ALBACORA 145 



"Luis," I said slyly, "have you ever hooked an alba- 



cora 



Luis was crouched near my chair in the stern, work- 

 ing with his calipers over the torso of a marlin. "No," 

 he answered without looking up. "I never have." 



"How come?" I asked. 



"Oh, you know," Luis said. "Around Florida you 

 don't find albacora the way you do around here." He 

 did not stop poking about the dead fish. 



"What about striped marlin?" I asked. 



Rivas turned away from the fish. "Look," he said, 

 "I have a heavy schedule of lecturing and lab work at 

 the university. It doesn't leave me much time to fish. 

 Chemists don't dig for chemicals themselves, do they? 

 Atomic scientists don't mine their own uranium. I study 

 fish; I let other people catch them." 



"How about taking some time off?" I said. "How 

 about going for a striper now?" 



Luis dropped his calipers on the desk. 



"That's a helluva idea," said Howard Thuet, who 

 had been standing close by. "Why not go for a striper, 

 Luis?" 



"Sure," Rivas said. "That's a good idea. Maybe I 

 ought to bring one in just so I can stop all this noise." 



"Help me up, Luis," I said. "You can have my 

 chair." 



"Use Genie's fifty-pound-test outfit," Howard said. 



Rivas moved into my seat and I hobbled to the tran- 

 som. When I turned around, I spotted Walt Gorman 



