第1章 The Old Mans Hard Life[第2页/共8页]

“He is almost blind.”

“Eighty-five is a lucky number,”the old man said.“ How would you like to see me bring one in that dressed out over a thousand pounds?”

“No,”the old man said.“ But we have.Haven't we?”“Yes,”the boy said.“Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we'll take the stuff home.”

“I fear both the Tigers of Detroit and the Indians of Cleveland.

“Do you think we should buy a terminal of the lottery with an eighty-five?Tomorrow is the eighty-fifth day.”

“But I fear the Indians of Cleveland.”

“You study it and tell me when I come back.”

The boy did not know whether yesterday's paper was a fiction too.But the old man brought it out from under the bed.

“I would,”the boy said.“ But I bought these.”

“I know,”the old man said.“ It is quite normal.”

When the boy came back the old man was asleep in the chair and the sun was down.The boy took the old army blanket off the bed and spread it over the back of the chair and over the old man's shoulders.They were strange shoulders,still powerful although very old,and the neck was still strong too and the creases did not show so much when the old man was asleep and his head fallen forward.His shirt had been patched so many times that it was like the sail and the patches were faded to many different shades by the sun.The old man's head was very old though and with his eyes closed there was no life in his face.The newspaper lay across his knees and the weight of his arm held it there in the evening breeze. He was barefooted.