Part 2 (1/2)

”If I knew,” he said, ”I'd tell you. But, come to think of it, I'd be a fool to go into details with a scientific man. You'll hear about the harbor-master--perhaps you will see the harbor-master. In that event I should be glad to converse with you on the subject.”

I could not help laughing at his prim and precise manner, and, after a moment, he also laughed, saying:

”It hurts a man's vanity to know he knows a thing that somebody else knows he doesn't know. I'm d.a.m.ned if I say another word about the harbor-master until you've been to Halyard's!”

”A harbor-master,” I persisted, ”is an official who superintends the mooring of s.h.i.+ps--isn't he?”

But he refused to be tempted into conversation, and we lounged silently on the lumber until a long, thin whistle from the locomotive and a rush of stinging salt-wind brought us to our feet. Through the trees I could see the bluish-black ocean, stretching out beyond black headlands to meet the clouds; a great wind was roaring among the trees as the train slowly came to a stand-still on the edge of the primeval forest.

Lee jumped to the ground and aided me with my rifle and pack, and then the train began to back away along a curved side-track which, Lee said, led to the mica-pit and company stores.

”Now what will you do?” he asked, pleasantly. ”I can give you a good dinner and a decent bed to-night if you like--and I'm sure Mrs. Lee would be very glad to have you stop with us as long as you choose.”

I thanked him, but said that I was anxious to reach Halyard's before dark, and he very kindly led me along the cliffs and pointed out the path.

”This man Halyard,” he said, ”is an invalid. He lives at a cove called Black Harbor, and all his truck goes through to him over the company's road. We receive it here, and send a pack-mule through once a month.

I've met him; he's a bad-tempered hypochondriac, a cynic at heart, and a man whose word is never doubted. If he says he has a great auk, you may be satisfied he has.”

My heart was beating with excitement at the prospect; I looked out across the wooded headlands and tangled stretches of dune and hollow, trying to realize what it might mean to me, to Professor Farrago, to the world, if I should lead back to New York a live auk.

”He's a crank,” said Lee; ”frankly, I don't like him. If you find it unpleasant there, come back to us.”

”Does Halyard live alone?” I asked.

”Yes--except for a professional trained nurse--poor thing!”

”A man?”

”No,” said Lee, disgustedly.

Presently he gave me a peculiar glance; hesitated, and finally said: ”Ask Halyard to tell you about his nurse and--the harbor-master.

Good-bye--I'm due at the quarry. Come and stay with us whenever you care to; you will find a welcome at Port-of-Waves.”

We shook hands and parted on the cliff, he turning back into the forest along the railway, I starting northward, pack slung, rifle over my shoulder. Once I met a group of quarrymen, faces burned brick-red, scarred hands swinging as they walked. And, as I pa.s.sed them with a nod, turning, I saw that they also had turned to look after me, and I caught a word or two of their conversation, whirled back to me on the sea-wind.

They were speaking of the harbor-master.

III

Towards sunset I came out on a sheer granite cliff where the sea-birds were whirling and clamoring, and the great breakers dashed, rolling in double-thundered reverberations on the sun-dyed, crimson sands below the rock.

Across the half-moon of beach towered another cliff, and, behind this, I saw a column of smoke rising in the still air. It certainly came from Halyard's chimney, although the opposite cliff prevented me from seeing the house itself.

I rested a moment to refill my pipe, then resumed rifle and pack, and cautiously started to skirt the cliffs. I had descended half-way towards the beech, and was examining the cliff opposite, when something on the very top of the rock arrested my attention--a man darkly outlined against the sky. The next moment, however, I knew it could not be a man, for the object suddenly glided over the face of the cliff and slid down the sheer, smooth lace like a lizard. Before I could get a square look at it, the thing crawled into the surf--or, at least, it seemed to--but the whole episode occurred so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that I was not sure I had seen anything at all.

However, I was curious enough to climb the cliff on the land side and make my way towards the spot where I imagined I saw the man. Of course, there was nothing there--not a trace of a human being, I mean.

Something _had_ been there--a sea-otter, possibly--for the remains of a freshly killed fish lay on the rock, eaten to the back-bone and tail.