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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Гроздья гнева
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- Стр. 201/563
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The
road
runs
parallel
to
the
river
,
and
it
was
well
into
the
morning
when
the
burning
motors
came
to
Needles
,
where
the
river
runs
swiftly
among
the
reeds
.
The
Joads
and
Wilsons
drove
to
the
river
,
and
they
sat
in
the
cars
looking
at
the
lovely
water
flowing
by
,
and
the
green
reeds
jerking
slowly
in
the
current
.
There
was
a
little
encampment
by
the
river
,
eleven
tents
near
the
water
,
and
the
swamp
grass
on
the
ground
.
And
Tom
leaned
out
of
the
truck
window
.
"
Mind
if
we
stop
here
a
piece
?
"
A
stout
woman
,
scrubbing
clothes
in
a
bucket
,
looked
up
.
"
We
don
’
t
own
it
,
mister
.
Stop
if
you
want
.
They
’
ll
be
a
cop
down
to
look
you
over
.
"
And
she
went
back
to
her
scrubbing
in
the
sun
.
The
two
cars
pulled
to
a
clear
place
on
the
swamp
grass
.
The
tents
were
passed
down
,
the
Wilson
tent
set
up
,
the
Joad
tarpaulin
stretched
over
its
rope
.
Winfield
and
Ruthie
walked
slowly
down
through
the
willows
to
the
reedy
place
.
Ruthie
said
,
with
soft
vehemence
,
"
California
.
This
here
’
s
California
an
’
we
’
re
right
in
it
!
"
Winfield
broke
a
tule
and
twisted
it
free
,
and
he
put
the
white
pulp
in
his
mouth
and
chewed
it
.
They
walked
into
the
water
and
stood
quietly
,
the
water
about
the
calves
of
their
legs
.
"
We
got
the
desert
yet
,
"
Ruthie
said
.
"
What
’
s
the
desert
like
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
I
seen
pitchers
once
says
a
desert
.
They
was
bones
ever
’
place
.
"
"
Man
bones
?
"
