THE WALKING FISH
Laddie dropped his fishing-pole. Russ let go of his crab-line, and they
both stood looking at the dog and at the strange boy. The dog was
howling, and trying to paw off from his nose a queer and ugly-looking
fish that had hold of it. It was the fish Laddie had caught and which
the boy had called a "Sallie Growler."
"Cousin Tom told us about them last night," thought Russ. "I wonder why
they have such a funny name, and what makes 'em bite so."
But he did not ask the questions aloud just then. There was too much
going on to let him do this.
The dog was howling, and the new boy was yelling, at the same time
striking at the fish on the end of his dog's nose.
"Take him off! Take off that Sallie Growler!" yelled the boy.
But the brown fish Laddie had caught looked too ugly and savage. Neither
of the little Bunkers was going to touch it and the new boy did not seem
to want to any more than did Russ or Laddie.
As for the dog, he could not help himself. The fish had hold of him; he
didn't have hold of the fish.
Finally, after much howling and pawing, the dog either knocked the fish
off his nose, or the Sallie Growler let go of its own accord and lay on
the pier.
"Poor Teddy!" said the boy as he bent over his pet to pat him. "Did he
hurt you a lot?" The dog whimpered and wagged his tail. He did not seem
to be badly hurt, though there were some spots of blood on his nose.
"I guess he'll be all right if the Sallie Growler doesn't poison him,"
said the boy. "How'd you come to catch it?" he asked, looking from
Laddie to Russ.
"I didn't want to catch it," said Laddie. "I was fishing for good fish
and I got a bite and pulled _that_ up!" and he pointed to the ugly
brown fish that lay gasping on the boards.
"Is it a Sallie Growler?" asked Russ.
"It is," said the new boy. "And they can bite like anything. Look how
that one held on to my dog's nose."
"I hope he isn't hurt much," put in Laddie. "I didn't mean to do it."
"No, I guess you didn't," said the other boy. "Nobody ever tries to
catch a Sallie Growler. They're too nasty and hard to get off the hook.
'Most always they swallow it, but this one didn't. He dropped off just
as you landed him and then my dog came along and smelled him--Teddy's
always smelling something--and the fish bit him."
"Do you live around here?" asked Russ.
"Yes, we're here for the summer. I guess I saw you down on the beach
last night roasting marshmallows, didn't I?"
"Yes, and we gave your dog some," returned Laddie. "What's your name?"
"George Carr. What's yours?"
"Laddie Bunker."
"Mine's Russ," said Laddie's brother. "Oh, look! I guess I've got a
crab!"
He ran to where he had tied the end of his string to a post of the pier,
and began to pull in. Surely enough, on the end was a big blue-clawed
crab, and, with the help of Laddie, who used the net, the creature was
soon landed on the pier.
"Here! You keep away from that crab!" called George Carr to his dog
Teddy. "Do you want your nose bit again?"
And from the way the crab raised its claws in the air, snapping them
shut, it would seem that the shellfish would have been very glad indeed
to pinch the dog's nose. But Teddy had learned a lesson. He kept well
away from the gasping Sallie Growler, too.
"What makes 'em be called Sallie Growler?" asked Laddie, as he and Russ
looked at the fish. It was very ugly, with a head shaped like a toad,
and a very big mouth.
"I don't know why they call 'em Sallie," said George; "but they call 'em
Growler 'cause they do growl. Sometimes you can hear 'em grunting under
the water. There goes this one now!"
Just as he spoke the fish did give a sort of groan or growl. It opened
its mouth, gasping for breath.
"They're no good--worse than a toad fish!" exclaimed George, as he
kicked the one Laddie had caught into the water.
"Are there many around here?" asked Russ.
"Yes, quite a lot in the inlet," answered George. "They don't bite on
crab-meat bait, but if you're fishing for fish they often swallow your
hook, bait and all. I don't like 'em, and I guess Teddy won't either
after to-day."
