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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Гроздья гнева
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Tom
’
s
eyes
glowed
angrily
.
"
Deputy
sheriff
ain
’
t
your
brother
-
’
n
-
law
by
any
chance
?
"
The
owner
leaned
forward
.
"
No
,
he
ain
’
t
.
An
’
the
time
ain
’
t
come
yet
when
us
local
folks
got
to
take
no
talk
from
you
goddamn
bums
,
neither
.
"
It
don
’
t
trouble
you
none
to
take
our
four
bits
.
An
’
when
’
d
we
get
to
be
bums
?
We
ain
’
t
asked
ya
for
nothin
’
.
All
of
us
bums
,
huh
?
Well
,
we
ain
’
t
askin
’
no
nickels
from
you
for
the
chance
to
lay
down
an
’
rest
.
"
The
men
on
the
porch
were
rigid
,
motionless
,
quiet
.
Expression
was
gone
from
their
faces
;
and
their
eyes
,
in
the
shadows
under
their
hats
,
moved
secretly
up
to
the
face
of
the
proprietor
.
Pa
growled
,
"
Come
off
it
,
Tom
.
"
"
Sure
,
I
’
ll
come
off
it
.
"
The
circle
of
men
were
quiet
,
sitting
on
the
steps
,
leaning
on
the
high
porch
.
Their
eyes
glittered
under
the
harsh
light
of
the
gas
lantern
.
Their
faces
were
hard
in
the
hard
light
,
and
they
were
very
still
.
Only
their
eyes
moved
from
speaker
to
speaker
,
and
their
faces
were
expressionless
and
quiet
.
A
lamp
bug
slammed
into
the
lantern
and
broke
itself
,
and
fell
into
the
darkness
.
In
one
of
the
tents
a
child
wailed
in
complaint
,
and
a
woman
’
s
soft
voice
soothed
it
and
then
broke
into
a
low
song
,
"
Jesus
loves
you
in
the
night
.
Sleep
good
,
sleep
good
.
Jesus
watches
in
the
night
.
Sleep
,
oh
,
sleep
,
oh
.
"
The
lantern
hissed
on
the
porch
.
The
owner
scratched
in
the
V
of
his
open
shirt
,
where
a
tangle
of
white
chest
hair
showed
.
He
was
watchful
and
ringed
with
trouble
.
He
watched
the
men
in
the
circle
,
watched
for
some
expression
.
And
they
made
no
move
.
Tom
was
silent
for
a
long
time
.
His
dark
eyes
looked
slowly
up
at
the
proprietor
.
"
I
don
’
t
wanta
make
no
trouble
,
"
he
said
.
"
It
’
s
a
hard
thing
to
be
named
a
bum
.
I
ain
’
t
afraid
,
"
he
said
softly
.
"
