Since night was falling fast over the river land, Jim thought to finish up his session of remembering. So far he had settled nothing. Still seeking to find the lodestone that would be the key to all of his hatred, he realized he had failed in his efforts to clear his mind so he could live out the rest of his short days with his family in peace.

There was still enough light for him to see through the gloom that the raging water was undermining the bank. Within at least three hours, it should fall into the racing stream.

Resting his head against the cottonwood, he closed his eyes to remember. Instead of remembering, he carefully pulled his line in. Stumbling in the approaching darkness, he cast out over the overhang of cliff that was about to fall into the water. He did not bother to bait his hook which swished when it fell into the raging water.

At first, he thought to hold the quivering rod. His hand grew tired before he went back into time again to where his other family had dwelt in Korea. Now, he knew there was only a single grave on a point of land overlooking the valley below. He anchored the fishing pole against a rotten stump left from some zealous farmer trying to destroy all trees and bushes along the river.

More pressing than why he was unable to live with his people, was the issue of what he thought about Communism. It was something he thought was dangerous, but could the United States go around all over the world putting out brushfires?