Page:The Cannery Boat.pdf/276

266 knife against one fellow who bullied me. The road I am taking now is not a mean, cowardly one like that. This work is work fit for men which I must give up my whole life to. It would please mother, too, I think.

“I’m not coming back to school. It will be some time before I’m able to meet you again, probably. I hope you’ll take care of yourself and study hard.

“One other thing—in the left-hand drawer of my desk you will find a white cocoon. It’s a funny sort of keepsake, but I’d like you to keep it in memory of my mother.”

That must have been ten years ago.

Whenever I see cocoons I am reminded of Yasuo Sakai. But there are few chances for me to see them, since I have become so completely a city-dweller, knowing that the autumn has come only by the patterns of grasses on fabrics in the shop-windows.

There is no need of cocoons to remind me of Sakai now. I, too, have joined the ranks of those he calls “Comrades.”