There need have been nothing very serious in that, but Dick Lee was more than ordinarily averse to anything like physical pain, and the crab which had seized him by the toe was a very muscular and vicious specimen of his quarrelsome race.
The first consequence was a momentary dance up and down in the punt, accompanied by vigorous howling from Dick, but not a word of any sort from the crab. The next consequence was that the crab let go, but so, at the same instant, did the rotten board in the boat-bottom upon which Dick Lee had so rashly danced.
DICK LEE IN TROUBLE.
It let go of the rest of the boat so suddenly that poor Dick had only time for one tremendous yell as it let him right down through to his armpits. The water was perfectly smooth, but the boat was full in an instant, and nearly a bushel of freshly caught and ill-tempered crabs were maneuvering in all directions around the woolly head which was all their late captor could now keep in sight.
"Up with the grapnel, Ford," shouted Dab. "Take an oar! We'll both row. He can swim like a duck, but he might split his throat."
"Or get scared to death."
"Or eaten up by the crabs."