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- Джон Стейнбек
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The
ragged
man
reached
a
decision
.
"
Look
"
,
he
said
.
"
How
many
men
they
say
they
want
on
your
han
’
bill
?
"
"
Eight
hunderd
,
an
’
that
’
s
in
one
little
place
.
"
"
Orange
color
han
’
bill
?
"
"
Why
—
yes
.
"
"
Give
the
name
a
the
fella
—
says
so
and
so
,
labor
contractor
?
"
Pa
reached
in
his
pocket
and
brought
out
the
folded
handbill
.
"
That
’
s
right
.
How
’
d
you
know
?
"
"
Look
,
"
said
the
man
.
"
It
don
’
t
make
no
sense
.
This
fella
wants
eight
hunderd
men
.
So
he
prints
up
five
thousand
of
them
things
an
’
maybe
twenty
thousan
’
people
sees
’
em
.
An
’
maybe
two
-
three
thousan
’
folks
gets
movin
’
account
a
this
here
han
’
bill
.
Folks
that
’
s
crazy
with
worry
.
"
"
But
it
don
’
t
make
no
sense
!
"
Pa
cried
.
"
Not
till
you
see
the
fella
that
put
out
this
here
bill
.
You
’
ll
see
him
,
or
somebody
that
’
s
workin
’
for
him
.
You
’
ll
be
a
-
campin
’
by
a
ditch
,
you
an
’
fifty
other
famblies
.
An
’
he
’
ll
look
in
your
tent
an
’
see
if
you
got
anything
lef
’
to
eat
.
An
’
if
you
got
nothin
’
,
he
says
,
’
Wanna
job
?
’
An
’
you
’
ll
say
,
’
I
sure
do
,
mister
.
I
’
ll
sure
thank
you
for
a
chance
to
do
some
work
.
’
An
’
he
’
ll
say
,
’
I
can
use
you
.
’
An
’
you
’
ll
say
,
’
When
do
I
start
?
’
An
’
he
’
ll
tell
you
where
to
go
,
an
’
what
time
,
an
’
then
he
’
ll
go
on
.
Maybe
he
needs
two
hunderd
men
,
so
he
talks
to
five
hunderd
,
an
’
they
tell
other
folks
,
an
’
when
you
get
to
the
place
,
they
’
s
a
thousan
’
men
.
This
here
fella
says
,
’
I
’
m
payin
’
twenty
cents
an
hour
.
’
An
’
maybe
half
a
the
men
walk
off
.
But
they
’
s
still
five
hunderd
that
’
s
so
goddamn
hungry
they
’
ll
work
for
nothin
’
but
biscuits
.
Well
,
this
here
fella
’
s
got
a
contract
to
pick
them
peaches
or
—
chop
that
cotton
.
You
see
now
?
The
more
fellas
he
can
get
,
an
’
the
hungrier
,
less
he
’
s
gonna
pay
.
An
’
he
’
ll
get
a
fella
with
kids
if
he
can
,
’
cause
—
hell
,
I
says
I
wasn
’
t
gonna
fret
ya
.
"
The
circle
of
faces
looked
coldly
at
him
.
The
eyes
tested
his
words
.
The
ragged
man
grew
self
-
conscious
.
"
I
says
I
wasn
’
t
gonna
fret
ya
,
an
’
here
I
’
m
a
-
doin
’
it
.
You
gonna
go
on
.
You
ain
’
t
goin
’
back
.
"
The
silence
hung
on
the
porch
.
And
the
light
hissed
,
and
a
halo
of
moths
swung
around
and
around
the
lantern
.
The
ragged
man
went
on
nervously
,
"
Lemme
tell
ya
what
to
do
when
ya
meet
that
fella
says
he
got
work
.
Lemme
tell
ya
.
Ast
him
what
he
’
s
gonna
pay
.
Ast
him
to
write
down
what
he
’
s
gonna
pay
.
Ast
him
that
.
I
tell
you
men
you
’
re
gonna
get
fooled
if
you
don
’
t
.
"
