In Kansas and Arkansas, in Oklahoma and Texas and New Mexico, the tractors moved in and pushed the tenants out. Three hundred thousand in California and more coming. And in California there was a Hooverville on the edge of every town. The tiny town lay close to the water and the houses were tents and large boxes, a great trash pile.

The family, on top of the load, the children and Connie and Rosasharn and the preacher, were stiff and uncomfortable. They had sat in the heat in front of the coroner's office in Bakersfield while Pa and Ma and Uncle John went in. Al and Tom walked along the street and looked into the store windows. Then a basket was brought out and Grandma was lifted down from the truck.

At last Pa and Ma and Uncle John came out, and they were quiet. Pa looked at Ma and said, "There wasn't anything else we could do. We didn't have enough money."

"I know," Ma said. "But she always wanted a nice funeral."

"Where are we going?" Tom asked.

Pa raised his hat and scratched his head. "Camp," he said. "We ain't going to spend our last few dollars until we get work. Drive out in the country."

Tom started the car and they rolled through the streets and out toward the country. And by a bridge they saw a group of tents and large boxes. Tom said, "Why don't we stop here? We can find out where work is." He drove down to the edge of the camp.

There was no order in the camp. Little gray tents, houses made of boxes and rusted metal. A group of boxes lay about, boxes to sit on, to eat on. Tom stopped the truck and looked at Pa. "It ain't pretty," he said. "Do you want to go someplace else?"

Pa said, "We have to ask about work." Tom opened the door and stepped out, as the family climbed down from the load and looked curiously at the camp. A young man was working on an old car. He looked over at the Joad's truck. Pa said, "Could we camp here?"

"Sure, why not. Have you folks just come across?"

"Yeah," said Tom. "We just got in this morning."

"Have you never been in Hooverville before?"

"Where's Hooverville?"

"This is it."

"Oh!" said Tom. "We just got in."

Ma said, "Let's get the camp up. I'm tired. Maybe we can all rest." Pa and Uncle John climbed up on the truck to unload the tent and the bed.

The young man said to Tom, "But you can't stay too long. If you just stay in one camp, you'll see how quick a sheriff will push you along."

"But what for?"