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- Джон Стейнбек
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Wilson
walked
near
for
the
last
words
.
"
We
can
’
t
go
,
folks
,
"
he
said
.
"
Sairy
’
s
done
up
.
She
got
to
res
’
.
She
ain
’
t
gonna
git
acrost
that
desert
alive
.
"
They
were
silent
at
his
words
;
then
Tom
said
,
"
Cop
says
he
’
ll
run
us
in
if
we
’
re
here
tomorra
.
"
Wilson
shook
his
head
.
His
eyes
were
glazed
with
worry
,
and
a
paleness
showed
through
his
dark
skin
.
"
Jus
’
hafta
do
’
er
,
then
.
Sairy
can
’
t
go
.
If
they
jail
us
,
why
,
they
’
ll
hafta
jail
us
.
She
got
to
res
’
an
’
get
strong
.
"
Pa
said
,
"
Maybe
we
better
wait
an
’
all
go
together
.
"
"
No
,
"
Wilson
said
.
"
You
been
nice
to
us
;
you
been
kin
’
,
but
you
can
’
t
stay
here
.
You
got
to
get
on
an
’
get
jobs
and
work
.
We
ain
’
t
gonna
let
you
stay
.
"
Pa
said
excitedly
,
"
But
you
ain
’
t
got
nothing
.
"
Wilson
smiled
.
"
Never
had
nothin
’
when
you
took
us
up
.
This
ain
’
t
none
of
your
business
.
Don
’
t
you
make
me
git
mean
.
You
got
to
go
,
or
I
’
ll
get
mean
an
’
mad
.
"
Ma
beckoned
Pa
into
the
cover
of
the
tarpaulin
and
spoke
softly
to
him
.
Wilson
turned
to
Casy
.
"
Sairy
want
you
should
go
see
her
.
"
"
Sure
,
"
said
the
preacher
.
He
walked
to
the
Wilson
tent
,
tiny
and
gray
,
and
he
slipped
the
flaps
aside
and
entered
.
It
was
dusky
and
hot
inside
.
The
mattress
lay
on
the
ground
,
and
the
equipment
was
scattered
about
,
as
it
had
been
unloaded
in
the
morning
.
Sairy
lay
on
the
mattress
,
her
eyes
wide
and
bright
.
He
stood
and
looked
down
at
her
,
his
large
head
bent
and
the
stringy
muscles
of
his
neck
tight
along
the
sides
.
And
he
took
off
his
hat
and
held
it
in
his
hand
.
