"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.