Colin’s brilliant success at Santa Catalina, signalized by his receipt of the tuna button, had so increased Major Dare’s pride in him that when the boy renewed his request that he be allowed to enter the Bureau of Fisheries, his appeal received attention. The inspiration that he had gained from the whole-hearted enthusiasm of the professor was evident in all that the boy said, and his father was surprised to find how much the lad really had learned about the work of the Government during his experiences in the Behring Sea and on the Columbia River.

“It doesn’t appeal to me particularly,” his father said quietly, when the boy closed a somewhat impassioned petition, “but we are each built upon a different pattern. To me, fish are of interest as a food and for sport. I couldn’t be satisfied to take them up as a lifework. There’s no money in it; of course, you can see that.”

“There isn’t in any government work, is there?”

“No,” was the reply, “big fortunes are always made in individual ways. But when you’re starting out in life, it is much more important to be able to do the work you like than it is to seek only for money. The principal thing I’m afraid of is that you will find it tiresome and monotonous after a while. It’s very hard work with a good deal of manual labor involved, and there is nothing particularly attractive in a bushel of fish-eggs!”

“But it’s only on the start that you have to do the steady grind,” Colin objected, “and one has to do that in every line of work. I know you would very much rather I took to farming or lumbering, but I think a fish is a much more interesting thing to work with than a hill of corn or a jack-pine.”

“But don’t you think you would find it tame after a while?”

Colin leaned forward eagerly.

“I know I wouldn’t,” he said confidently. “I’ve heard you say, Father, that everything was interesting if you only went into it deeply enough. Now, there’s more chance for real original work with fish than in any other line I’ve ever heard of. The professor gave me an idea of all the different problems the Bureau was trying to solve, and each of them was more interesting than the last. You’ve got to be a doctor to study fish diseases, an engineer to devise ways and means for stream conditions, a chemist to work on poisons in the water that comes from factories, and all sorts of other things beside. It looks to me as though it had the best of all the professions boiled down into one!”

“That’s an exaggerated statement, of course,” was the reply; “but you seem in earnest. No,” he continued, as Colin prepared to burst forth again, “you’ve said enough.”

The boy waited anxiously, for he felt that the answer would decide his career.

“If your heart is set on the Fisheries,” his father rejoined thoughtfully, after a few minutes’ reflection, “I presume it would be unwise to stop you. But remember what I have told you before I’m perfectly willing to fit you for any profession in life you want to take up, but only for one. If you begin on anything you have got to go through with it. I’ll have no quitting. As you know, I would rather you had taken up lumbering, but I don’t want to force you into anything, and perhaps your brother Roderick may like the woods. You’re sure, however, as to what you want?”

“I want fishes!” said Colin firmly.

“I’ve been looking up the question a little since you wrote to me from Valdez,” Major Dare continued, “because I saw that your old desires had increased instead of dying out. You know, Colin, I want to help you as much as I can. You realize that there’s no school of fisheries, like the forestry schools, don’t you?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And that if you go into the Bureau the only way you can learn is by the actual work, hard work and dirty work, too, it will be often.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy answered, “I was told that, too.”

“I wrote to the Commissioner,” said Major Dare, “and explained the whole position to him. He answered my letter in a most friendly way, and showed me just what I’ve been telling you this morning. He pointed out frankly that the Bureau had so much to do and so little money appropriated to do it on, that such a thing as a ‘soft job’ wasn’t known in the service.”

“I’m not looking for that,” said Colin, a trifle indignantly.

“I don’t think you are, my boy, but you want to be sure before you take the plunge,” was the warning answer. “You oughtn’t to wait until you are in college before you make up your mind.”

Colin looked across the table at his father and met his glance squarely.

“There’s nothing else that I want to do,” he said firmly, “and I do want that. Of course, I’ll do whatever you say, but I feel that the Bureau of Fisheries is where I’m bound to land in the end.”

“No going back?”

“No going back, Father!”

Major Dare reached out his hand, and the boy grasped it warmly.

“Very well, my boy, that’s a compact. I’m not sure just what will need to be done to enter you in the Bureau, but whatever is necessary, we’ll do. I think you have decided on a life that will be hard and sometimes thankless, but at least it is a man’s job, and will have its own compensations. You couldn’t possibly do anything more useful. We’ll go home by way of Washington, visit the Fisheries Bureau together, and see what arrangements we can make.”

“That’s bully, Father,” said Colin earnestly; “thank you ever so much.”

“Make good, my boy,” his father answered, “that’s all you have to do. You’ll only have yourself to thank, for it will be all your own fight.”

