“You must be very happy if you are so rich,” said Dick. “It must be lovely to have all those things.”
“No, I am not happy,” said the Old Man of the Sea. “I am very old, and very lonely, and there is no one here to admire my treasures but myself. The fishes will have nothing to do with me—they do not care for gold; it is valueless to them—and I may not go on land, so I am here alone with my riches, and every day I gather more and more. I have piled them high about my cave in a great circle, and some day, when it becomes top-heavy, it will fall over and crush me beneath it, and I shall be buried in a tomb of gold. No king, no emperor, had ever so grand a sepulchre as I shall have, but I am not happy—no—no—not happy, not happy.”
And the old man shouldered his bag and moved away, muttering sorrowfully.
“Poor man, poor man,” said Marjorie; “for he is poor, although he has so much wealth isn’t he, Dick?”
"Filling his bag with all kinds of treasure."
“Yes, jolly poor, and miserable too. I wouldn’t be him for something,” said Dick. “Come on, it makes me wretched to think about him—let’s get back to the Dolphins.”
When they reached them, they found that little friend, the thin fish, had arrived at last.
“Hullo!” cried Dick. “What a jolly long while you have been catching us up. Wherever have you been to all this time?”