ng to it.

E. E. was busy as a bee on her side of the boat, Dempster ladled the
animals up for her, till we had a couple of dozen trying to creep away,
and fighting each other like chickens in a coop.

By this time I could see that E. E., like a good many other people I
could mention, was getting sort of restless for other attentions than
those her husband could give. She kept casting side-glances at Mr.
Burke, and at last says she to Dempster:

"Dempster, it isn't expected that a man should always be a-hanging about
his wife. It's time for you to do some netting for Phoemie."

E. E. said this almost in a whisper, but I heard it, and all the temper
in me riled up to my throat.

Sisters, this married woman was just dying to change off her husband for
the beau that was devoting all his energies to me. I felt that the
crisis had come that self-interest and a high moral standard demanded
that I should keep this man from the lure of a married woman. I owed it
to myself, to Dempster, and, above all, to the cause of morality, to
hold that man firmly to his post.

"Phoemie," says Dempster, coming up to me and looking as if butter
wouldn't melt in his mouth, "let me scoop for you?"

Before I could speak Mr. Burke took that nefarious hint and went over to
E. E.

I gave Dempster a look of withering contempt, and flung my bait out with
a splash that must have scared all the crabs out of a year's growth.

"No," says I, "you may be willing to desert the marital outposts, but I
will not help you. Go back to your wife; I can catch all the crabs I
want without help."

"Well, just as you like," says Dempster, and, settling down on the bow
of the boat, he pulled his hat over his eyes and went to sleep, then and
there.

Three crabs come up to my bait--nibble, nibble, nibble. I drew in the
line, they crawled through the water after it. Still I drew and drew.
Three great plump fellows came to the top of the water. It was a good
chance to call Burke away. He was leaning over E. E. and whispering,
while she listened.

"Here, here!" screamed I, "three at a haul. Will nobody help me?"

That man did not seem to hear me, but kept on whispering, while E. E.
listened with a smile on her lips and her eyes half shut. The sight made
me awful mad.

"I'll catch them myself," says I, and down I plunged my hand into the
water. I meant to grip the crab, but he gripped me.

Oh, mercy, how he pinched and bit, and screwed his claws around my