ALBACORA 65 



cited and trailed by a strange procession of humanity. 

 Mario and Gus were brothers. With them this time were 

 four small children and one little woman, not much 

 bigger than a child herself, who was obviously the 

 mother of the nifios. For a moment I wondered about 

 relationships, but soon it was very clear that Gus was 

 unmarried and that this was Mario's family. He had 

 gotten halfway through with the introductions when Jo 

 arrived. Mario stopped, beamed and waited. 



"I hear you caught a fish, Jo," I began. 



"Si," Mario interrupted enthusiastically. "Marlina. 

 Grande mar Una," 



"I think there should be a prize for Mrs. Manning," 

 I said. 



Mario nodded violently. His wife and his four chil- 

 dren nodded, too. Gus merely smiled and looked con- 

 fused. 



"Step forward, Jo," I said. 



Jo grinned. She saw what was coming. "For catching 

 a record marlin off Iquique," I announced, "we proudly 

 present you with this valuable trophy." I offered Jo the 

 soap. 



"I am speechless," Jo said, stiffly, "and very 

 touched." Mario's grin was enormous. The grins on the 

 faces of his wife and children were enormous, too. 



If I had let it go with smiling back at Mario, all 

 might have been well, but I soon committed a social 

 error. Thinking of the barren little houses I had seen on 



