Our Young Folks at Home and Abroad Part 45

What should we see but a little creature, grotesque and hideous, that made its way round in the water, with astounding celerity, throwing out legs or claws, or whatever they were, from every point of its circ.u.mference. Its body was flat and was a green color above and pink under, and to add to its alarming appearance, it looked at us with two black eyes, in a very sinister and uncanny manner. We looked at each other with blanched faces and speechless horror, and then kept a sharp lookout, lest it might take it into its head (we couldn't tell if it had any head, for the place where the eyes were, did not seem different from any other part of its body,) take it into its "internal consciousness," to crawl out on to the rocks and chase us. It got through the water in a distracting manner, which was really quite amusing after a few moments, and from being horribly frightened, we became interested when we found it did not attempt the offensive. We gave it some lunch and called it "Jack Deadeye," and for the whole afternoon he was the center of attraction.

"Let us take him back with us," I proposed. "We can get him into a pail, and then we can have him in some pool nearer home, and see what he'll turn into. I don't believe but what he'll be something else in a few days."

My knowledge of natural history had always been lamentably meager, and more than once I had brought the laugh upon myself by my ignorance. So I forbore to predict what would be his ultimate form of beauty.

"A whale!" said Susie Champney.

"Oh, dear, no; whales don't have legs and claws," said Estella Bascom.

"It's a tadpole."

"You're mistaken there," said Mamie Fitz Hugh; "tadpoles are just the little jokers that do have tails. I've seen hundreds of them, and this creature has no tail."

We all rushed again to the edge of the rocks to look at him, with added wonder.

"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 splas.h.i.+ng, 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 monsters.h.i.+p 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:

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOW MANY GIRLS DID IT TAKE TO LAND HIM?]

"How many girls did it take to land him?" "Was he gamey, Flossie?"

"Did ye bait him with a clam-sh.e.l.l, or an old boot? they'll snap at any thing."

"Oh! I'd given away my dinner to have been there!" and then Regy would stir him up with a stick, and turn him on his back, all of which caused me to scream every time, and sent tremors all over me.

"What-cher goin' to do with him?" inquired Willie.

"I shall study his habitudes, and improve my knowledge of the crustacea," said I, giving him a sentence directly out of my text-book. "I shall look at him every day."

"Yes, and he'll look at you every night. I have read a book that told about a traveler that offended a crab once, and he informed the other crabs, and they all made for him at night, and twenty thousand of them came that night and crept under his tent, and sat there and looked at him. And there he was in the middle of them, and you know their eyes are fastened in their heads by a string, and they can throw them out of their heads and draw them back again; and, at a signal, they all threw their eyes at him. He was so horrified that night, that he got insane and had to be sent to a lunatic asylum."

"I've heard your stories before, Regy, and I simply don't credit them.

We girls are going to hunt up a pond to put him in, where we can pet him, and educate him."

"You'd best hunt up a frying pan to put him in; he's capital eating for breakfast, well browned, with hard-boiled eggs and parsley round him," said Reginald.

I told him if he couldn't do any better than to lie there and make an exhibition of his bad taste and ignorance, he'd better get up and work off the fit. I insisted upon his helping me to fill the pail with salt water, and hang him upon the rocks until we could make a future, permanent disposal of him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHERE WE CAN PET AND EDUCATE HIM."]

That evening our parlor manners were somewhat less decorous and elegant, owing to the fact that Reginald and Willie had been industriously circulating the episode of the morning, with such additions as they thought would add point and piquancy, among the rest of the boys, and there was no end of innuendo and witticism indulged in, that caused the young gentlemen to retire in groups and laugh; and we could hear such remarks as, "d.i.c.k, there was a whale hooked on this coast this afternoon, did you know it?" Or, "I think Jack Deadeye is the most comical character in Pinafore, he's so crabbed."

The girls of our party stood it as they best could; and in the morning we stole out to look at our prize, after the boys had gone off, but the tide had swept Jack and the pail out to sea.

It was a long time before we heard the last of it, however.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {A SMALL SAILING BOAT.}]

MAX AND BEPPO.

Down by the lake they trotted, All the summer day; Max and Beppo never plotted Yet, to run away.

Two little donkey pets, Oh, I loved them so!

When I was in Switzerland, just a year ago.

How they liked bananas!

And our apples sweet; They had lovely manners, Every thing they'd eat.

Then, I'd rub their furry ears, and they'd shake their bells, While old driver Raspar, funny stories tells.

Max turns round and winks so pretty, Little, sharp round eyes; Beppo sings a jolly ditty, Quite to our surprise.

Then we mount, and off we go, up and down the mall, Never do they careless trip, never make a fall.

Once, a princess royal Wanted little Max; How to part those friends so loyal, Her little brain she racks.

She would give her gold and silver, in a little purse, Then throw in for measure good, her scolding English nurse!

Then she cried, and chattered All her pretty French, And her little feet she pattered, On the rustic bench.

"My papa is king," she said, "and I'd have you know, I shall have the donkey, and to prison shall you go."

How their tiny feet would scamper, Up the valley blue, Carrying each his generous hamper, And his rider, too.

Sure of foot, they'd clamber round the mountain spur Where the foot-sore tourist scarcely dared to stir.

In this bright, suns.h.i.+ny weather, I remember with a sigh, We no more can play together, Beppo, Max and I.

Never dearer friends exist, in this world below, Than I made in Switzerland, just a year ago.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {PANSIES.}]