“Takeagoodrest，smallbird，”hesaid.“Thengoinandtakeyourcelikeanymanorbirdorfish.”

Itencedhimtotalkbecausehisbackhadstiffehenightandithurttrulynow.

“Stayatmyhouseifyoulike，bird，”hesaid.“IamsorryIothoistthesailandtakeyouinwiththesmallbreezethatisrising.ButIamwithafriend.”

Justthenthefishgaveasuddenlurchthatpulledtheoldmandownontothebowandwouldhavepulledhimoverboardifhehadnotbracedhimselfandgivensomeline.

Thebirdhadflownupwhenthelinejerkedandtheoldmanhadnotevenseenhimgo.Hefeltthelinecarefullywithhisrighthandandnoticedhishandwasbleeding.

“Somethinghurthimthen，”hesaidaloudandpulledbathelioseeifhecouldturnthefish.Butwheougthebreakingpointheheldsteadyaledbackagainstthestrainoftheline.

“You’refeelingitnow，fish，”hesaid.“Andso，Godknows，amI.”

Helookedaroundforthebirdnowbecausehewouldhavelikedhimforpany.Thebirdwasgone.

Youdidnotstaylong，themanthought.Butitisrougherwhereyoinguntilyoumaketheshore.HowdidIletthefishcutmewiththatonequickpullhema
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