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The old beachmaster, his mane bristling with rage, made after him, but the younger bull, although he was forced to move on the stump of his wounded flipper, held fast to his prize, even when the victor inflicted a fourth fearful wound.

Further round, at "W" Beach, another lodgment had been effected; very desperate and bloody, we are told by the Naval Beachmaster: and indeed we can see some of the dead, but the Lancashire Fusiliers hold the beach though we don't seem yet to have penetrated inland. By Sedd-el-Bahr, where we hove to about 6.45, the light was very baffling; land wrapped in haze, sun full in our eyes.

Those huge monarchs of the waterside eyed her closely, but the harems were full to the last inch of ground and they let her pass, the cow seal remaining quiet as long as the beachmaster was watching, then creeping on a yard or two. "She'll get caught by the next one," said Colin. "See, there's just about room enough in his harem for one more."

Then, seizing his chance, the old beachmaster let go his hold upon the other's back and got in a crashing blow at the same point where he had torn open the neck before, this time sinking his teeth so far in that the muscle of the shoulder showed plainly, and an instant later, although there seemed scarcely time to strike a second blow, he swept down the body with his long, sharp teeth, catching the younger at the flipper-joint, and inflicting a wound almost exactly similar to that which he had received.

The date on the sketch shows it to have been made before the cow-seals hauled up. "Why not?" "He couldn't leave his own harem without getting into the next one. Obviously!" the agent promptly replied. "And he'd have to fight that beachmaster. Evidently! And so on every few feet he went. Besides, the very moment his back was turned a neighboring bull would steal some of his cows. Certainly!

There are a lot of native words for seals, but we only use that one and 'kotickie' for the pups." "If the cow seals bleat," said Colin, "and the pups 'baa' like a lamb, what is the cry of the beachmaster?" "He makes the most noise," the agent said. "Never stops. Can you hear a long hoarse roar? Sounds like a lion!" "Of course I can hear it," the boy answered; "I thought that must be a sea-lion."