Three hours after, Caius sough his father as the old man was making his nightly tour of the barns and stables. By way of easing his own sense of responsibility he had decided to tell his father what he had seen, and his telling was much like such confession of sins as many people make, soothing their consciences by an effort that does not adequately reveal the guilt to the listener.
Caius came up just as his father was locking the stable door.
"Look here, father; wait a minute. I have something to say. I saw a very curious thing down at the shore to-day, but I don't want you to tell mother, or Mabel, or the men."
The old man stood gravely expectant. The summer twilight just revealed the outline of his thin figure and ragged hair and beard.
"It was in the water swimming about, making darts here and there like a big trout. Its body was brown, and it looked as if it had horny balls round its neck; and its head, you know, was like a human being's."
"I never heard tell of a fish like that, Caius. Was it a porpoise?"
"Well, I suppose I know what a porpoise is like."
"About how large was it?" said the elder man, abandoning the porpoise theory.
"I should think about five or six feet long."
"As long as that? Did it look as if it could do any harm?"