ttacked. No chance to
escape. But the bachelors know that. They pass up and down such a
causeway by thousands, night and day. They 'don't turn to de right,
don't turn to de lef', but keep in de middle ob de road,'" quoted the
agent, laughing.

"And you say that all the furs, then, are taken from among the
holluschickie?" queried the boy.

"Every one of them."

"But how do you hunt the bachelor seals?"

The agent stared at him in surprise, and then burst into a short peal of
laughter.

"Hunt? How do you hunt pet puppies?" he queried, in reply. "The
holluschickie are the tamest, gentlest creatures in the world. Here are
the hauling-grounds now. Let's go down. You'll see how tame they are."

"But it's like a dancing-floor or a parade-ground for soldiers!" cried
Colin as, reaching the top of the hill, he looked across a stretch of
upland plain at least half a mile across. There was not a blade of
grass, not a twig of shrubbery of any kind, all had been beaten down and
the bare ground was as smooth as though it had been leveled off and
rolled. Upon this bare plain, thousands of the holluschickie were
playing, the most characteristic game seeming to be a voluntary march or
dance, when the bachelors would roughly gather into lines or groups and
lope along at exactly the same speed together for about fifty feet,
stopping simultaneously for a few moments, and then going on again, as
though obeying the commands of a drill-sergeant.

"They don't seem to play with each other much," commented Colin as the
two walked among the holluschickie, who showed neither fear nor
excitement, merely shuffling aside a foot or two to let them pass.

"They do in the water," the agent said. "Play 'King of the Castle' on a
flat-topped rock for hours together. One seal pushes the other off the
coveted post, only to be dislodged himself a minute after. And I have
never once seen any sign of ill-humor. They never bite. They never
injure one another. They never even growl angrily. It's hard to believe
that their tempers can change so quickly when they reach the rookery."

"They seem to be of all ages and sizes," said Colin.

[Illustration: BULL FUR-SEAL CHARGING THE CAMERA.

_Courtesy of the National Geographic Magazine._]

[Illustration: SNAPSHOTTING AN OLD BEACH-MASTER.

This plate was recovered, although the photographer was drowned on the
treacherous shores of the Pribilof Islands the very day the picture was
taken.

_Courtesy of th