“It’s a crab,” said Ted. “Look at him play ’possum.”
Ruth poked at the shell diligently, until she turned it over on its back.
“It’s a horse-shoe crab,” she said. “They call them king crabs too. They shed their shells, and then they are the soft shelled crabs. They’re regular fighters unless you catch one with a new shell, then he’s tame enough.”
“What are hermit crabs, Ruth?” asked Sue.
“I don’t know why they call them hermits, unless it’s because they steal other shells and live in them.”
“Hermits don’t do that, Ruth. They’re just people who isolate themselves from the world.”
“Well, these crabs like to live all by themselves. They hunt up snails, and eat the snail and steal its shell. Sometimes two crabs will fight over the same shell.”
“Just like people,” Sue said. “I think it’s awfully queer how much people and animals and fishes and everything look and act alike. Maybe we’re much closer related than we think.”
“Now, Sue, I refuse to have this crab’s pedigree traced to mine,” laughed Kate. “Throw him back into the sea.”
“That’s good,” said Crullers, solemnly. “Maybe he’s the father of a large family.”