Here and there a man beat his hands while they waited, for the night was cold, others lighted their pipes, and Niven, who was glad to rest his wrenched foot, sat down.
"Why don't we go straight in and club them?" he asked Stickine.
"It wouldn't be the square thing," said the Canadian. "A seal knows a good deal, and if we killed 'bout half of them among the rest, those that got away would tell the others, and it would be a long while before they came back to this beach again."
"But seals only do things instinctively," said Niven.
Donegal, who was standing close by, laughed as he asked, "And what is instinct, anyway?"
Niven appeared to have some difficulty in finding an answer, and Appleby grinned at him. "Better tell him you don't know," he said.
Donegal nodded. "Nor any one else, but the holluschackie have brains in their heads, as ye will see before this conthract's through. And what were they given brains for if 'twas not to make use av them? 'Tis the vanity of ignorance would have ye believe there's no sense in the wondherful things in the sea. Sure, Donovitch and his Indians could tell ye better."
This was a new point of view to Appleby, but being aware that his sealer comrades had seen more of the denizens of the waters than all the city men who lectured and wrote about them put together he made no answer.
"Then when are we going to club them?" asked Niven.
"When we've drawn out those we want and driven them nice and slow to a handy place," said Stickine.