"I thought so," was the reply. "I remember some magazine articles he did. And I suppose you thought you wanted to take a ride?"
"I'm a good swimmer, sir," Colin answered a little proudly.
"You mean you can swim," the Deputy Commissioner responded a little sharply, for being modest himself, he disliked any appearance of boasting.
"Yes, sir," the boy said; "that was what I meant."
"Well, there's no turtle-riding at Beaufort. If you knew a little more about these subjects, you wouldn't make such breaks, whether you have been reading up on them or not. The leather turtle, the big one on which men dive by holding on to the shell, is an aquatic species and never comes into brackish water. The terrapin lives in the mud, and is only to be found in marshy places. If you want to go turtle-riding for your vacation, why, go ahead, no one's going to stop you, but you can
hardly do that while officially or even unofficially acting as an assistant at Beaufort. It's almost as far from Beaufort to the Florida Keys as it is from here to Hudson's Bay."
"I hadn't realized that, sir," Colin answered, surprised.
"Very few people do," was the reply. "Why, the State of Florida alone is as long as the distance from New York to Nova Scotia, or Washington to Detroit. You can't go after leather-turtle from Beaufort unless you've got—not seven-leagued boots, but seven-leagued fins."
"I'm sorry I bothered you about it, Dr. Crafts," the boy answered. "I really hadn't given the distances much thought."
"Wait a bit," said the Deputy Commissioner, as the boy turned to go. "I don't want you to feel badly about your summer. What do you know about mussels?"