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- Джон Стейнбек
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"
Tough
guy
,
huh
?
"
Then
Jim
caught
himself
and
grinned
in
embarrassment
.
"
I
’
m
tired
,
"
he
apologized
.
"
It
’
s
a
new
kind
of
work
to
me
.
"
The
blond
checker
smiled
.
"
I
know
how
it
is
,
"
he
said
.
"
You
get
pretty
touchy
when
you
’
re
tired
.
Why
don
’
t
you
get
up
in
a
tree
and
have
a
smoke
?
"
"
I
guess
I
will
.
"
Jim
went
back
to
his
tree
.
He
hooked
his
bucket
over
a
limb
and
went
to
picking
again
.
He
said
aloud
to
himself
.
"
Even
me
,
like
a
mad
dog
.
Can
’
t
do
that
.
My
old
man
did
that
.
"
He
did
not
work
quickly
,
but
he
reduced
his
movements
to
a
machine
-
like
perfection
.
The
sun
went
low
,
until
it
left
the
ground
entirely
and
remained
only
on
the
tops
of
the
trees
.
Far
away
,
in
the
town
,
a
whistle
blew
.
But
Jim
worked
steadily
on
.
It
was
growing
dusky
when
the
rumble
in
the
packing
-
house
stopped
at
last
and
the
checkers
called
out
,
"
Come
on
in
,
you
men
.
It
’
s
time
to
quit
.
"
Jim
climbed
down
the
ladder
,
emptied
his
bucket
and
stacked
it
up
with
the
others
.
The
checker
marked
in
the
buckets
and
then
totaled
the
picking
.
The
men
stood
about
for
a
few
moments
,
rolling
cigarettes
,
talking
softly
in
the
evening
.
They
walked
slowly
away
down
a
row
,
toward
the
county
road
,
where
the
orchard
bunk
houses
were
.
Jim
saw
the
old
man
ahead
of
him
and
speeded
up
to
catch
him
.
The
thin
legs
moved
with
jointed
stiffness
.
"
It
’
s
you
again
,
"
he
said
as
Jim
caught
up
with
him
.
"
Thought
I
’
d
walk
in
with
you
.
"
"
Well
,
who
’
s
stoppin
’
you
?
"
Obviously
he
was
pleased
.
"
You
got
any
folks
here
?
"
Jim
asked
.
"
Folks
?
No
.
"
Jim
said
,
"
Well
,
if
you
’
re
all
alone
,
why
don
’
t
you
get
into
some
charity
racket
and
make
the
county
take
care
of
you
?
"
