ALBACORA 67 



I did some mental arithmetic involving the exchange 

 rate. "Twenty thousand pesos," I announced. "Why, 

 that's only two hundred American dollars. Why, 

 we . . ." 



From across the room, Lou anticipated me and 

 flashed a devastating look. I caught myself and let the 

 sentence hang. 



"Jo," I said. "I've been married to this man for 

 twenty-seven years, through good times and bad, but this 

 is the first time that I've ever seen him as he is. Lou has 

 a mean streak in him. Lou is a miser." 



"Nonsense, Genie," Lou said. "Two hundred dollars 

 is a fortune down here. If we gave it to Mario, there 

 would be a line outside this hotel in ten minutes, like 

 the lines that used to form when John D. Rockefeller 

 handed out dimes." 



"You see, Jo," I said. "He'll let Mario and all 

 Mario's people end up destitute in the street. I should 

 have suspected something like this." 



"The way to handle the situation," Lou said, "is the 

 way you handle any difficult problem. You make a busi- 

 ness proposition. Now, let's see what sounds reason- 

 able to both sides." 



Almost thinking aloud, Lou began to offer business 

 terms to Mario. "First," he said, "I'll double your 

 salary." Mario had been getting one dollar a day so 

 this was not as staggering a gesture as it sounds. But 

 neither was it miserly. In Iquique, a dollar a day goes 



