The Northwest times. [volume] (Seattle, Wash.) 1947-1955, 1947-03-25

reSOunded tnr0uen the frelgnJ car
ard mingled monotonously with
the stencil of straw and manure.
Jiro sat silently in the dark cor
ner, waiting for the train to slow
down some more. He listened pa
tiently..
The steady clicking gradually sub
sided in pitch and rapidity till one
could almost count them as they
duly picked their way over the
rails.
Jiro got up, feeling the soreness
in his bones. Funny how he could
never get used to sleeping in box
cars without getting sore all over.
After all. he had been riding them
for three years.
He picked up his old suitcase and
felt the straps to see that they
secure. He hadn't much to lose but,
still. it was all he had.
He walked over to the center Of
the car and slid the door open a
little ways. shivering as the first
gust of cold air struck him in the
face.
He slowly eascd his head out and
glanced up and down the yard. No
one was in sight. Suitcase in one
hand, he leaped clear of the train
to the ground, landing on his good
right leg, then falling back on the
bad one.
He limped across the yard. taking
his time and trying to feel little
warmth in the weak rays of the
dying autumn sun. He marvelled at
his sensitivity to the cold when he
thought how much like winter he
really was.
He labored over the steep bank at
the edge of the yard and stepped
out on the broad dirt street which
was the main drag from the looks
of the town, if one could call II
such. He certainly would have rode
on to larger place If he WASN'T
hungry.
The street was empty except fo
n car or two and a group of kid
shooting marbles across the stree
from the drug store. They seemed
to be having a good time in spit
> OF the cold and the dirt in which
they crawled on all fours.
Jiro walked towards the marbl
players thinking he might watcl
them for while and maybe ask
few questions They might know
place where a guy could get some
thing to eat.
He approached them slowly, sens
ing the way his leg dragged, the
changed his mind and cut diagonal
ly across the street. He quickene
his pace as best he could, hopin
that the kids wouldn't see him. H
kept his eyes straight ahead, push
ing his bad leg along like it wa
something he couldn't decide whit
ther to keep or throw away.
The marbles stopped. the yellir
ceased. Jiro felt the anger rus
wildly to his face. The kids wei
watching him, they always did. F
wheeled around and caught the
inquisitive stares.
What the hell are you lookir
at?"
'Nuthin', mister. We're onl
shootin megs."
You lying devils. ought to k
every damn one of you"
Jiro stumbled along awkward
as if in fog. knowing that the a
ger would pass. He would not be 1
gretful. He never was He'd or
feel the cold slab OF stone that fill
his chest constantly.
He reached the door of the sm
cafe which boosted home cook
meals in sloppy white letters acre
the glass window. A neon sign owe
hanging the board sidewalk simE
stated "Jim's Cafe"
Jiro opened the squeakins dc
and walked to the farthest stool
the counter, hardly noticing til
the place was empty.
The kitchen door swung open a
burly individual in white apr
came out.
"Evenin', mister" ne said wi
practiced cheerfulness, "whatn y
have2"
IT won't. I'm broke"
Then what the hell are you do
in here?"
II want to talk to jim
Jim who?"
1.-The guy who runs this pla
This is Jim's Cafe, isnt?"
What are you? A wise guy?"
mo, I'm hungry"
1--WE don't give handouts to blu
like you"
Jiro remained silent, as if pond
ing over some weighty problem,
his face revealed nc shame or q
ger. Finally, he spoke.
Couldn't you let me work 1t ou
what can you do?"
Most anything around rests
rant. My dad used to run one"
Maybe I could use you. Whs
your name?"
"Jiro. Jiro Nakamura."
Where you from?"
Nowhere and everywhere"