“Folks is their own cops.”
Casy looked up excitedly. “An’ was they any trouble? Fightin’, stealin’, drinkin’?”
“No,” said Tom.
“Well, if a fella went bad—what then? What’d they do?”
“Put ’im outa the camp.”
“But they wasn’ many?”
“Hell, no,” said Tom. “We was there a month, an’ on’y one.”
Casy’s eyes shone with excitement. He turned to the other men. “Ya see?” he cried. “I tol’ you. Cops cause more trouble than they stop. Look, Tom. Try an’ get the folks in there to come on out. They can do it in a couple days. Them peaches is ripe. Tell ’em.”
“They won’t,” said Tom. “They’re a-gettin’ five, an’ they don’ give a damn about nothin’ else.”
“But jus’ the minute they ain’t strikebreakin’ they won’t get no five.”