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- Джон Стейнбек
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«
Come
on
.
We
can
’
t
go
’
less
you
go
.
»
«
Go
ri
’
’
long
.
I
ain
’
t
no
good
.
I
ain
’
t
no
good
.
Jus
’
a
-
draggin
’
my
sins
,
a
-
dirtyin
’
ever
’
body
.
»
«
You
got
no
more
sin
’
n
anybody
else
.
»
John
put
his
head
close
,
and
he
winked
one
eye
wisely
.
Tom
could
see
his
face
dimly
in
the
starlight
.
«
Nobody
don
’
know
my
sins
,
nobody
but
Jesus
.
He
knows
.
»
Tom
got
down
on
his
knees
.
He
put
his
hand
on
Uncle
John
’
s
forehead
,
and
it
was
hot
and
dry
.
John
brushed
his
hand
away
clumsily
.
«
Come
on
,
"
Tom
pleaded
.
«
Come
on
now
,
Uncle
John
.
»
«
Ain
’
t
goin
’
go
.
Jus
’
tar
’
d
.
Gon
’
res
’
ri
’
here
.
Ri
’
here
.
»
Tom
was
very
close
.
He
put
his
fist
against
the
point
of
Uncle
John
’
s
chin
.
He
made
a
small
practice
arc
twice
,
for
distance
;
and
then
,
with
his
shoulder
in
the
swing
,
he
hit
the
chin
a
delicate
perfect
blow
.
John
’
s
chin
snapped
up
and
he
fell
backwards
and
tried
to
sit
up
again
.
But
Tom
was
kneeling
over
him
and
as
John
got
one
elbow
up
Tom
hit
him
again
.
Uncle
John
lay
still
on
the
ground
.
Tom
stood
up
and
,
bending
,
he
lifted
the
loose
sagging
body
and
boosted
it
over
his
shoulder
.
He
staggered
under
the
loose
weight
.
John
’
s
hanging
hands
tapped
him
on
the
back
as
he
went
,
slowly
,
puffing
up
the
bank
to
the
highway
.
Once
a
car
came
by
and
lighted
him
with
the
limp
man
over
his
shoulder
.
The
car
slowed
for
a
moment
and
then
roared
away
.
Tom
was
panting
when
he
came
back
to
the
Hooverville
,
down
from
the
road
and
to
the
Joad
truck
.
John
was
coming
to
;
he
struggled
weakly
.
Tom
set
him
gently
down
on
the
ground
.