It was fortunate for Colin that this was not decided until the day before they left Santa Catalina, for he became so impatient that the intervening hours before they started for the East seemed like weeks to the boy. His enthusiasm was so genuine that, although his mother was already very tired of the interminable ‘angling’ conversation in Santa Catalina, she succeeded nobly in evincing an intense interest in the whole fish tribe.

When they arrived in Washington, which chanced to be in the afternoon, Colin wanted to start off for the Bureau of Fisheries immediately, even before he went to the hotel, and he seemed to feel quite aggrieved when the visit was put off. Major Dare had some important business to look after and he purposed to leave the question of the boy’s arrangements open for a couple of days, but he saw there would be no peace for any one until Colin’s fate was settled, and at the boy’s importunity he ’phoned to the Bureau and made an appointment with the Commissioner for the following day.

Next morning, accordingly, the two started off together for the Fisheries Building, an antiquated structure standing in the magnificent park behind the National Museum and but a short distance from the Smithsonian Institution. They entered on the ground-floor, seeing to the left a number of hatching troughs, to the right models of nets and fishing-vessels, at the far end a small aquarium, while in the center was a tank in which were the two fur seals that the boy had heard about in the Pribilof Islands.

He pulled his father’s arm.

“Oh, Father!” he cried; “there are the fur seals. Come over and see them!”

But his father shook his head smilingly.

“They are not personal friends of mine, as they seem to be of yours,” he said, “and I have no time to waste. Besides, we have an engagement with the Commissioner. You can come down and chat with your seal acquaintances after our talk.”

The Commissioner greeted them cordially, and without waste of words.

“So this is the boy!” he said, after the customary greetings. “He’ll need to grow a bit, eh?”

“So did both of us once,” said Major Dare, looking at his own height and the Commissioner’s burly frame. “We haven’t done so badly.”

“That’s true. Well, boy, tell me just what you want to do.”

“Everything that there is to do in the Bureau, Mr. Glades,” answered Colin promptly.

The Commissioner rubbed his hand over his chin, with a short laugh.

“That’s a big order,” he said. “Willing to work?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy replied; “I don’t mind work.”

“This is the place for it. There’s just two kinds of people in the world,” the Commissioner went on; “those who do just what they learn to do and nothing else, and those who do the work because they want to.”

“Yes, sir,” again responded the boy, wondering what was coming.

“The first lot keep things running and that’s all. The others are the real men. The last are the men we’ve got in the Bureau and everybody has to be up to the standard. So, there you are.”

“I don’t know whether I can come up to the standard, but I’m one of those that want to!” the boy said emphatically, rightly judging that the Commissioner was not the sort of man who liked long speeches.

“Good! Going to college?”

The boy looked at his father.

“I had thought of sending him to Brown,” he said, “since he got this Fisheries idea. One of my friends told me that it was an excellent university for biology.”

“Do it!” said the Commissioner. “Send him to college in the winter, let him work with us in the vacation. That’ll give him four summers’ training with us. When he comes out of college he ought to be worth something to the Bureau. But don’t start and then give up.”

“Colin won’t do that,” his father said, then added pointedly, “I’ll see to it that he doesn’t.”

“Very well,” said the Commissioner, “that’s settled.” He rang a bell, and a messenger appeared at the door. “Ask Dr. Crafts to step here a minute if he is disengaged. Dr. Crafts,” he continued, turning to Major Dare, “is perhaps one of the most valuable men we have on the Bureau. Oh, by the way, boy, when do you want to start?”

“Right away, sir, if possible,” Colin replied.

“Is that novelty or enthusiasm?”

“Enthusiasm, I think,” Major Dare answered, smiling.

In a moment the door opened again, and the Deputy Commissioner came in.

“Dr. Crafts,” the Commissioner said, after introductions had been made, “here’s an enthusiastic youngster who wants the Commissionership! Not right away, perhaps,” he added as the newcomer smiled at the boy, “but perhaps in a couple of decades or so. And he thinks he ought to start this minute. Have we anything for him to do?”

“I don’t know of anything especially,” said the Deputy Commissioner thoughtfully; “it’s so late in the season.”

“Let him have something to work off his animal spirits,” the Commissioner said; “it’s a pity to let so much energy go to waste.”

“Very well,” the other said genially; “we’ll see what we can do. Will you join us, Major Dare?”

“I think not,” the boy’s father answered; “I will leave him entirely in your hands, and he can tell me all about it afterwards. I want just a word or two more, Commissioner,” he added, “and then I must be going.”

“What’s your name, lad?” asked his new chief, as they walked along the hall.

“Colin Dare, sir,” the boy responded.

“Which is it to be,” the official asked with a pleasant smile, “‘Colin’ or ’Dare’?”

The boy looked up at him and felt instantly the thorough kindliness and fine worth of his companion, and answered promptly:

“‘Colin,’ sir, if you don’t mind. That is, at least, to you.”

