"Surf ducks--scoters and widgeon. There is one bufflehead among
them--no, two; the rest are coots," I replied.
"This," cried the professor, "is most astonishing. I have good eyes,
but I can't see a blessed thing without these binoculars!"
"It's not extraordinary," said I; "the surf ducks and coots any novice
might recognise; the widgeon and buffleheads I should not have been
able to name unless they had risen from the water. It is easy to tell
any duck when it is flying, even though it looks no bigger than a black
pin-point."
But the professor insisted that it was marvellous, and he said that I
might render him invaluable service if I would consent to come and camp
at Pine Inlet for a few weeks.
I looked at his daughter, but she turned her back--not exactly in
disdain either. Her back was beautifully moulded. Her gown fitted also.
"Camp out here?" I repeated, pretending to be unpleasantly surprised.
"I do not think he would care to," said Miss Holroyd without turning.