The Grapes of Wrath Page #28

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IN THE RANCH STREET. There is a faint moonlight, but not

much, and little sound from the other houses as Tom strolls

down the street.

NEAR THE GATE:
beyond, cars pass. As Tom approaches the gate

a flashlight plays on his face suddenly and a guard rises

from a box.

GUARD:

Where you think you're going?

TOM:

Thought I'd take a walk. Any law

against it?

GUARD:

Well, you just turn around and walk

the other way.

TOM:

You mean I can't even get outa here?

GUARD:

Not tonight you can't. Want to walk

back?--or you want me to whistle up

some help and take you back?

TOM:

I'll walk back.

The guard watches him as he walks back and then douses his

flashlight.

At a SECTION OF WIRE FENCE, watching his chance, moving

silently, Tom drops on the ground, on his back, gets his

head under the bottom wire, and pushes himself under and

outside. Rising, he crosses the paved highway.

AN EMBANKMENT across the road from the wire fence: Tom

clambers down it, moving quietly. He picks his way down the

shallow ravine.

A TENT:
there is a light inside and there are the shadows of

figures. In the background, beyond the tent, is the silhouette

of a small concrete bridge spanning a small stream. Following

a trail, Tom enters and approaches the tent. (The opening is

away from him.) IN FRONT OF THE TENT, a man sitting on a box

looks up suspiciously as Tom enters. His name is Joe.

TOM:

Evenin'.

JOE:

Who are you?

TOM:

Jus' goin' pas', that's all.

JOE:

Know anybody here?

TOM:

No. Jus' goin' pas', I tell you.

A head sticks out of the tent. Until he speaks, Tom does not

recognize Casy.

CASY:

What's the matter?

TOM:

Casy! What you doin' here?

CASY:

Well, if it ain't Tom Joad. How ya,

boy?

TOM:

Thought you was in jail.

CASY:

No, I done my time an' got out. Come

on in.

(He pulls Tom into

the tent.)

INSIDE THE TENT, three other men sit on the ground as Casy

brings Tom in. One's name is Frank.

FRANK:

This the fella you been talkin' about?

CASY:

This is him. What you doin' here,

Tommy?

TOM:

Workin'. Pickin' peaches. But I seen

a bunch a fellas yellin' when we

come in, so I come out to see what's

goin' on. What's it all about?

FRANK:

This here's a strike.

TOM:

(puzzled)

Well, fi' cents a box ain't much,

but a fella can eat.

FRANK:

Fi' cents! They pain' you fi' cents?

TOM:

Sure. We made a buck since midday.

CASY:

(after a long silence)

Lookie, Tom. We come to work here.

They tell us it's gonna be fi' cents.

But they was a whole lot of us, so

the man says two an' a half cents.

Well, a fella can't even eat on that,

an' if he got kids...

(After a pause)

So we says we won't take it. So they

druv us off. Now they're payin' you

five--but when they bust this strike

ya think they'll pay five?

TOM:

I dunno. Payin' five now.

CASY:

(soberly)

I don't expeck we can las' much longer--

some a the folks ain't et for two

days. You goin' back tonight?

TOM:

I aim to.

CASY:

(earnestly)

Well--tell the folks inside how it

is, Tom. Tell 'em they're starvin'

us and stabbin' theirself in the

back. An' as sure as God made little

apples it's goin' back to two an' a

half jus' as soon as they clear us

out.

FRANK:

(suddenly)

You hear sump'n?

They listen. Then:

TOM:

I'll tell 'em. But I don't know how.

Never seen so many guys with guns.

Wouldn't even let us talk today.

CASY:

Try an' tell 'em, Tom. They'll get

two an' a half, jus' the minute we're

gone. An' you know what that is?

That's one ton a peaches picked an'

carried for a dollar. That way you

can't even buy food enough to keep

you alive! Tell 'em to come out with

us, Tom! Them peaches is *ripe*. Two

days out an' they'll pay *all* of us

five!

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