Once a guard, thinking he heard a noise, called, “Who’s there?”
Tom dropped and froze to the ground, and the flashlight beam passed over him. He crept silently to the door of the Joad house. The door squalled on its hinges. And Ma’s voice, calm and steady and wide awake:
“What’s that?”
“Me, Tom.”
“Well, you better get some sleep. Al ain’t in yet.”
“He must a foun’ a girl.”
“Go on to sleep,” she said softly. “Over under the window.”
He found his place and took off his clothes to the skin. He lay shivering under his blanket. And his torn face awakened from its numbness, and his whole head throbbed.
It was an hour more before Al came in. He moved cautiously near and stepped on Tom’s wet clothes. “Sh!” said Tom. Al whispered, “You awake? How’d you get wet?”
“Sh,” said Tom. “Tell you in the mornin’.” Pa turned on his back, and his snoring filled the room with gasps and snorts. “You’re col’,” Al said. “Sh. Go to sleep.” The little square of the window showed gray against the black of the room.