"Keep the blanket around you," the boy said. "You'll not fish without eating while I'm alive." "Then live a long time and take care of yourself," the old man said, "What are we eating?" "Black beans and rice, fried bananas, and some stew." The boy had brought them in a two-decker metal container from the Terrace. The two sets of knives and forks and spoons were in his pocket with a paper napkin wrapped around each set. "Who gave this to you?" "Martin. The owner." "I must thank him."

The boy left him there and when he came back the old man was still asleep. "Wake up old man," the boy said and put his hand on one of the old man's knees. The old man opened his eyes and for a moment he was coming back from a long way away. Then he smiled. "What have you got?" he asked. "Supper," said the boy. "We're going to have supper." "I'm not very hungry." "Come on and eat. You can't fish and not eat. "I have," the old man said getting up and taking the newspaper and folding it. Then he started to fold the blanket.

"I thanked him already," the boy said. "You don't need to thank him." "I'll give him the belly meat of a big fish," the old man said. "Has he done this for us more than once?" "I think so." "I must give him something more than the belly meat then. He is very thoughtful for us." "He sent two beers." "I like the beer in cans best." "I know. But this is in bottles, Hatuey beer, and I take back the bottles." "That's very kind of you," the old man said. "Should we eat?"

"I've been asking you to," the boy told him gently. "I have not wished to open the container until you were ready." "I'm ready now," the old man said. "I only needed time to wash." Where did you wash? The boy thought. The village water supply was two streets down the road. I must have water here for him, the boy thought, and soap and a good towel. Why am I so thoughtless? I must get him another shirt and a jacket for the winter and some sort of shoes and another blanket. "Your stew is excellent," the old man said.

"Tell me about the baseball," the boy asked him. "In the American League it is the Yankees as I said," the old man said happily. "They lost today," the boy told him. "That means nothing. The great DiMaggio is himself again." "They have other men on the team." "Naturally. But he makes the difference. In the other league, between Brooklyn and Philadelphia I must take Brooklyn. But then I think of Dick Sisler and those great drives in the old park." "There was nothing ever like them. He hits the longest ball I have ever seen."