“Well, we’ll take that tad home on a pole, any way,” said Nannie White, who was the cutest girl to say things in the whole crowd. She immediately ran off to secure a piece of drift that was tumbling about on the wet sand. But how to get him into a pail was the next problem. A committee of the whole was called. I thought we could obstruct his path by putting the mouth of the pail in front of him, and then when he sailed into it, we could instantly pull him out. This was decided upon; but how to get it down to him without falling in? A bright idea struck me. I whipped off my flannel sash, and running it through the handle, dashed it into the water; but that proceeding only frightened him—we must move more cautiously. We worked for an hour and had him in twice, but were so excited both times that he escaped.
First time, Totty Rainsford shouted, “We’ve got him!” and immediately rolled off the rocks, head first, into the water. We were all so scared, with the water splashing, and she screaming at the top of her voice, “Save me! Save me!” that Jack got away. She scrambled out pretty lively, and when we got him in again, we were all seized with another fit of laughing at Totty, who, in her moist predicament, was jumping round to dry herself, because she didn’t want to go home, that he crawled out as leisurely as possible. But we secured him at last, safe in the pail; and to prevent his crawling out, I clapped my sailor hat over the top of it, and the elastic kept it down tight. We put the pole through the handle and Estella and myself took hold of the ends, and we came near losing him every few minutes, owing to the inequalities of the ground. The pail would slide down to either end, as the pole inclined, and Estella would drop it and scream when she saw the pail traveling noiselessly toward her, and if it hadn’t been for my happy thought of putting the hat over him, he’d have got away to his “happy hunting grounds,” or rather, waters, in short order.
We arrived at the hotel at last, with Jack all safe, and the rest of the girls went to dress for dinner, and left me to find the boys, to help me deposit him in a secure place, for we were sure we should very greatly astonish the boarders and achieve renown as having discovered a new species of marine beast.
The boys were in a perfect ecstacy of curiosity to see what the girls had caught. When I carefully took off the hat, I found the water had all leaked out, and his monstership lay kicking and crawling at the bottom.
“Ho! ho! ho!” shouted Willie, “is that what-cher call a curiosity?”
“Oh, Flossie! you have been dreadfully taken in,” said Regy.
“Oh, no,” I said, “it’s this wonderful animal that’s been ‘taken in,’ and he’s going to be kept in, too.”
I began to feel, though, that there was a great laugh somewhere in the future, and that it was coming at our expense.
“Why, Flossie! it’s nothing but a baby crab,” said Regy. “I can get a peck of them in an hour, over in the river.”
I felt greatly chagrined, and blushed with mortification. The boys kept bursting out laughing every few minutes, asking such questions as: