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- Джон Стейнбек
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Floyd
said
,
«
The
hell
!
»
«
Sure
—
’
How
’
d
you
like
to
drive
her
?
’
Well
,
hell
,
I
got
on
jeansall
dirty
.
I
says
,
’
I
’
d
get
her
dirty
.
’
’
Come
on
!
’
he
says
.
’
Jus
’
take
her
roun
’
the
block
.
’
Well
,
sir
,
I
set
in
that
seat
an
’
I
took
her
roun
’
the
block
eight
times
,
an
’
,
oh
,
my
God
Almighty
!
»
«
Nice
?
»
Floyd
asked
.
«
Oh
,
Jesus
!
»
said
Al
.
«
If
I
could
of
tore
her
down
,
why
—
I
’
d
a
giveanythin
’
.
»
Floyd
slowed
his
jerking
arm
.
He
lifted
the
last
valve
from
its
seat
and
looked
at
it
.
«
You
better
git
use
’
ta
a
jalopy
,
"
he
said
,
«
’
cause
you
ain
’
t
goin
’
a
drive
no
16
.
»
He
put
his
brace
down
on
the
running
board
and
took
up
a
chisel
to
scrape
the
crust
from
the
block
.
Two
stocky
women
,
bare
-
headed
and
bare
-
footed
,
went
by
carrying
a
bucket
of
milky
water
between
them
.
They
limped
against
the
weight
of
the
bucket
,
and
neither
one
looked
up
from
the
ground
.
The
sun
was
half
down
in
afternoon
.
Al
said
,
«
You
don
’
t
like
nothin
’
much
.
»
Floyd
scraped
harder
with
the
chisel
.
«
I
been
here
six
months
,
"
he
said
.
«
I
been
scrabblin
’
over
this
here
State
tryin
’
to
work
hard
enough
and
move
fast
enough
to
get
meat
an
’
potatoes
for
me
an
’
my
wife
an
’
my
kids
.
I
’
ve
run
myself
like
a
jackrabbit
an
’
—
I
can
’
t
quite
make
her
.
There
just
ain
’
t
quite
enough
to
eat
no
matter
what
I
do
.
I
’
m
gettin
’
tired
,
that
’
s
all
.
I
’
m
gettin
’
tired
way
past
where
sleep
rests
me
.
An
’
I
jus
’
don
’
know
what
to
do
.
»
«
Ain
’
t
there
no
steady
work
for
a
fella
?
»
Al
asked
.
«
No
,
they
ain
’
t
no
steady
work
.
»
With
his
chisel
he
pushed
the
crust
off
the
block
,
and
he
wiped
the
dull
metal
with
a
greasy
rag
.
A
rusty
touring
car
drove
down
into
the
camp
and
there
were
four
men
in
it
,
men
with
brown
hard
faces
.
The
car
drove
slowly
through
the
camp
.
Floyd
called
to
them
,
«
Any
luck
?
»