“All right, Colin,” was the reply; “I suppose we must see what we can find for you to do. Tell me,” he continued, as they entered his office, “how you came to think of entering the Fisheries Bureau?”

Thus adjured, Colin told briefly how his father had tried to interest him first in lumbering and then in engineering, but that neither had appealed to him. Then he told of his whaling adventures and of the few days he had spent on the Pribilof Islands, recounting the Japanese raid with great gusto. The Deputy Commissioner, who had heard nothing but the official account of the fracas was intensely interested and he questioned Colin closely, noting carefully the boy’s clear understanding of the seal question.

“You have a head for facts, Colin,” he said approvingly, when the whole adventure had been told, “because you really have noted the important points in that sealing business, and it is more complicated than it looks. Go on, now, and tell me how you came down from Valdez.”

So Colin took up the story again, described his meeting with the lieutenant of the revenue cutter and the kindness he had received from him. The Deputy Commissioner smiled, for the officer in question was a close personal friend. Then Colin told of the salmon tagging and of his visit to the hatchery, not forgetting the capture of the sea-serpent.

“It seems to me,” Dr. Crafts said jokingly, “that you have become a public personage in connection with Fisheries even before you come into the Bureau. To figure in a Japanese seal raid and to capture a sea-serpent in the same summer is enough fame for anybody!”

Colin laughed and answered:

“After that it would seem a little like boasting, but ” he reached into his pocket and pulled out the tuna button, safely stowed away in a tightly-closed box.

The Deputy Commissioner whistled softly in surprise.

“And did you win this, too?” he asked. “You went to Santa Catalina, then?”

“Yes, Dr. Crafts,” the boy replied, and related his experiences while there. He told the story well, and the Deputy Commissioner who was a master in that art nodded appreciatively.

“So far as I can judge,” he said, “the Bureau is the place for you. But I don’t know where to fit you in. It is getting on towards the middle of August, and not only is the work all arranged for the summer, but most of it is done.”

“I just want to be at work,” pleaded the boy, “for the experience, not for what I can get out of it, of course.”

“That sort of arrangement is impossible,” answered the Deputy Commissioner; “there is plenty of volunteer work done in the Bureau, but such work is always along the line of special investigation, and it is given to those who are equipped for research, usually university professors. The assistants are always paid, and you see I couldn’t very well create a precedent on your account!”

“No, Dr. Crafts,” answered Colin, quite disheartened; “I suppose not.”

The Deputy Commissioner tapped on the desk thoughtfully.

“It happens,” he said, “that a friend of mine who is attached to the American Museum of Natural History that’s the New York museum, you know sails for Bermuda next Saturday to get some material. He wants to take a helper along, and the Museum provides him with funds for engaging help on the island.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said, wondering what was coming.

“Now,” the Fisheries official continued, “if he has got to have help it might be a good experience for you to go with him, but you may have to pay your way across. What salary you receive over there would just about meet the expenses of the trip, so that you would break even. Would you like to do it?”

“I’d rather start in on the Bureau,” Colin answered, but he was wise enough not to refuse an opportunity, and continued, “but if you think it would be a good thing for me to do, why, of course, I’m ready.”

“I think it would be an excellent chance,” the Deputy Commissioner said, “because we do very little work around the Bahamas, and none at all in Bermuda, so that it would give you an idea of the fish-life there which, otherwise, you might never get. And if you tried any Bureau work now, you would be handicapped by not having started with the other boys, and you’d be so far behind that you might feel badly about it. So the Bermuda opportunity seems to me the best chance.”

“What is the purpose of the trip, sir?” asked the boy.

“To prepare a model for the Museum which will give people an idea of the sea-gardens as they really are. Part of the model will be of prepared specimens, I believe, and some will be copies made of spun glass. I understand that Mr. Collier wants to study especially the sea anémones, the corals, the sponges, and the sea-fans; also, to note the habits of the fish peculiar to the coral reefs, and show them in the model as though they were swimming about in their natural habitat.”

“That would be awfully interesting!” said Colin.

“It will teach you a lot,” rejoined the Deputy Commissioner, “and you can’t ever know too much about sea-life. The real backboned fishes, with which the Bureau principally deals, are only a small part of the population of the ocean.”

“Shall I go and call on this gentleman, then, Dr. Crafts?” the boy asked.

“You had better drop in and see me this afternoon,” was the reply. “I’ll telephone to Mr. Collier and ask him to take lunch with me and we’ll talk it over then. Suppose you come in about half-past two o’clock, and if he takes kindly to the scheme I’ll have him meet you here. If he has other plans, why, there’s no harm done, and we’ll try and think of something else.”