"Was he ever bit before?" Laddie wanted to know as the dog lay down on
the pier and began to lick his bitten nose with his tongue.
"Not that I know of," answered George, who was a little older than Russ.
"Once is enough. I wouldn't want one to bite me."
"Me, neither," added Russ. "Want to help catch crabs?" he asked George.
"I have two lines and you can have one."
"Thanks, I will. I was out walking with my dog and I saw you two down on
this pier. I came to see if you were the same boys that gave my dog
marshmallows last night."
"Yes, we're the same," answered Russ. "Did he like the candy we fed
him?"
"Oh, sure! He always eats candy, but he doesn't get too much at our
house. Teddy's always smelling things. That's how he came to go up to
the Sallie Growler. I guess he'll let the next one alone."
"I hope I don't catch any more," said Laddie. "I don't like 'em."
"Nobody else does," said George. "We come to the seashore every year,
and I never saw anybody yet that liked a Sallie Growler."
Laddie, Russ and their new chum stayed on the pier for some time. Russ
and George caught quite a number of crabs, and Laddie had fine luck with
his fish-pole and line, landing three good-sized fish on the pier. He
caught no more Sallie Growlers, for which he was thankful. I guess Teddy
was, too, for his nose was quite sore.
For several days after that George came over each morning to play with
the two older Bunker boys. He brought his dog with him and Teddy made
friends over again with Rose and Violet and Margy and Mun Bun, as well
as with Russ and Laddie.
"I guess he 'members we gave him candy," said Margy, as she patted the
dog's shaggy head.
There were many happy days at Seaview. The six little Bunkers played in
the sand, they went wading and bathing and had picnics, more marshmallow
roasts and even popcorn parties on the beach.
"I don't ever want to go home," said Laddie one night after a day of fun
on the beach. "This is such a nice place. It's so good to think up
riddles."
"Have you a new one?" asked his father. "Have you thought up an answer
yet to where the fire goes when it goes out?"
"Not yet," Laddie answered. "But I have one about what is the sleepiest
letter of the alphabet."
"What is the sleepiest letter of the alphabet?" repeated Russ. "Do you
mean the letter I? That ought to be sleepy 'cause it's got an eye to
shut."
"No, I don't mean I," said Laddie. "But that's a good riddle, too, isn't
it? What's the sleepiest letter of the alphabet?"
"Do you know the answer?" Rose wanted to know. "This isn't like the
fire riddle, is it?"
"No, I know an answer to this," Laddie said. "Can anybody else answer
it?"
They all made different guesses, and Vi, as usual, asked all sort of
questions, but finally no one could guess, or, if Mother and Daddy
Bunker could, they didn't say so, and Laddie exclaimed:
"The sleepiest letter of the alphabet is E 'cause it's always in bed;
B-E-D, bed!" and he laughed at his riddle.
"That is a pretty good one," said his mother.
"You ought to say what are the three sleepiest letters in the alphabet,"
declared Russ, "'cause there are three letters in bed."
"Oh, well, one is enough for a riddle," said Laddie, and I think so
myself.
One day the children saw Daddy Bunker and Cousin Tom putting on long
rubber boots, and taking down heavy fishing-poles and some baskets.
"Where are you going?" asked Russ.
"Down to fish in the surf," answered his father. "Want to come?"
Russ and Laddie did. Rose and Violet were already trying to catch crabs
further up the inlet. Margy and Mun Bun had gone to take their afternoon
nap.
Laddie and Russ played about on the beach while their father and Cousin
Tom began to fish, throwing the heavy sinkers and big hooks far out in
the surf, trying to catch a bass. The men had to stand where the waves
broke, and that is why they wore rubber boots.
Suddenly Laddie, who had run down the beach to watch a big piece of
driftwood come floating in, called:
"Oh, Russ! Come here, quick! Here is a fish that's got legs! It's a fish
that can walk! It's worse than a Sallie Growler! Come and look at it!"