“Yeah. I guess that’s what he looked like.”
“We jus’ picked him up on the way in. He went away this mornin’ when the rate dropped.”
“What did he look like again?”
“Short fella. Pale face.”
“Was he bruised up this mornin’?”
“I didn’ see nothin’,” said Al. “Is the gas pump open?”
“Yeah, till eight.”
“Git in,” Al cried. “If we’re gonna get to Weedpatch ’fore mornin’ we gotta ram on. Gettin’ in front, Ma?”
“No, I’ll set in back,” she said. “Pa, you set back here too. Let Rosasharn set in front with Al’ an’ Uncle John.”
“Give me the work slip, Pa,” said Al. “I’ll get gas an’ change if I can.” The guard watched them pull along the street and turn left to the gasoline pumps. “Put in two,” said Al. “You ain’t goin’ far.”