68 ALBACORA 



a long way and puts one well up in the middle class. 

 "Then," Lou said, "to make sure you keep on the job, 

 I'll give you all the fish we catch. From now on all of 

 the money the fish are worth, after Mr. Rivas is done 

 with them, goes to you. You are now a capitalist. You'll 

 own your own home inside of a month." 



Lou, of course, kept talking, mixing a few Italian 

 words he knew with English until the boys somehow 

 understood exactly what he meant. Then Mario extended 

 his hand, Lou shook it and Mario started laughing. Then 

 Gus, the woman and the four nifios started laughing, 

 too. After a while, Mario began singing a Chilean song, 

 in a voice which made up in enthusiasm what it lacked 

 in quality. Gus and the women and the children all 

 sang along with Mario. The noise was thunderous, but 

 none of us had the heart to ask them to be quiet. Then 

 someone rapped heavily on the door and we had the 

 silence that we wanted. "The manager," I said. "Now 

 we'll all catch it for sure." 



When the door opened the biggest Chilean I had ever 

 seen filled the doorway. "Hi, Mario," he announced, 

 ignoring Lou, Jo and me. "Hi, Gus." 



"What's this," Lou asked, a little loudly. 



"I am called Carlos," the Chilean boy said. "I want 

 to work for you, please. I help Mario and Gus because 

 I speak much English." He grinned, exposing three — 

 and only three — large white teeth. "It is two years I 



