They considered it a stroke of good luck when they got an extra rice ball; it gave them a pleasant glow of satisfaction.
Handa was one of the hungry fellows, and went over to the fire, followed by Machida. Women and girls, dragging hungry-looking children, came over to help. One measured out the rice in a bowl and handed it to the next one, who sprinkled it with salt and then squeezed it tightly into a ball. Alongside stood the children, fingers in their mouths and cheeks all smudgy, looking on longingly. The whole scene was strange to Machida.
Gohei was gathering wood and dried leaves for the fire. He chopped up bits of the factory fence which had fallen down. Anything belonging to Uematsu that could be laid hands on, ought to be taken and used; such were Gohei’s sentiments, and Machida seconded them. Uematsu was the owner of this Uemaru Soy Company.
“Those palings that are still standing, knock them down and use them too,” said Machida.
Machida liked the way these soy workers managed to live in such surroundings, quite insensitive to all the filth and stench; their perseverance and economizing interested him. He hadn’t experienced such things before. He strove to become one of them. It was really fine to live with these workers, in dirty ragged clothes, regardless of filth and the bad food.
Gohei, who had been brought up and almost pickled in soy from childhood, was rather distant towards Machida.
