“It was papa made me leave.I am a boy and I must obey him.”
“Two,”the boy said.
The old man looked at him with his sunburned, confident loving eyes.
“I would,”the boy said.“ But I bought these.”
“Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?”“No.Go and play baseball.I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net.”
“Let me get four fresh ones.”
“I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over me.”
“He does not like to work too far out.”
“I fear both the Tigers of Detroit and the Indians of Cleveland.
“Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current,”he said.
“How old was I when you first took me in a boat?”
“Yes. I have yesterday's paper and I will read the baseball.”
“Do you think we should buy a terminal of the lottery with an eighty-five?Tomorrow is the eighty-fifth day.”
“I'll try to get him to work far out,”the boy said.“ Then if you hook something truly big we can come to your aid.”
“I'll be back when I have the sardines.I'll keep yours and mine together on ice and we can share them in the morning. When I come back you can tell me about the baseball.”