“Tiburon,”the waiter said,“Eshark.”He was meaning to explain what had happened.
The boy did not go down.He had been there before and one of the fishermen was looking after the skiff for him.
“I didn't know sharks had such handsome,beautifully formed tails.”
“The hell with luck,”the boy said.“I'll bring the luck with me.”
“What a fish it was,”the proprietor said.“There has never been such a fish.Those were two fine fish you took yesterday too.”
“Plenty,”the old man said.
“You keep it if you want it.”
“No.Afterwards I will see what he can eat.”
He was asleep when the boy looked in the door in the morning.It was blowing so hard that the drifting-boats would not be going out and the boy had slept late and then come to the old man's shack as he had come each morning.The boy saw that the old man was breathing and then he saw the old man's hands and he started to cry.He went out very quietly to go to bring some coffee and all the way down the road he was crying.
“They beat me, Manolin,”he said.“They truly beat me.”
“Nothing,”he said aloud.“ I went out too far.”
Finally he put the mast down and stood up.He picked the mast up and put it on his shoulder and started up the road.He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack.
Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again.He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him.The old man was dreaming about the lions.