Thanking his new-found friend heartily, but not quite sure whether he liked this way of shelving him from the Bureau for a season, Colin made his way to the lower story of the building, where he felt that the two young fur seals were old friends. As it happened, a couple of boys about his own age came along and, overhearing their remarks, Colin joined in, realizing that they had all sorts of wrong ideas about the seals. He waxed so enthusiastic that, as other people came in, they gathered around him and, before Colin was really conscious of it, he had quite an audience. Among them was an old attendant of the Bureau who, as it happened, had been on the Pribilof Islands with Dr. Brown Goode, in 1872. He listened for a while, then said:

“I beg your pardon, sir, but have you been in St. Paul recently?”

“I was there this spring,” Colin replied.

“It’s just forty years this summer, sir, since I was on the islands. They tell me there’s been great changes.” And, without further ado, he commenced to question Colin closely concerning the place, the boy having equal interest in learning what the rookeries were like when the first investigation was made. It was not until lunch-time that he could tear himself away.

Promptly, at the hour appointed, Colin presented himself at the Deputy Commissioner’s office and was met by Dr. Crafts’ secretary. His pulse was beating like a trip-hammer, and he probably looked nervous, for the secretary glanced once or twice in his direction. Then, wishing to give news that would be welcome, she said formally, of course, but betraying a sincere kindliness:

“I think Mr. Collier is with Dr. Crafts now.”

On the instant Colin detected that the secretary knew something about the matter and wanted to reassure him, so he smiled back, saying:

“Thank you. I hope it will be all right, then.”

The two men were chatting earnestly, and the wait seemed long to Colin, but after a while the Deputy Commissioner called him in.

“This is the boy, Robert,” he said. “Colin,” he continued, “let me present you to Mr. Collier.”

“So you’re coming along with me to Bermuda and Florida, I hear,” the museum curator said, shaking hands.

Colin looked up at the tall, gaunt figure and caught a twinkle of good-humor in the deeply-sunk gray eyes.

“I was hoping to before, sir,” he answered, “and I’m hoping to, even more now.”

“That’s the way to talk, never lose a chance for a happy phrase,” was the reply. “Well, Dr. Crafts here seems willing to go bail for you although I understand he never saw you before to-day and I think we could get along all right, so if you’re satisfied, I guess we’ll call it a deal. There’s one difficulty, though.”

“What’s that, sir?” asked the boy.

“I shall probably need to go to Florida as well, and I should like to have my assistant stay with me clear through.”

“So much the better,” the boy responded.

“But I understand you’re going to start your freshman year in college?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy answered, “I’m going to Brown.”

“That’s what I thought. But you see I don’t expect to get back much before the tenth of October, and college will have started by then. I don’t want,” he continued, his eyes twinkling with fun, “to rob the other fellows of the fun of hazing you.”

“I don’t think there’s much hazing at Brown, sir, and perhaps I shall miss some of the fun of the opening of the year,” Colin replied, after thinking for a minute or two; “but I’d much rather take the trip with you, sir, and I can soon catch up with my class in any subject the first few lectures of which I may have missed.”

“But aren’t you supposed to be in attendance on a certain day?”

“Yes, Mr. Collier,” the boy replied, “I believe I should be. But Father can fix that all right.”

“You think your father can arrange anything, Colin,” said the Deputy Commissioner, smiling.

“Well, he always has!” the boy declared.

“If the Florida trip is no barrier,” the curator said, “I think that we can call the matter settled. Dr. Crafts told you that you would have to pay your own passage?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll like Bermuda, I think. Everything there’s so much worth while.”

“There you go again, Robert,” said the Deputy Commissioner; “always in superlatives.”

“Of course! Who would want to be otherwise?” said the curator. He turned to Colin. “Come and take dinner with me to-night, and we’ll talk over the details. Here’s my card,” and he penciled his address on the pasteboard. “I’ll give you some seaweed pudding, carrageen, you know.”

Colin didn’t know, but he thanked his host heartily, and then turned to the Deputy Commissioner.

“What is it, Colin?” he was asked.

“Please, sir,” the boy replied, “you haven’t said anything about my chances in the Bureau.”

The Fisheries official looked straight at him with a long, level glance.

“We need high-grade, well-trained men,” he said; “the more so because there are no really good ichthyological schools. And no matter how well-trained a man may be he’s got to have the practical experience and the grit behind it. If you show in this trip that you’re made of the right kind of stuff and if your college work is up to standard, I’ll promise you a summer job for next year and for each year that you’re at college. You’ll be advanced just exactly as fast as you deserve, and not a bit faster. If you want to go into the Bureau your record will be watched, and you’ll sink or swim by that!”

