms
hovered
behind
the
counter
.
