"Built it this spring," he said, surveying his handiwork, which seemed
to undulate as the cars swept past. "It runs to the cove--or ought
to--" He stopped abruptly with a thoughtful glance at me.

"So you're going over to Halyard's?" he continued, as though answering
a question asked by himself.

I nodded.

"You've never been there--of course?"

"No," I said, "and I'm not likely to go again."

I would have told him why I was going if I had not already begun to
feel ashamed of my idiotic errand.

"I guess you're going to look at those birds of his," continued Lee,
placidly.

"I guess I am," I said, sulkily, glancing askance to see whether he
was smiling.

But he only asked me, quite seriously, whether a great auk was really
a very rare bird; and I told him that the last one ever seen had been
found dead off Labrador in January, 1870. Then I asked him whether
these birds of Halyard's were really great auks, and he replied,
somewhat indifferently, that he supposed they were--at least, nobody
had ever before seen such birds near Port-of-Waves.