"Hold on, there! Don't you do it!" cried Frank as Bluff gave indications of being half inclined to betake himself to the water.
"Why not?" asked the hungry oyster fiend plaintively.
"Because you'll cut your shoes to ribbons on the sharp edges, and perhaps your feet, in the bargain. Remember what you got before," said Frank.
So the impatient one refrained, but he cast many envious looks downward, and a little later could have been seen stretched out on his stomach, prying off bunches of the 'coon oysters with a knife, and enjoying a little side treat.
It was easy to run upon the reef, but to get off was another matter, especially with a falling tide. The motor churned the water, but at first seemed to make no impression. Even when all the boys went aft, so as to lighten the bow, there was no release.
"Something's holding her, I tell you! It may be one of those octopus fish we hear so much about," suggested Will.
Jerry, who had been pulling on a pair of heavy old shoes, with the intention of going overboard, so as to put his shoulder to the bow, and lifting while the motor worked, looked a little dubious.
"Humbug! Can't be any such thing, eh, Frank?" he asked, turning to the one in whose opinion he always felt the most implicit faith.
"What's holding her is that ridge of 'coon oysters. They grip like all creation, Joe, here, says. Wait till I get some old shoes on, Jerry, and I'll be with you," he observed.
Presently both of them were over in the water, which only came to their knees.