“Hetookaboutfortypounds，”theoldmansaidaloud.Hetookmyharpoontooandalltherope，hethought，andnowmyfishbleedsagainandtherewillbeothers.

Hedidnotliketolookatthefishanymoresincehehadbeenmutilated.Whenthefishhadbeenhititwasasthoughhehimselfwerehit.

ButIkilledthesharkthathitmyfish，hethought.AhebiggestdentusothatIhaveeverseen.AndGodknowsthatIhaveseenbigones.

Itwastoogoodtolast，hethought.IwishithadbeenadreamnowandthatIhadneverhookedthefishandwasaloneiheneers.

“Butmanisnotmadefordefeat，”hesaid.“Amanbedestroyedbuted.”IamsorrythatIkilledthefishthough，hethought.NowthebadtimeisingandIdonoteveheharpoousoiscruelandableandstrongandintelligent.ButIwasmoreintelligentthanheerhapsnot，hethought.PerhapsIwasoerarmed.

“Don’tthink，oldman，”hesaidaloud.“Sailonthiscourseandtakeitwhenites.”

ButImustthihought.BecauseitisallIhaveleft.Thatandbaseball.IwonderhowthegreatDiMaggiowouldhavelikedthewayIhithiminthebrain？Itwashihought.Anymancoulddoit.Butdoyouthinkmyhandswereasgreata
（本章节未完结，点击下一页翻页继续阅读）