OUR ISLANDS 153 



but very lovable, to the old bulls with bristly mous- 

 taches, who pretend to be dangerous but turn 

 sheepish when outfaced, they are all amusing, and 

 some of the most delightful hours in the archipelago 

 I have spent in their society. So now I naturally 

 swerved toward the bulky bodies sprawled in the 

 sun, all sleeping as blissfully as though lava boul- 

 ders made the softest bed in the world. 



The first group that I approached was of mother 

 and child, — the latter enjoying peaceful dreams in 

 a small tide puddle, while the guardian parent, a 

 few feet away, lay dozing with her chin propped 

 on a keen-edged stone. I walked up behind them, 

 sat down a yard away, and remarked gently, 

 ' 'Good-morning. ' ' 



There was no reaction to this, except that the 

 skin on the mother's neck twitched, as though my 

 voice were a ticklish sort of fly. I repeated my 

 greeting somewhat louder. The otter-like head 

 hfted from the rocky pillow and slowly swung in 

 my direction, and not until both eyes were brought 

 to bear upon me did the full horror of the situa- 

 tion dawn upon her. With a mighty snort of 

 amazement, she sat as bolt upright as a sea-lion can 

 sit, and braced on right-angled wrists she stared 

 transfixed. I stared back, for one of her eyes was 

 a repulsive, sightless mass of mucus, the result of 

 a wound, I thought at first. The baby had not 

 moved, so I reached out and patted his little rump. 

 He rolled over nearly on his back, waving a lan- 

 guid flipper, but when he saw me, he went into 

 reverse and lumbered hastily to his mother's side. 



