The Grapes of Wrath Page #68

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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!

TOM:

They won't. They're a-gettin' five

an' they don't care about nothin'

else.

CASY:

But jus' the minute they ain't strike-

breakin' they won't get no five!

FRANK:

(bitterly)

An' the nex' thing you know you'll

be out, because they got it all

figgered down to a T--until the

harvest is in you're a *migrant*

worker--afterwards, just a bum.

TOM:

Five they're a-gettin' now, an' that's

all they're int'rested in. I know

exackly what Pa'd say. He'd jus' say

it wasn't none a his business.

CASY:

(reluctantly)

I guess that's right. Have to take a

beatin' before he'll know.

TOM:

We was outa food. Tonight we had

meat. Not much, but we had it. Think

Pa's gonna give up his meat on account

a other fellas? An' Rosasharn needs

milk. Think Ma's gonna starve that

baby jus' cause a bunch a fellas is

yellin' outside a gate?

CASY:

(sadly)

Got to learn, like I'm a-learnin'.

Don't know it right yet myself, but

I'm tryin' to fin' out. That's why I

can't ever be a preacher again.

Preacher got to *know*.

(Shaking his head)

I don't. I got to *ask*.

JOE:

(sticking his head in

tent)

I don't like it.

CASY:

What's the matter?

JOE:

Can't tell. Seems like I hear sump'n,

an' then I listen an' they ain't

nothin' to hear.

FRANK:

(rising)

'Tain't outa the question, y'know.

(He exits)

CASY:

All of us a little itchy. Cops been

tellin' us how they gonna beat us up

an' run us outa the country. Not

them reg'lar deppities, but them tin-

star fellas they got for guards.

(After a pause)

They figger I'm the leader because I

talk so much.

Frank's head sticks in the door. His voice is an excited

whisper.

FRANK:

Turn out that light an' come outside.

They's sump'n here.

Quickly Casy turns the light down and out. He gropes for the

door, followed by Tom and the other man.

IN FRONT OF THE TENT:

CASY:

(softly)

What is it?

FRANK:

I dunno. Listen.

There are night sounds but little else to be distinguished.

CASY:

Can't tell if you hear it or not.

You hear it, Tom?

TOM:

(softly)

I hear it. I think they's some guys

comin' this way, lots of 'em. We

better get outa here.

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