“Very well, sir,” said Colin, a little taken aback by this straight-from-the-shoulder statement. “I’ll do my best, anyhow.” He shook hands heartily, and thanking his new chief, hurried excitedly to the hotel where his family was staying to tell of his success and of the unexpected addition of the Florida trip.

His father was quite well satisfied that the boy should have so pleasant an initiation into the life he had chosen, and was quite content that this semi-holiday opportunity had arisen instead of hard work in one of the hatchery stations. Major Dare felt that Colin had already had a strenuous summer and that it was advisable for him to do something a little less adventurous before beginning his college work.

The evening that the lad spent with the scientist-artist was a revelation to him, for his host not only knew the life of the bottom of the sea as though he had always lived there, but he was a marvelous designer in glass, and possessed some of the most exquisite models of fragile sea forms, all of which had been made under his direction. Several of these were magnified many times and were more beautiful even than any the boy had ever seen pictured.

There were no half-way measures in Colin’s enthusiasm, and he begged Mr. Collier to lend him books, so that during the days that were to elapse before starting on the trip, he could get an idea of the life histories of sea anémones, jellyfish, and the like, with which he would be working. His friend was both amused and pleased by the lad’s eagerness.

Mrs. Dare had visited friends in the Bermudas once or twice, so that she was able to give Colin many suggestions which he found went far to increase the pleasure of his stay. A meeting was arranged, and Major Dare liked his son’s new friend immensely, quite a pleasant relationship being established between the two men, so that Colin’s departure for Bermuda was under the happiest auspices. He soon learned that the museum curator was not only an authority on his own subject of marine invertebrates, but that he was interested to the utmost in all sorts of affairs, and he admitted confidentially to the boy that he was an inveterate baseball fan. Best of all, perhaps, Colin gained from him the feeling that science and scholarship were two windows whereby one might see how much good there is in the world.

“Enthusiasm,” Mr. Collier said, “is one of the best forces I know. A boy without enthusiasm is like a firecracker without a fuse. The powder may be there all right, but it will never have a chance to make itself heard.”

The lesser-known life of the sea, in which the boy’s interest was centered for the especial purposes of this trip, seemed to Colin at first even more interesting than that of fishes and the voyage to Bermuda was practically a continuous revelation of wonders. The scientist realized that he had not only an assistant, but a disciple, and went to much trouble to teach the lad. This was one of Colin’s great characteristics, his interest was always so genuine and so thorough that others would do everything they could to help him.

The Bermuda Islands were sighted for the first time under a cloudy sky, and Colin thought he had never seen a more disappointing sight. Compared to Santa Catalina, the islands lay low and without sharp contrast, no cliffs rising bluff upon the shore, no mountains looming purple in the distance. The land was parched for it was late in the summer and the scattered foliage looked small and spindling after the gigantic forests of California. The “beautiful Bermudas” seemed plain and uninviting as the steamer passed St. David’s Head. Moreover, as they steamed down along the north shore, the same appearance was visible throughout, its low undulating sea-front of black, honeycombed rock lacking character, the rare patches of sandy beach and sparse sunburned vegetation seeming bare and dreary.

Reaching Grassy Bay, however, past the navy yard and rounding Hog-fish Beacon, the sun came out and swiftly the scene became transfigured. As the steamer drew nearer and began to run between the islands in the channel, the undulating shores showed themselves as hills and valleys in miniature. The bare, white spots were revealed as white coral houses set in masses of flowers, the foliage sheltered from the north gleamed dark and luxuriant, while the shallowing crystal water glinted from the white sand below as though the steamer were sailing through a translucent gem. Before the vessel had passed the length of the Great Sound and had warped into Hamilton, Colin had changed his mind, and was willing to admit that, after all, Bermuda might be quite a pretty place.

But he could not have believed the transformation scene through which he seemed to pass on landing. Freed from the glare of the waterfront of Hamilton and on the road to Fairyland Bay, he seemed to have entered a new world. It was a Paradise of Flowers, even the Golden State could not outdo it. Hedges of scarlet hibiscus flamed ten feet high, clusters of purple bougainvillea poured down from cottage-porches, while oleander in radiant bloom formed a hedge twenty feet high for as much as half a mile at a stretch. At one moment the road would pass a dense banana plantation with the strange tall poles of the pawpaw trees standing sentinel, the next it would pass the dark recesses of a mangrove bay, where the sea ebbs and flows amid an impenetrable thicket of interlacing roots. And at frequent intervals a slight rise of ground would show the emerald sea beyond, gleaming as though lit with living light.

“‘The land where it is always afternoon,’” quoted Mr. Collier softly, as they drove up to the house where they were to stay, a small hotel overlooking a narrow fiord of rock, into which the translucent water rippled. Beyond, upon the gleaming bay rested three or four tiny islands.

