"Great guns! he's a snorter, isn't he? You could hear that battle-cry of his nearly a mile off, at night, when the weather is decently calm as to-day," came from Captain Andy while he slowed down the panting motor-boat in order that the scouts might have a good view of the angry sea-calf--another name for the harbor seal--which Nixon yearned to see, and which was so absorbed in wreaking vengeance on a flippered rival that it paid no attention at all to the approaching launch. "Gee whiz! isn't he a monster?"--"Must be five or six feet long!"--"Can't he make the foam fly, though?"--"You'd think he owned the river!" came at intervals from the gasping spectators. "_Nom-de-tonnerre!_ she's _gros_ seal: shes mak de watere go lak' scramble de egg--engh?" gurgled Toiney, mixing up his pronouns in guttural excitement over this river duel, such as he had witnessed once before, when two male seals contested for the favor of some marbled sweetheart. In this case the duelists were evidently unevenly matched, for presently a wild cry came from Scout Nixon:-- "See! See! he has him by the throat now. That big fellow has his fangs in the other seal's throat! Must have! For he's dragging him along to that little creek! He's going to kill him." "_Mille tonnerres!_ I'll t'ink shes go for choke heem, me: dat's de tam he'll go deaded sure--engh?" Thus Toiney came gutturally in on the excited duet, as seven strained faces peered over the motor-boat's side at the one-sided battle. "_Mille tonnerres_"--"a thousand thunders"--were being launched, indeed, upon the spotted head of the weaker animal, half stunned by the furious blows rained on him by the clawed hind-flippers of his adversary, and now finding himself dragged, willy-nilly, through the water into the secluded creek, like a prisoner to the block. He tried diving, to loosen those cruel fangs, but was mercilessly forced to the surface again by his big rival. "Well! I think this fight has gone on long enough; I'm going to separate them," cried Captain Andy. "I guess the tide is high enough for us to overhaul them in that little creek, without danger of being pocketed, or hung up aground, there!" And with a warning _chug! chug!_ the power-boat Aviator made straight for the bubbling mouth of the creek, across the foamy wake left by the fighting seals, and dashed in after them. Not until it was almost upon them did the triumphant male tear his four fangs from his rival's throat. Then, startled at last, he swam off a few strokes in a wild flurry, and dove, while Captain Andy drove his throbbing boat in between the combatants.