"Well, isn't it? It's the heroic post, the forlorn hope, the last stand
of the battle-line," the Fisheries enthusiast replied. "All the nations
of the world were deliberately allowing all the fur seals to be killed
off. Uncle Sam stopped it. It's not too late yet. The Japanese
seal-pirates must be exterminated absolutely! Could you run a ranch if
every time a steer or cow got more than three miles away from the corral
anybody could come along and shoot it? Of course not. Obviously!"

"But this isn't a ranch!"

"Why not? Same principle," the assistant agent answered. "Ranchers breed
cattle in hundreds or thousands. We breed seals in hundreds of
thousands; yes, in millions. And a fur seal is worth more than a steer.
Oh, yes!"

"Do seals breed as largely still?" Colin asked in surprise.

"Would if they had the chance," was the indignant answer. "Undoubtedly
millions and millions have been killed in the last fifty years. Takes
time to build up, too! Only one baby seal is born at a time. A run-down
herd can't increase so very fast. But we're getting there. Certainly!"

"Our gunner was telling me," Colin said, "that killing seals at sea was
the cause of all the trouble."

"Yes. Lately. Before that, rookery after rookery had been visited and
every seal butchered. Old and young alike. No mercy. Worst kind of
cruelty."

"But hasn't the sea trouble been stopped?" queried the boy. "I thought
it had, but you said something just now about seal-pirates."

"Stopped officially," his informant said. "Can't kill a seal in the
ocean, not under any consideration. That is, by law. Not in American
waters. Nor in Russian waters. Nor in Japanese waters. Nor in the open
sea. International agreement determines that. Of course. But lots of
people break laws. Obviously! Big profit in it. There's a lot of killing
going on still. Stop it? When we can!"

"But how about killing them on land?" Colin asked. "You do that, I know,
because I've read that the Bureau of Fisheries even looks after the
selling of the skins. While it may be all right, it looks to me as
though you were killing them off, anyhow. What's the good of saving them
in the water if you wipe them out when they get ashore."

"You don't understand!" his friend said. "Got anything to do right now?"

"Not so far as I know," Colin answered.

"You've had breakfast?"

"Yes, thanks," the boy answered, "and I tell you it tasted good after a
night in the boat."

"Come over to the