The migrants would work for low wages. They would work for food. And this was good because wages went down and prices stayed up. The landowners were glad and they sent out more handbills to bring more people in. And now the great owners and companies bought the little farms.

It was late when Tom Joad drove along a country road looking for the Weedpatch camp. There were few lights in the countryside. Ma had been sleeping in the seat and Pa had been quiet for a long time. Tom saw a sign and then stopped. A high wire fence faced the road. Tom got out and asked the guard, "Do you have any room here for us?"

"I have one place left. Drive down to the end of that line. You'll be in Unit Four." Tom drove slowly down the long dark row of tents. "Park here," the guard said.

Al jumped off the truck and walked around. Tom said, "You and Pa unload while I go to the office."

Tom followed the guard through the dark to the office. The guard sat down at a desk and took out a form. While Tom filled in the form, the guard explained, "The camp costs a dollar a week but you can work instead, carrying garbage, keeping the camp clean - stuff like that."

"We'll work," Tom said.

"You'll see the committee tomorrow. They'll show you how to use the camp and tell you the rules."

Tom said, "What committee is this?"

The guard sat back in his chair. "It works pretty nice. There are five units. Each unit elects a central committee and that committee makes the laws."

"Do you mean there ain't any cops?"

"No cops. No cop can come in here without a reason. Now you go get some sleep."

"Good night," said Tom.

"Good night," said the guard.

Tom returned to the truck and climbed into the back. He lay down on his back on the wooden floor. The night grew cooler. Tom buttoned his coat over his chest. The stars were clear and sharp over his head.

It was dark when he awoke. The sound of a cooking pan scratching across a stove woke him. Tom looked down the line of tents and saw a small orange light outside one of them. Then, he saw a girl working around the stove. He climbed out of the truck and moved closer. He smelled frying bacon and baking-bread.

"Good morning," she said and turned the bacon in the pan. Then, two men appeared.

"Morning," said the older man.

"Good morning," said Tom.

And then the younger man said, "Morning."

Now the older man said to Tom, "Have you had any breakfast yet?"

"Well, no, I ain't. But my folks are over there. They ain't up. Need the sleep."

"Well, sit down with us. We have plenty - thank God."