Маугли

           Kotickthoughtthatthatwasgoodadvice,soheswamroundtohisownbeach,hauledout,andsleptforhalfanhour,twitchingallover,assealswill.ThenheheadedstraightforWalrusIslet,alittlelowsheetofrockyislandalmostduenortheastfromNovastoshnah,allledgesandrockandgulls’nests,wherethewalrusherdedbythemselves.

           HelandedclosetooldSeaVitch—thebig,ugly,bloated,pimpled,fat-necked,long-tuskedwalrusoftheNorthPacific,whohasnomannersexceptwhenheisasleep—ashewasthen,withhishindflippershalfinandhalfoutofthesurf.

           "Wakeup!"barkedKotick,forthegullsweremakingagreatnoise.

           "Hah!Ho!Hmph!What’sthat?"saidSeaVitch,andhestruckthenextwalrusablowwithhistusksandwakedhimup,andthenextstruckthenext,andsoontilltheywereallawakeandstaringineverydirectionbuttherightone.

           "Hi!It’sme,"saidKotick,bobbinginthesurfandlookinglikealittlewhiteslug.

           "Well!MayIbe—skinned!"saidSeaVitch,andtheyalllookedatKotickasyoucanfancyaclubfullofdrowsyoldgentlemenwouldlookatalittleboy.Kotickdidnotcaretohearanymoreaboutskinningjustthen;hehadseenenoughofit.Sohecalledout:"Isn’tthereanyplaceforsealstogowheremendon’tevercome?"

           "Goandfindout,"saidSeaVitch,shuttinghiseyes."Runaway.We’rebusyhere."