“It’s almost the loveliest place I ever saw,” said Colin; “but it isn’t as grand and wild as Santa Catalina.”

“I never want to leave Bermuda,” said the other; “every time I visit the islands I decide that some day I must come and live here. And even when I am away, its memories haunt me. Everything seems so much worth while here.”

“What’s the programme, Mr. Collier?” asked Colin, after lunch, when they were comfortably settled.

“You are at liberty this afternoon,” was the reply, “as I have a number of small things to look after, so that if you want to get a glimpse of the islands, you had better make good use of your time. You ride a wheel, of course?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then walk into Hamilton and rent one; bicycling is the only way to see Bermuda properly. And you’d better go to Devil’s Hole this afternoon and see the fish there. Try and persuade the old keeper of the place to talk, and if you can get him started, he will tell you a good deal about Bermuda fishes. They’re worth knowing about, too!”

Acting on this advice, Colin strolled into the little city and rented a bicycle. The roads, he found, were perfect for wheeling, there being only one hill too steep for riding, but in spite of all that he had heard about the absence of distances, it seemed incredible that an hour’s easy wheeling should enable him to cover almost half the entire length of the main island. Everything was in miniature, and having a camera with him, he took snapshots recklessly everywhere, each turn in the road seeming to give a picture more attractive than the last. He was to find, however, that the charm of Bermuda is too subtle for the photographic plate.

On the way to Devil’s Hole, taking the south-shore road, Colin had an opportunity of noticing its amazing contrast to the north shore, which had seemed so desolate and uninviting as the steamer came in. The conformation was widely different, marked by higher cliffs, rocks jutting out boldly into the sea, with the waves boiling over them and throwing up the spray, wide stretches of fine white sand, and as far as the eye could see, small circular atolls of coral level with the surface of the water. He paused for a little while at the house where the Irish poet, Thomas Moore, once dwelt while a government employee on the island, and like every visitor he sat for a while under the famous Calabash Tree, renowned in verse. Nor did he fail to visit the marvelous stalactite caves of which Bermuda has five beautiful examples, lighted with electricity to display their wonders. The boy was greatly interested in the most recently discovered one of all, where the stalactites branch like trees in a manner but little understood by geologists. But, greatly though he wished to investigate this problem, Colin’s objective point was the Devil’s Hole; and fish, not stalactites, were his first consideration.

Devil’s Hole was a strange place. Lying inland, a little distance from Harrington Sound, and with no visible connection with the sea, it seemed a creation of its own. It was a pool, sunk in a bower of trees, almost exactly circular and over sixty feet deep. Silent and reflecting every detail of trees and sky above, the dark water was filled with fishes of many varieties, nearly a thousand fish living near the surface or in its depths. Underground channels connected it with the Sound, that great inland sea of Bermuda, and the water in the pool ebbed and flowed with the tide, changing in level, however, but a couple of inches. A tiny bridge spanned the water.

The old keeper of the place greeted Colin and proceeded to deliver himself of a humorous rigmarole, designed for the benefit of tourists. It was pure ‘nature-faking,’ since it ascribed human characteristics to some of the fish in the pool, the various specimens being called the “bride” and “groom” and so forth. The screed was rather wearisome to Colin, but when he tried to interrupt, the old keeper seemed so hurt and so confused that the boy let him go on to the end.

The feeding of the fish was a matter of more interest, and it was striking to observe that the angel-fish and groupers were able to recognize their respective summons to food, for when the keeper tapped one portion of the bridge it gave a sharp cracking sound to which the angel-fish came flocking, while in calling the groupers and other fish, he hit another portion of the bridge, which reverberated in a different tone, and the larger fish dashed through the water to the appointed places. After this performance was over the keeper was willing to talk less idly, and showed a very considerable knowledge of the species found in Bermuda waters.

“I noticed,” Colin said, “that you fed the angel-fish with sea-urchin. I don’t see how they can eat it with their tiny mouths, I should think the spines would get in the way.”

“I crushes the spines before I throws ’em in,” the keeper answered; “but they eats ’em in the nateral state. I don’t know how they gets at ’em. They has lots of savvy, sir, angel-fish has, and for a small fish they can ’old their own. Why, even the big groupers lets ’em alone.”

“Are the groupers fierce?” the boy asked, with his arms on the rail, looking over at the fish.

“Fierce enough, sir,” said the old man. “I was tellin’ a party once, just what I was tellin’ you a while ago about the fish ”

“Yes,” said Colin wearily, realizing that the same nonsense about the bride fish and the bridegroom fish and the “old bachelor” and all the rest of it had probably been given as a dose to every visitor for twenty years back, “and what then?”

