THE COP
Before we gave ourselves up to the state, the blind boy and I wrapped the passkeys to the railway wagons in an old piece of tar paper we found and hid them under a prominent house, painted blue, not far from the police station. We hid them safely, placing them on a pillar stone after moving aside the board that covered it. We would take them back in spring. I took the slingshot apart, placing the rubber band in my pants, and attached the tinderbox to my leg. After these preparations, we presented ourselves to the police. To the man on duty I confessed that I had run away from the Omsk orphanage, and that I was headed to my mother in Leningrad. On my journey, I had met the blind boy Mitka on the train – he was with me now. When the weather got cold, he had become tormented by a cou
