She got to her feet. “You ain’t goin’. We’re a-takin’ you. Al, you back the truck against the door. Now, I got it figgered out. We’ll put one mattress on the bottom, an’ then Tom gets quick there, an’ we take another mattress an’ sort of fold it so it makes a cave, an’ he’s in the cave; and then we sort of wall it in. He can breathe out the end, ya see. Don’t argue. That’s what we’ll do.”
Pa complained, “Seems like the man ain’t got no say no more. She’s jus’ a heller. Come time we get settled down, I’m a-gonna smack her.”
“Come that time, you can,” said Ma. “Roust up, Al. It’s dark enough.”
Al went outside to the truck. He studied the matter and backed up near the steps. Ma said, “Quick now. Git that mattress in!” Pa and Uncle John flung it over the end gate. “Now that one.” They tossed the second mattress up. “Now—Tom, you jump up there an’ git under. Hurry up.”
Tom climbed quickly, and dropped. He straightened one mattress and pulled the second on top of him. Pa bent it upwards, stood it sides up, so that the arch covered Tom. He could see out between the side-boards of the truck. Pa and Al and Uncle John loaded quickly, piled the blankets on top of Tom’s cave, stood the buckets against the sides, spread the last mattress behind. Pots and pans, extra clothes, went in loose, for their boxes had been burned. They were nearly finished loading when a guard moved near, carrying his shotgun across his crooked arm.
“What’s goin’ on here?” he asked. “We’re goin’ out,” said Pa. “What for?”
“Well—we got a job offered—good job.”
“Yeah? Where’s it at?”
“Why—down by Weedpatch.”
“Let’s have a look at you.” He turned a flashlight in Pa’s face, in Uncle John’s, and in Al’s. “Wasn’t there another fella with you?” Al said, “You mean that hitch-hiker? Little short fella with a pale face?”