“There was an officer in the party, sir,” the keeper continued, “and when I spoke of the fish as bein’ savage ’e laughed and said ’e didn’t believe it. ’E said ’e’d swam around among sharks and never got hurt, but I told ’im ‘e wouldn’t be willin’ to take a plunge in the pool.”

Colin looked down at the fish.

“They don’t look very bad,” he said; “but I don’t think I’d like to chance it.”

“You’re right, sir; I wouldn’t go in, not for a thousand pound. Well, this officer ’e was a captain, I think made some remark about it all bein’ nonsense, and said that even ’is dog would scare the fish so that they wouldn’t as much as come up from the bottom.”

“That sounds reasonable enough,” said Colin; “a fish wouldn’t try to attack a dog.”

“That’s what ’e said,” the keeper continued; “and ’e bet me a ’arf sovereign on it. I didn’t want to see the dog ’urt, but a bet’s a bet, and there weren’t no ladies present, so I took ’im up.”

“Well?” queried Colin, as the keeper stopped.

“’E threw the dog in,” the keeper answered; “it was a spaniel and quite at ’ome in the water.”

“What happened?”

“In about ten seconds the water was just alive with fish, swimmin’ round and round, comin’ up by the ’undred from the deep water. Then they all turned black, like they do always before they’re goin’ to feed. Remember, I showed you that.”

“Yes, I know; but go on.”

“Then they all at once made a dash for the poor beast. I tried to pull ’im out, but there was a couple of ’undred of ’em there, and ’e ’ad no chance. ’E gave just one yelp and then was pulled under, and the groupers jolly well ate him clear down to the bones. We never saw ’ide nor ’air of ’im agen!”

Colin shuddered a little as he looked at the groupers swimming idly about and said:

“Don’t you suppose it was just because there were so many of them in this small pool? I hardly think a grouper would attack anything as large as a dog out in the open sea. They’re much the same sort of fish as bass, you know.”

“No, sir,” the keeper answered; “I never ‘eard of a grouper bein’ dangerous out at sea. But there is a fish that’s very bad around the coral on the reef.”

“You mean sharks?” Colin queried.

“No, sir,” the keeper answered; “sharks ain’t no fish.”

Colin elevated his eyebrows a little at this somewhat surprising way of stating that the sharks belonged to a lower order of marine species than any other fish, but he let it pass unchallenged.

“What fish do you mean, then?” asked the boy.

“Not sharks,” the keeper replied; “there ain’t no sharks near Bermuda anyway, they can’t get near enough. The reefs run ten mile out and they never come away inside ‘ere. No, sir, it’s the moray I’m talkin’ of.”

“The moray?” echoed Colin thoughtfully. “Seems to me I’ve heard about that fish somewhere. Isn’t it green? It’s called the green moray?”

“Yes, sir; that’s the fish. But there’s more spotted morays around than green ones.”

“But that’s hardly more a fish than a shark is,” objected Colin. “Isn’t a moray a kind of eel?”

“Yes, sir, but an eel’s a fish. Leastways so I was always told, when I used to work over at the Aquarium on Agar’s Island.”

“All right,” said Colin good-humoredly, “I guess you’re in the right about it. Go ahead and tell me about the moray.”

“I was just sayin’, sir, that they were the only ugly things around Bermuda. And they stay quite a bit from shore out around the coral atolls. You see lots of ’em around the sea-gardens. They ’ides in ’olés of the rocks and strikes out at other fishes like a snake. I knew a diver once, who was goin’ down after specimens from one of the sea-garden boats, and was nearly drowned.”

“How?” queried Colin a little incredulously. “The moray couldn’t bite through the diving-bell.”

“No, sir, no, sir, not through the diving-bell. But the india-rubber tube that put air into the ‘elmet came swingin’ past a ’olé in a rock in which a six-foot moray was waitin’ for anything that might come along, and ’e darted out at it.”

“Did he bite it through?” cried Colin.

“No, sir; a moray’s teeth ain’t set that way. ’Is teeth set backwards so they ’old anything solid. ’E started to swallow the tube, the moray did, and jerked the diver on ’is back so that ’e couldn’t pull the signal-cord. ’E would have been drowned sure, for ’e was forty feet down, but the water was so clear that some one on board the boat saw the fish attack ’im, and they pulled ’im up.”

“How about the moray?”

“’E was ‘angin’ on,” was the reply; “’e wouldn’t let go, and by the time they ’ad the diver on board agen, the fish ’ad chewed up the air-tube pretty well. But that wasn’t the worst, sir,” said the talkative old man, growing garrulous, as he saw the boy look at his watch. “Did you ever ’ear ’ow a big moray ’ad a fight with two men, one of ’em a fisherman from New York, and jolly well beat ’em both?”

