"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. "n.o.body 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 sh.e.l.lfish 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."

"n.o.body else does," said George. "We come to the seash.o.r.e 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 s.h.a.ggy 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 ba.s.s. 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!"