“Whatever it is, I’m ready to wager that it isn’t a seal,” said Antoine, but hurrying over, none the less. “If you thought for a minute, Perry, you’d see that it couldn’t be a seal. It’s more likely—”
He had reached the lad and looked down. He gave a long, low whistle.
“Let’s get it out!” cried the boy and reached down to grab the bones.
His hands were just closing on them when Antoine’s grip caught him by the shoulder and hurled him backwards.
“What the—” began the boy.
But Antoine paid no heed. His head was down in the hole that the boy had made, and he was blowing the sand away with his breath as though the bone were made of feathers. Then he looked up.
“I think it’s an Eosiren,” he said. “If it is, Perry, it’s a bully find.”
“Let’s take it to camp!”
“How?” queried the other. “Pick it up the way you were going to?”
“Why not?”