“No,” Colin answered; “how could that be?”

“I didn’t see it myself,” the keeper began, “but from all I ’ear the story’s straight enough. The fishin’ party ’ad gone out on the reefs after rockfish, which is one of the gamiest fighters we ’ave ’ere, and some of ’em runs up to fifty and sixty pounds. They ’ad ’ooked several fine ’ogfish you want to ’ave a look at some of ’em; crimson fish they are with long sweepin’ spines and the next bite turned out to be a chub. They could see ’im plainly enough through the clear water. When pretty nigh the surface, just near’a large dome of brain coral, a long spotted fish shot out and seized the chub, swallowin’ the ’ook into the bargain.”

“Did they have a strong line?” Colin asked. “A moray is a powerful fish, isn’t he?”

“’E’s all muscle and teeth,” the keeper answered. “Yes, sir, it was ‘andline fishin’ and they ’ad a good strong line, so it was a sure thing that they could land ’im if ’e didn’t wrap the line around a rock. Israel, the boatman, wanted to cut the line, but the New Yorker ’e said, no; ’ad never caught a moray before and ’e ’oped to get this one. So they got the boat out into deeper water, Israel keepin’ it clear of the reefs and the fisherman tryin’ to ’aul in the line.”

“It must have been good fun!” exclaimed Colin. “I wish I’d been there!”

“Just you wait till you’ve ’eard what ’appened, young sir,” the old man warned him, “and then p’r’aps you’ll be glad you weren’t.”

“All right,” the boy prompted him; “go ahead.”

“’E was plucky, though, this chap, so Israel told me, for while ’is ’and was cut with the line two or three times when the moray made a vicious rush, still ’e ’ung on and that’s not as easy as it sounds. But in about ’alf an hour the fish was seemin’ly done for and the New Yorker pulled ’im in, ’and over ’and, as easy as you please. Just as ’e got ’im to the gunwale, though, the moray gave an extra wriggle, and bein’ afraid that ’e might get away agen, the fisherman gave a sudden pull and brought ’im on board without waitin’ to stun ’im.”

Colin grinned appreciatively.

“I’ve heard of a chap who got into trouble with a conger eel that way,” he said. “But go ahead with the story.”

“For about a minute or two, so Israel told me,” the old man went on, “the moray stayed quiet at the bottom of the boat. Then ’e put up ’is ‘ead, with its gleamin’, wicked teeth, and looked first at Israel and then at the New Yorker. ’E next sort of shook ’imself all along the spine, to make sure ’e was all there, and began to squirm ’is way toward the stern.”

“That was where the angler was?” queried Colin.

“Yes, sir; Israel was in the bow. ’E said the New Yorker didn’t seem to take it in at first, but that ’e suddenly gave a yell, jumped on one of the thwarts, and grabbed the boat-’ook. The fish was an ugly-lookin’ brute, from what I ’ear, and a spotted moray over six feet long is as nasty a thing to face as anything I know of.”

“But he didn’t deliberately attack the men, did he?”

“That’s just what ‘e did! There wasn’t no threshin’ around and flurryin’, but the vicious brute acted just like some kind of a sea-snake. The fisherman brought down the boat-’ook with all ’is might, but the moray just twisted sidewise as the blow came down, and the blunt-pointed ’ead, with its rows of sharp teeth, darted forward for the New Yorker’s leg.

“This was too much for ’is nerves and, with a ’owl that could have been ’eard a mile away, the fisherman jumped from the dingey into the sea, the teeth of the moray closin’ on the thwart where the man’s foot ’ad been a minute before. There was a sound of splinterin’, and the eel bit an inch of wood clear out of the board.”

“My word, there must have been power behind that jaw!” ejaculated Colin.

“For a minute or two the moray was quiet, and then ’e turned round. But in turnin’ ’e got imself twisted, the line which was still fast to ’is lower jaw becomin’ entangled around one of the rowlocks. But this gave ’im ’is chance: with a sudden pull, ’e broke the line and was free. Then, so Israel says, the fish just looked at ’im, and began to slide along the boat. But Israel didn’t wait to find out what the moray was after, ’e just decided to take no chances, and jumped for the mast.”

“Why for the mast?” queried Colin. “He couldn’t hang on there very long.”

“No,” the old keeper answered; “but supposin’ he went overboard with the New Yorker, what could they do with the boat? Ask the moray to sail it into ’Amilton? No, Israel climbed up the light mast ’igh enough for ’is weight to capsize the dingey. As soon as the boat turned over on its side and the water came in, the moray saw the way to freedom, and dashed back to ’is ’ome in the reefs, ‘avin’ beaten two good men and gotten away ’imself.”