"Hardly help seeing one," was the reply. "Watch now. We're just at the rookery. Immediately!"
Turning sharply to the left, the older man led the way between two piles of stones heaped up so
as to form a sort of wall, and shut off at the sea end.
"What's this for?" asked Colin.
"Path through the rookery. Want to count the seals every once in a while," the agent said. "Must have some sort of gangway. Obviously! Couldn't get near enough, otherwise."
"Why not?" queried Colin. "Would the beachmasters attack you?"
"They won't start it," was the reply. "Sea-catch keeps quiet unless he thinks you're going to attack his harem. About two weeks ago, I only just escaped. Narrow squeeze. Wanted to get a photograph of one of the biggest sea-catches I had ever seen. Took a heavy camera. The sea-catch didn't seem excited. Not particularly. So, I came up quite close to him."
"How close, Mr. Nagge?"
"Ten or twelve feet. Just about. I got under the cloth. Focused him all right. Then slipped in my plate. Just going to press the bulb when he charged. Straight for me. No warning. I squeezed the bulb, anyhow; grabbed the camera and ran. Promptly!"
"Did he chase you far?"