Remembering that, according to some wiseheads, sea water kindly gives no chills, she had no fear for herself; so she lay down upon a patch of nice warm pebbles, of which she took a handful, and began idly throwing them one by one into the tide, which was running up to her feet faster than it retreated at the ebbing of the waves.
She was beginning to tire of this pastime when—plash! the last stone she threw fell plump into a sandy pool, out of which there hurried an enormous Crab. Dulcie was frightened, for the ugly creature had espied his disturber and was coming towards her at a quick amble, sideways. She turned and fled towards the Cliff, and a turn of the head showed her that her dreadful pursuer was not far behind. Up the arduous steps she climbed, stumbling every now and again in her hurry and excitement—those steps down which she had tripped so gaily with her brother. Again she turned to look behind her, this time with a feeling that here she must be safe.
But the great Crab was coming up the steps too. Flushed and gasping, she arrived at last on top of the Cliff amongst the wild flowers once more.
There, too, over the top appeared the terrifying creature. It was seemingly quite fresh, and was gaining rapidly upon her, for now she was quite tired out.
She could run no more. So poor Dulcie turned, and facing her pursuer, she cried—
"Oh, please, please go away—oh do, please!"
But the ugly Crab never lessened its pace one bit; it came nearer and nearer—so close that she could notice how it was shaking all over; and how repulsive—till—till she saw that it was wearing something glittering around its body—a band of gold with one last catseye and the others all gone. It must be Cyril. Why didn't he change? Dulcie couldn't imagine. The creature stopped motionless, and tears were dropping from its ugly eyes.
"What can be wrong?" cried Dulcie with a sob of horror and fear. But she conquered her fear now that she was persuaded it was Cyril, and she approached still closer. She stroked it—actually stroked it—and although it was just a great horrid Crab the expression it wore was heart-rending.
"It's the Wizard's trick!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Poor Cyril's last catseye won't work!" She never thought how many she still had, for she was weeping bitterly over her brother in this dreadful guise, and she could hardly wonder what the end would be, if this indeed were not the horrible end of all.
"Oh, Cyril," she sobbed, addressing it. "Oh, Cyril, how dreadfully changed you are! Whoever heard of having a crab for one's brother If only we had remained Twins all this never could have happened!" And she walked round and round it, wringing her hands in despair. But evidently the poor quaking thing was powerless to give a shred of comfort, and its whole appearance was helpless and hopeless in the extreme.