“Why, the Captain was tellin’ me the other day,” continued the boy, “that the tide at St. John turns the Falls of the river backward, making them as high the reverse way as they are in the usual direction.
“Besides, the Captain said the tide runs off of miles of sand-flats where the pigs go to feed on shell-fish and seaweed. Now listen, Fred! Do you believe this fairy-tale of the Captain’s? He said: ‘When the tide turns to come in it starts with a booming roar and the pigs know it by instinct as the death signal. At the first boom they turn tail and run squealing to high ground and safety.’”
“It may be as the Captain says, but I don’t see how the pigs can inherit that instinct of danger—the ones that learn of the penalty for lingering perish in the learning,” remarked the elder brother.
“I’d just like to go there some day and see for myself,” said Billy. “Now, old mola, even if this isn’t a Bay of Fundy tide, I hope you’ll be carried high and away for all time.”
“Yes, and good riddance to it!” added Fred, as the tow-line was thrown inboard and the boat was turned for home.
The next morning Paul and Dudley each had a small lobster in their traps and Fred consolingly remarked, “Well, that’s proof there’s some lobsters about, anyway.”
As the boat neared shore Paul jumped up and waved his cap. “Eliz-zabeth! E-ed-ith! Look—I got a lobster!”
The girls ran quickly to the float and called back, “Oh, hold it up—let’s see how big it is?”
Paul had watched Billy grasp a lobster in a most simple but effective way so he attempted to do likewise. Unfortunately, he didn’t take up the lobster in quite the same place and the air resounded with his shrieks.
He shook his imprisoned hand so violently that the claw snapped and the lobster dropped leaving its nipper still fastened in the boy’s middle finger. However, he was soon released and had to listen to Edith’s teasing laugh.