Well, what they doin’ there?
Now stick to her for a second, Muley.
Jus’ stick to her. In jus’ a minute you can go on your own way.
What they doin’ there?”
“Well, they been choppin’ cotton, all of ’em, even the kids an’ your grampa.
Gettin’ money together so they can shove on west.
Gonna buy a car and shove on west where it’s easy livin’.
There ain’t nothin’ here.
Fifty cents a clean acre for choppin’ cotton, an’ folks beggin’ for the chance to chop.”
“An’ they ain’t gone yet?”
“No,” said Muley. “Not that I know.
Las’ I heard was four days ago when I seen your brother Noah out shootin’ jack-rabbits, an’ he says they’re aimin’ to go in about two weeks.
John got his notice he got to get off.
You jus’ go on about eight miles to John’s place.
You’ll find your folks piled in John’s house like gophers in a winter burrow.”
“O.K.” said Joad. “Now you can ride on your own way.
You ain’t changed a bit, Muley.
If you want to tell about somepin off northwest, you point your nose straight south-east.”
Muley said truculently,
“You ain’t changed neither.
You was a smart-aleck kid, an’ you’re still a smart aleck.
You ain’t tellin’ me how to skin my life, by any chancet?”
Joad grinned.
“No, I ain’t.
If you wanta drive your head into a pile a broken glass, there ain’t nobody can tell you different.
You know this here preacher, don’t you, Muley?
Rev. Casy.”
“Why, sure, sure.
Didn’t look over. Remember him well.”
Casy stood up and the two shook hands.
“Glad to see you again,” said Muley.
“You ain’t been aroun’ for a hell of a long time.”
“I been off a-askin’ questions,” said Casy. “What happened here?
Why they kickin’ folks off the lan’?”
Muley’s mouth snapped shut so tightly that a little parrot’s beak in the middle of his upper lip stuck down over his under lip.
He scowled.
“Them sons-a-bitches,” he said.
“Them dirty sons-a-bitches.
I tell ya, men, I’m stayin’.
They ain’t gettin’ rid a me.
If they throw me off, I’ll come back, an’ if they figger I’ll be quiet underground, why, I’ll take couple-three of the sons-a-bitches along for company.” He patted a heavy weight in his side coat pocket. “I ain’t a-goin’.
My pa come here fifty years ago.
An’ I ain’t a-goin’.”
Joad said,
“What’s the idear of kickin’ the folks off?”
“Oh!
They talked pretty about it.
You know what kinda years we been havin’.
Dust comin’ up an’ spoilin’ ever’thing so a man didn’t get enough crop to plug up an ant’s ass.
An’ ever’body got bills at the grocery.