Joad unrolled his new yellow shoes from his coat, and he brushed his dusty feet with his hand before he slipped them on. The preacher, staring off across the fields, said, “Somebody’s comin’. Look! Down there, right through the cotton.’’ Joad looked where Casy’s finger pointed. “Comin’ afoot,’’ he said. “Can’t see ’im for the dust he raises. Who the hell’s comin’ here?’’ They watched the figure approaching in the evening light, and the dust it raised was reddened by the setting sun.
