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Now
the
going
was
easy
,
and
all
the
legs
worked
,
and
the
shell
boosted
along
,
waggling
from
side
to
side
.
A
sedan
driven
by
a
forty
-
year
-
old
woman
approached
.
She
saw
the
turtle
and
swung
to
the
right
,
off
the
highway
,
the
wheels
screamed
and
a
cloud
of
dust
boiled
up
.
Two
wheels
lifted
for
a
moment
and
then
settled
.
The
car
skidded
back
onto
the
road
,
and
went
on
,
but
more
slowly
.
The
turtle
had
jerked
into
its
shell
,
but
now
it
hurried
on
,
for
the
highway
was
burning
hot
.
And
now
a
light
truck
approached
,
and
as
it
came
near
,
the
driver
saw
the
turtle
and
swerved
to
hit
it
.
His
front
wheel
struck
the
edge
of
the
shell
,
flipped
the
turtle
like
a
tiddly
-
wink
,
spun
it
like
a
coin
,
and
rolled
it
off
the
highway
.
The
truck
went
back
to
its
course
along
the
right
side
.
Lying
on
its
back
,
the
turtle
was
tight
in
its
shell
for
a
long
time
.
But
at
last
its
legs
waved
in
the
air
,
reaching
for
something
to
pull
it
over
.
Its
front
foot
caught
a
piece
of
quartz
and
little
by
little
the
shell
pulled
over
and
flopped
upright
.
The
wild
oat
head
fell
out
and
three
of
the
spearhead
seeds
stuck
in
the
ground
.
And
as
the
turtle
crawled
on
down
the
embankment
,
its
shell
dragged
dirt
over
the
seeds
.
The
turtle
entered
a
dust
road
and
jerked
itself
along
,
drawing
a
wavy
shallow
trench
in
the
dust
with
its
shell
The
old
humorous
eyes
looked
ahead
,
and
the
horny
beak
opened
a
little
.
His
yellow
toe
nails
slipped
a
fraction
in
the
dust
.
When
Joad
heard
the
truck
get
under
way
,
gear
climbing
up
to
gear
and
the
ground
throbbing
under
the
rubber
beating
of
the
tires
,
he
stopped
and
turned
about
and
watched
it
until
it
disappeared
.
When
it
was
out
of
sight
he
still
watched
the
distance
and
the
blue
air
-
shimmer
.
Thoughtfully
he
took
the
pint
from
his
pocket
,
unscrewed
the
metal
cap
,
and
sipped
the
whisky
delicately
,
running
his
tongue
inside
the
bottle
neck
,
and
then
around
his
lips
,
to
gather
in
any
flavor
that
might
have
escaped
him
.
He
said
experimentally
,
"
There
we
spied
a
nigger
—
"
and
that
was
all
he
could
remember
.
At
last
he
turned
about
and
faced
the
dusty
side
road
that
cut
off
at
right
angles
through
the
fields
.
The
sun
was
hot
,
and
no
wind
stirred
the
sifted
dust
.
The
road
was
cut
with
furrows
where
dust
had
slid
and
settled
back
into
the
wheel
tracks
.
Joad
took
a
few
steps
,
and
the
flourlike
dust
spurted
up
in
front
of
his
new
yellow
shoes
,
and
the
yellowness
was
disappearing
under
gray
dust
.
He
leaned
down
and
untied
the
laces
,
slipped
off
first
one
shoe
and
then
the
other
.
And
he
worked
his
damp
feet
comfortably
in
the
hot
dry
dust
until
little
spurts
of
it
came
up
between
his
toes
,
and
until
the
skin
on
his
feet
tightened
with
dryness
.
He
took
off
his
coat
and
wrapped
his
shoes
in
it
and
slipped
the
bundle
under
his
arm
.
And
at
last
he
moved
up
the
road
,
shooting
the
dust
ahead
of
him
,
making
a
cloud
that
hung
low
to
the
ground
behind
him
.
