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Six Little Bunkers at Cousin Tom's, a novel by Laura Lee Hope |
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Chapter 13. In The Boat |
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_ CHAPTER XIII. IN THE BOAT Every one out on the porch of the bungalow jumped up on hearing Russ's cries. "What's the matter?" asked Mother Bunker. "What happened?" Daddy Bunker wanted to know. "Oh, they're all loose, and one of 'em bit me," wailed Russ, and now came sounds which seemed to indicate that he was hopping about on one foot, and holding the other in his hands. And he really was doing this, as they found out afterward. "Loose? They're all loose? What does he mean?" asked Rose. "It's the crabs!" exclaimed Cousin Tom, as he made a run for the kitchen. "I guess some of them got out of the basket. They will do that once in a while." Daddy and Mother Bunker, with Cousin Ruth, followed Cousin Tom to the kitchen, where Russ was still hopping about and yelling: "Oh, they're all loose! They're all loose, and one of 'em pinched me! Oh, dear!" "Don't cry, silly little boy!" called his mother. "A pinch by a crab can't hurt as much as that." "Oh, but it hurts like anything!" yelled Russ. "He 'most bit off my big toe!" By this time they were all in the kitchen. The rest of the six little Bunkers had followed their father and mother. They saw a queer sight. Crabs were crawling all over the floor. They had managed to wiggle out of the peach basket in which they had been put as they were caught from the boat. Cousin Tom had spread wet seaweed over the top of the basket, but this had not been enough to keep the crabs in. "Look, they're chasing us!" cried Rose, as a crab came sliding sideways over the oil-cloth, clashing its big claws. "They are only trying to get into the dark corners to hide," said Cousin Tom. "I'll pick them up." "Will they pinch you?" asked Laddie. "No, not if I pick them up by one of their back flippers," said his cousin. "There is a certain way to pick up a crab so he can't reach you with his claws." Just then a crab came toward Cousin Tom. He put out his foot, and held it tightly on the hard shell of the crab's back. Then, reaching behind the crab, and taking hold of one of the broad, flat swimming flippers, he lifted the crab up that way. The crab wiggled and tried to reach Cousin Tom with the pinching claws, but could not. "That's the way to do it," called out Cousin Tom, as he tossed the crab into the basket. "I can do it!" said Laddie, who liked to try new things. "You'd better not," advised his mother. "Look how the crab pinched Russ." "My toe's bleeding," said the little fellow, and so it was. A big crab can easily pinch hard enough to draw blood. "I'll tie it up for you," said his mother. "Perhaps you children had better not try to pick up Crabs the way Cousin Tom did," she went on. "You might make a mistake and get badly pinched." "Yes, let the children keep out of the way," agreed Daddy Bunker. "Cousin Tom and I will catch the crabs." Russ was led away, hopping on one foot, though if he had tried, he could easily have stepped on his sore foot. He was more frightened than hurt, I think. And then the other children followed him, though the twins would rather have staid. It was not easy to catch the crabs, for there were so many of them, and they scurried around so fast. But Cousin Tom picked them up in his fingers, and Daddy Bunker soon learned the trick of this. As for Cousin Ruth, she took the crab tongs, which were two pieces of wood fastened together on one end, like a pair of fire tongs. In these the crabs could be picked up either front or back, or even by one claw, and they could only pinch the wood, which they often did. "There, I think we have them all," said Cousin Tom at last. "And now, as the water is boiling, we can cook them." So the crabs were cooked, and set aside to cool until morning, when the white meat would be picked out of the red shells, and made into salad. "What makes the crabs red?" asked Violet the next morning as she saw the pile of cold, boiled creatures. "They were a sort of brown and green color when we caught them yesterday." "Yes," said her father, "crabs, lobsters and shrimps, when they are boiled, turn red. Just why this is I don't know. I suppose there is something in their shells that the hot water changes." "Can they pinch my toe now?" asked Mun Bun, as he stood near his mother, looking at the basket full of cooked crabs. "Nope! They can't hurt you now; they're cooked," Laddie replied. "I'm not 'fraid!" and he picked up a big crab, holding it by one of the claws. Vi then did the same thing. "Go ahead and take one, Mun Bun," urged Laddie. "No! I don't guess I want to," said the little fellow. "I know a riddle you could make up about a crab," said Rose, who had come to the kitchen to watch Cousin Ruth clean the shellfish. "What is it?" Laddie demanded instantly. "What color is a crab when it can't pinch?" sing-songed Rose. "And the answer is it's red when it can't pinch." "Yes, that is a pretty good riddle," said Laddie, as, with his head on one side, he thought it over. "But I know how to make it better," he went on. "How?" asked his mother. "Let me think a minute," he begged. "Oh, I have it! Why is a crab like a newspaper?" "'Tisn't!" exclaimed Russ who came along just then. He was limping a bit, for his toe was sore where the crab had pinched him. "Yes, 'tis!" declared Laddie. "That's the riddle. It's something like the one Rose told. Why is a crab like a newspaper?" "'Cause it folds its claws when it doesn't want to bite you?" asked Violet. "Nope!" "Tell us," suggested Russ. "Well, a crab is like a newspaper, 'cause when it's red it can't bite or pinch," Laddie said. "See?" "Huh! Yes, I see," murmured Russ. "A crab is like a newspaper because when it's red. Oh, I know! You mean when a newspaper is r-e-a-d. That's a different red from reading. But it's a good riddle all right, Laddie." "I didn't think of it all," said the little boy. "Rose helped." "Oh, well, you made a riddle out of it," his sister told him. "Here comes Cousin Ruth. I'm going to watch her clean the crabs." It was quite a lot of work to take the sweet, white meat out of the crab-shells, but Cousin Ruth knew the best way to do it. In about an hour she had a large bowl full of the picked-out meat, and the children--all except Mun Bun and Margy, who were too little to be allowed to eat any--said the crabs were better than fish. Daddy and Mother Bunker liked them, too. "Some of the crabs have awful big claws," remarked Russ after dinner, as he looked at a pile of the legs and claws. "I guess they could dig in the sand with 'em, the crabs could. They could dig deep holes." "I wish one would dig down and find my lost locket," said Rose with a sorrowful sigh. For, though they had all searched the sand near the bungalow beach over and over, there was no sign of the missing gold locket. "I guess we'll never find it," Rose went on with another sigh. "Not even if a crab could dig down deep." "Well, I'll dig some more," promised Laddie. "Vi and I are going to make some holes in the sand to play a new game, and maybe we'll find your locket that way." But they did not, and Rose, though she herself searched and dug in many places, could not find the ornament. There were many happy August days for the six little Bunkers at Cousin Tom's. They played in the sand, went crabbing and fishing, wading and swimming. One hot afternoon, when it was too warm to do more than sit in the shade, Mrs. Bunker, who had been lying on the porch in a hammock reading, laid aside her book and looked up. "Where has Mun Bun gone?" she asked Rose, who was playing jackstones near by. "And did Margy go with him?" "I don't know, Mother," Rose answered. "They were here a minute ago. I'll go and look for them." Just as Rose got up and as Mrs. Bunker arose from the hammock, a voice down near the shore of the inlet called: "Come back. Get out of that boat! Mother, Margy and Mun Bun are in the boat, and it's loose, and they're riding down the inlet and the tide's going out! Oh, Mother, hurry!" _ |
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