ll give you boys six bits apiece for the whisker
hairs, and four bits for the galls. I expect to sell them at a
profit."

Next morning they shook off their lethargy and went seal-hunting.
I was practically commanded to attend. This attitude had been growing
of late: now it began to take a definite form.

"Mr. Eagan, don't you want to go hunting?" or "Mr. Eagen, I guess I'll
just go along with you to stretch my legs," had given way to, "We're
going fishing: you'd better come along."

I had known for a long time that I had lost any real control of them;
and that perhaps humiliated me a little. However, my inexperience at
handling such men, and the anomalous character of my position to some
extent consoled me. In the filaments brushed across the face of my
understanding I could discover none so strong as to support an overt
act on my part. I cannot doubt, that had the affair come to a focus,
I should have warned the scientists even at the risk of my life. In
fact, as I shall have occasion to show you, I did my best. But at the
moment, in all policy I could see my way to little besides
acquiescence.

We killed seals by sequestrating the bulls, surrounding them, and
clubbing them at a certain point of the forehead. It was surprising
to see how hard they fought, and how quickly they succumbed to a blow
properly directed. Then we stripped the mask with its bristle of long
whiskers, took the gall, and dragged the carcass into the surf where
it was devoured by fish. At first the men, pleased by the novelty,
stripped the skins. The blubber, often two or three inches in
thickness, had then to be cut away from the pelt, cube by cube. It
was a long, an oily, and odoriferous job. We stunk mightily of seal
oil; our garments were shiny with it, the very pores of our skins seemed
to ooze it. And even after the pelt was fairly well cleared, it had
still to be tanned. Percy Darrow suggested the method, but the process
was long, and generally unsatisfactory. With the acquisition of the
fifth greasy, heavy, and ill-smelling piece of fur the men's interest
in peltries waned. They confined themselves in all strictness to the
"trimmings."

Percy Darrow showed us how to clean the whiskers. The process was
evil. The masks were, quite simply, to be advanced so far in the way
of putrefaction that the bristles would part readily from their
sockets. The first batch the men hung out on a line. A few moments
later we heard a mighty squawking, a