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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Стр. 507/563
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«
Evenin
’
.
»
«
Takin
’
somepin
out
,
Mis
’
Joad
?
»
«
They
’
s
a
frien
’
.
I
’
m
takin
’
back
some
bread
.
»
She
came
at
last
to
the
end
of
the
line
of
tents
.
She
stopped
and
looked
back
.
A
glow
of
light
was
on
the
camp
,
and
the
soft
overtone
of
a
multitude
of
speakers
.
Now
and
then
a
harsher
voice
cut
through
.
The
smell
of
smoke
filled
the
air
.
Someone
played
a
harmonica
softly
,
trying
for
an
effect
,
one
phrase
over
and
over
.
Ma
stepped
in
among
the
willows
beside
the
stream
.
She
moved
off
the
trail
and
waited
,
silently
,
listening
to
hear
any
possible
follower
.
A
man
walked
down
the
trail
toward
the
camp
,
boosting
his
suspenders
and
buttoning
his
jeans
as
he
went
.
Ma
sat
very
still
,
and
he
passed
on
without
seeing
her
.
She
waited
five
minutes
and
then
she
stood
up
and
crept
on
up
the
trail
beside
the
stream
.
She
moved
quietly
,
so
quietly
that
she
could
hear
the
murmur
of
the
water
above
her
soft
steps
on
the
willow
leaves
.
Trail
and
stream
swung
to
the
left
and
then
to
the
right
again
until
they
neared
the
highway
.
In
the
gray
starlight
she
could
see
the
embankment
and
the
black
round
hole
of
the
culvert
where
she
always
left
Tom
’
s
food
.
She
moved
forward
cautiously
,
thrust
her
package
into
the
hole
,
and
took
back
the
empty
tin
plate
which
was
left
there
.
She
crept
back
among
the
willows
,
forced
her
way
into
a
thicket
,
and
sat
down
to
wait
.
Through
the
tangle
she
could
see
the
black
hole
of
the
culvert
.
She
clasped
her
knees
and
sat
silently
.
In
a
few
moments
the
thicket
crept
to
life
again
.
The
field
mice
moved
cautiously
over
the
leaves
.
A
skunk
padded
heavily
and
unself
-
consciously
down
the
trail
,
carrying
a
faint
effluvium
with
him
.
And
then
a
wind
stirred
the
willows
delicately
,
as
though
it
tested
them
,
and
a
shower
of
golden
leaves
coasted
down
to
the
ground
.
Suddenly
a
gust
boiled
in
and
racked
the
trees
,
and
a
cricking
downpour
of
leaves
fell
.
Ma
could
feel
them
on
her
hair
and
on
her
shoulders
.
Over
the
sky
a
plump
black
cloud
moved
,
erasing
the
stars
.
The
fat
drops
of
rain
scattered
down
,
splashing
loudly
on
the
fallen
leaves
,
and
the
cloud
moved
on
and
unveiled
the
stars
again
.
Ma
shivered
.
The
wind
blew
past
and
left
the
thicket
quiet
,
but
the
rushing
of
the
trees
went
on
down
the
stream
.
From
back
at
the
camp
came
the
thin
penetrating
tone
of
a
violin
feeling
about
for
a
tune
.
Ma
heard
a
stealthy
step
among
the
leaves
far
to
her
left
,
and
she
grew
tense
.
She
released
her
knees
and
straightened
her
head
the
better
to
hear
.
The
movement
stopped
,
and
after
a
long
moment
began
again
.
A
vine
rasped
harshly
on
the
dry
leaves
.
Ma
saw
a
dark
figure
creep
into
the
open
and
draw
near
to
the
culvert
.
The
black
round
hole
was
obscured
for
a
moment
,
and
then
the
figure
moved
back
.
She
called
softly
,
«
Tom
!
»
The
figure
stood
still
,
so
still
,
so
low
to
the
ground
that
it
might
have
been
a
stump
.
She
called
again
,
«
Tom
,
oh
,
Tom
!
»
Then
the
figure
moved
.
«
That
you
,
Ma
?
»
«
Right
over
here
.
»
She
stood
up
and
went
to
meet
him
.
«
You
shouldn
’
of
came
,
"
he
said
.
«
I
got
to
see
you
,
Tom
.
I
got
to
talk
to
you
.
»
«
It
’
s
near
the
trail
,
"
he
said
.
«
Somebody
might
come
by
.
»
