Kenneth Bernoska

22%
Flag icon
“Don’t yell,’’ said Tom. “Let’s creep up on ’em, like,’’ and he walked so fast that the dust rose as high as his waist. And then he came to the edge of the cotton field. Now they were in the yard proper, earth beaten hard, shiny hard, and a few dusty crawling weeds on the ground. And Joad slowed as though he feared to go on. The preacher, watching him, slowed to match his step. Tom sauntered forward, sidled embarrassedly toward the truck. It was a Hudson Super-Six1 sedan, and the top had been ripped in two with a cold chisel. Old Tom Joad stood in the truck bed and he was nailing on the top ...more
The Grapes of Wrath
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview