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The
sperit
ain
’
t
in
the
people
much
no
more
;
and
worse
’
n
that
,
the
sperit
ain
’
t
in
me
no
more
.
’
Course
now
an
’
again
the
sperit
gets
movin
’
an
’
I
rip
out
a
meetin
’
,
or
when
folks
sets
out
food
I
give
’
em
a
grace
,
but
my
heart
ain
’
t
in
it
.
I
on
’
y
do
it
’
cause
they
expect
it
.
"
Joad
mopped
his
face
with
his
cap
again
.
"
You
ain
’
t
too
damn
holy
to
take
a
drink
,
are
you
?
"
he
asked
.
Casy
seemed
to
see
the
bottle
for
the
first
time
.
He
tilted
it
and
took
three
big
swallows
.
"
Nice
drinkin
’
liquor
,
"
he
said
.
"
Ought
to
be
,
"
said
Joad
.
"
That
’
s
fact
’
ry
liquor
.
Cost
a
buck
.
"
Casy
took
another
swallow
before
he
passed
the
bottle
back
.
"
Yes
,
sir
!
"
he
said
.
"
Yes
,
sir
!
"
Joad
took
the
bottle
from
him
,
and
in
politeness
did
not
wipe
the
neck
with
his
sleeve
before
he
drank
.
He
squatted
on
his
hams
and
set
the
bottle
upright
against
his
coat
roll
.
His
fingers
found
a
twig
with
which
to
draw
his
thoughts
on
the
ground
.
He
swept
the
leaves
from
a
square
and
smoothed
the
dust
.
And
he
drew
angles
and
made
little
circles
.
"
I
ain
’
t
seen
you
in
a
long
time
,
"
he
said
.
"
Nobody
’
s
seen
me
,
"
said
the
preacher
.
"
I
went
off
alone
,
an
’
I
sat
and
figured
.
The
sperit
’
s
strong
in
me
,
on
’
y
it
ain
’
t
the
same
.
I
ain
’
t
so
sure
of
a
lot
of
things
.
"
He
sat
up
straighter
against
the
tree
.
His
bony
hand
dug
its
way
like
a
squirrel
into
his
overall
pocket
,
brought
out
a
black
,
bitten
plug
of
tobacco
.
Carefully
he
brushed
off
bits
of
straw
and
gray
pocket
fuzz
before
he
bit
off
a
corner
and
settled
the
quid
into
his
cheek
.
Joad
waved
his
stick
in
negation
when
the
plug
was
held
out
to
him
.
The
turtle
dug
at
the
rolled
coat
.
Casy
looked
over
at
the
stirring
garment
.
"
What
you
got
there
—
a
chicken
?
You
’
ll
smother
it
.
"
Joad
rolled
the
coat
up
more
tightly
.
"
An
old
turtle
,
"
he
said
.
"
Picked
him
up
on
the
road
.
An
old
bulldozer
.
Thought
I
’
d
take
’
im
to
my
little
brother
.
Kids
like
turtles
.
"
The
preacher
nodded
his
head
slowly
.
"
Every
kid
got
a
turtle
some
time
or
other
.
Nobody
can
’
t
keep
a
turtle
though
.
They
work
at
it
and
work
at
it
,
and
at
last
one
day
they
get
out
and
away
they
go
—
off
somewheres
.
It
’
s
like
me
.
I
wouldn
’
t
take
the
good
ol
’
gospel
that
was
just
layin
’
there
to
my
hand
.
I
got
to
be
pickin
’
at
it
an
’
workin
’
at
it
until
I
got
it
all
tore
down
.
Here
I
got
the
sperit
sometimes
an
’
nothin
’
to
preach
about
.
I
got
the
call
to
lead
people
,
an
’
no
place
to
lead
’
em
.
"
"
Lead
’
em
around
and
around
,
"
said
Joad
.
"
Sling
’
em
in
the
irrigation
ditch
.
Tell
’
em
they
’
ll
burn
in
hell
if
they
don
’
t
think
like
you
.
What
the
hell
you
want
to
lead
’
em
someplace
for
?
Jus
’
lead
’
em
.
"
The
straight
trunk
shade
had
stretched
out
along
the
ground
.
Joad
moved
gratefully
into
it
and
squatted
on
his
hams
and
made
a
new
smooth
place
on
which
to
draw
his
thoughts
with
a
stick
.
A
thick
-
furred
yellow
shepherd
dog
came
trotting
down
the
road
,
head
low
,
tongue
lolling
and
dripping
.
Its
tail
hung
limply
curled
,
and
it
panted
loudly
.
Joad
whistled
at
it
,
but
it
only
dropped
its
head
an
inch
and
trotted
fast
toward
some
definite
destination
.
"
Goin
’
someplace
,
"
Joad
explained
,
a
little
piqued
.
"
Goin
’
for
home
maybe
.
"
