“If you could let me have a couple, I’d like it.”
The man held out two medium-sized ones.
“Fifty cents,” he said.
“All right.” Tom dived into his pocket, brought up the money and pulled up to the dory, where the exchange was made.
“Guess you never see no hens like them afore,” chuckled the lobsterman as he rowed away. “An’, say, don’t pet ’em much; they might peck yer!”
The lobsters were in the bottom of the tender, and as he rowed back to the launch Tom was careful to keep his feet out of their reach. When he had made fast and carefully lifted the lobsters on board, he put his head into the engine room and listened. Not a sound reached him save the peaceful breathing of his companions. That appeared to put an idea into Tom’s head. With a malicious smile, he tiptoed across to the lobsters, took one gingerly in each hand, and descended to the stateroom. There he placed the lobsters in the middle of the space between the berths, where they would each show to the best advantage, kicked off his sneakers, carefully closed the hatch and the doors, and finally crept back to bed. Once under the covers, he threw his arms out and yawned loudly. That not having the desired effect, he called sleepily to Dan:
“Time to get up, Dan! It’s most half-past seven! Da-a-an!”
“Huh?”
“Time to get up, you lazy chump!”
“Wha-what time is it?” asked Dan fretfully.