Ahead of them was a rock rising fifty or sixty feet out of the water. It was evident that the rock was inhabited for there could be seen dark forms moving around upon it. Nothing had been said since they started, for the Captain was not in a talkative mood. Jeems Howell, the shepherd, had sat silently smoking his pipe in philosophic contentment.
"What are those things on that rock?" inquired Tom, his curiosity getting the best of his reserve.
"Two yankees in this boat," commented the shepherd. "Those are seals, son. Didn't you ever see any before?"
"No!" admitted Tom.
"You didn't know that seals, next to humans, are the smartest animals, in the world."
"Is that so?" inquired Juarez. "They certainly are sleek."
"They have got the most brain room, that's a fact."
The boys regarded the seals with peculiar interest as the boat passed near the rock. They were moving about awkwardly by means of their flippers, moving their sinuous necks this way and that and regarding the strange boat with their soft brown eyes. Then they dived headlong into the sea, swimming about with a peculiar grace.
"Queer animals," remarked Tom, "belong half to the sea and half to the land."
"Something like sailors," remarked the shepherd.