The
right
of
way
was
fenced
,
two
strands
of
barbed
wire
on
willow
poles
.
The
poles
were
crooked
and
badly
trimmed
.
Whenever
a
crotch
came
to
the
proper
height
the
wire
lay
in
it
,
and
where
there
was
no
crotch
the
barbed
wire
was
lashed
to
the
post
with
rusty
baling
wire
.
Beyond
the
fence
,
the
corn
lay
beaten
down
by
wind
and
heat
and
drought
,
and
the
cups
where
leaf
joined
stalk
were
filled
with
dust
.
Joad
plodded
along
,
dragging
his
cloud
of
dust
behind
him
.
A
little
bit
ahead
he
saw
the
high
-
domed
shell
of
a
land
turtle
,
crawling
slowly
along
through
the
dust
,
its
legs
working
stiffly
and
jerkily
.
Joad
stopped
to
watch
it
,
and
his
shadow
fell
on
the
turtle
.
Instantly
head
and
legs
were
withdrawn
and
the
short
thick
tail
clamped
sideways
into
the
shell
.
Joad
picked
it
up
and
turned
it
over
.
The
back
was
brown
-
gray
,
like
the
dust
,
but
the
underside
of
the
shell
was
creamy
yellow
,
clean
and
smooth
.
Joad
shifted
his
bundle
high
under
his
arm
and
stroked
the
smooth
undershell
with
his
finger
,
and
he
pressed
it
.
It
was
softer
than
the
back
.
The
hard
old
head
came
out
and
tried
to
look
at
the
pressing
finger
,
and
the
legs
waved
wildly
.
The
turtle
wetted
on
Joad
’
s
hand
and
struggled
uselessly
in
the
air
.
Joad
turned
it
back
upright
and
rolled
it
up
in
his
coat
with
his
shoes
.
He
could
feel
it
pressing
and
struggling
and
fussing
under
his
arm
.
He
moved
ahead
more
quickly
now
,
dragged
his
heels
a
little
in
the
fine
dust
.
Ahead
of
him
,
beside
the
road
,
a
scrawny
,
dusty
willow
tree
cast
a
speckled
shade
.
Joad
could
see
it
ahead
of
him
,
its
poor
branches
curving
over
the
way
,
its
load
of
leaves
tattered
and
scraggly
as
a
molting
chicken
.
Joad
was
sweating
now
.
His
blue
shirt
darkened
down
his
back
and
under
his
arms
.
He
pulled
at
the
visor
of
his
cap
and
creased
it
in
the
middle
,
breaking
its
cardboard
lining
so
completely
that
it
could
never
look
new
again
.
And
his
steps
took
on
new
speed
and
intent
toward
the
shade
of
the
distant
willow
tree
.
At
the
willow
he
knew
there
would
be
shade
,
at
least
one
hard
bar
of
absolute
shade
thrown
by
the
trunk
,
since
the
sun
had
passed
its
zenith
.
The
sun
whipped
the
back
of
his
neck
now
and
made
a
little
humming
in
his
head
.
He
could
not
see
the
base
of
the
tree
,
for
it
grew
out
of
a
little
swale
that
held
water
longer
than
the
level
places
.
Joad
speeded
his
pace
against
the
sun
,
and
he
started
down
the
declivity
.
He
slowed
cautiously
,
for
the
bar
of
absolute
shade
was
taken
.
A
man
sat
on
the
ground
,
leaning
against
the
trunk
of
the
tree
.
His
legs
were
crossed
and
one
bare
foot
extended
nearly
as
high
as
his
head
.
He
did
not
hear
Joad
approaching
,
for
he
was
whistling
solemnly
the
tune
of
"
Yes
,
Sir
,
That
’
s
My
Baby
.
"
His
extended
foot
swung
slowly
up
and
down
in
the
tempo
.
It
was
not
dance
tempo
.
He
stopped
whistling
and
sang
in
an
easy
thin
tenor
:
