“It—it can’t be anything very big,” suggested Dot. “At least, it must be awfully narrow to get down through the little hole, and pull itself ’way out of sight.”
This suggestion certainly opened a puzzling vista of possibilities to the minds of both inland-bred girls. What sort of an animal could possibly crawl into such a small aperture—and yet throw such a comparatively powerful stream of water into the air?
They found several more of the little air-holes. Whenever they stamped upon the sand beside one, up would spring the fountain!
“Just like the books say a whale squirts water through its nose,” declared Tess, who had rather a rough-and-ready knowledge of some facts of natural history.
A man with a basket on his arm and a four-pronged, short-handled rake in his hand, was working his way across the flats; sometimes stooping and digging quickly with his rake, when he would pick something up and toss it into his basket.
He drew near to two Corner House girls, and Dot whispered to Tess:
“Do you suppose he’d know what these holes are for? You ask him, Tess.”
“And he’s digging out something, himself. Do you suppose he’s collecting clams? Ruth says clams grow here on the shore and folks dig them,” Tess replied.
“Let’s ask about the holes,” determined Dot, who was persistent whether the cause was good or bad.
The two girls approached the clam-digger, hand in hand. Dot hugged tight in the crook of one arm her Alice-doll.