other Bunker helped the children
land theirs in the net. And, after about an hour of fishing, the peach
basket was full of the big-clawed crabs.

"I think we have enough," said Cousin Tom. "We will take them home and
cook them. Then we can eat them cold-boiled with lemon juice on them, or
they can be made into a salad."

"Catching crabs is lots of fun," said Russ.

"Eating them is good, too," said his father.

They rowed back home, and found Cousin Ruth waiting for them at the
bungalow.

"Oh, you did have good luck," said Cousin Tom's wife. "A whole
basketful! Well, I'll soon have the water boiling and we'll cook them."

The basket full of live crabs was set in the kitchen, and the six little
Bunkers and the others went out on the porch to rest and wait for the
water to boil. Russ, a little later, wanted a drink, and, going into the
kitchen, he turned to go to the sink. He was barefooted, and suddenly he
felt a sharp pain on one toe.

"Oh, I'm bit! I'm bit!" he cried. "Something pinched me!"

And then, as he looked at the kitchen floor, he cried:

"Oh, come quick! Come quick! They're loose! They're all loose!"

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