Sometimes a "craw," as Marjorie called them, darted away backward in a
great hurry, and had to be looked for under another stone, and these
were generally young active fellows, which, the fisherman said, made the
best bait for bass. It was wild, exciting work, with a spice of danger
in it from the chance of a nip from those terrible claws. Marjorie
enjoyed it to the full. She laughed and shrieked, and clapped her hands
over every new addition to the pickle bottle, and Mr. Biggles was every
bit as enthusiastic as she was. Soon they were aware of a third figure
on the scene. It was the sleepless lawyer. "Come in, Eugene," cried
Marjorie; "take off your shoes and stockings, and help us to catch these
lovely craws." He had to obey, and was soon as excited as the others
over this novel kind of sport.
Coristine looked up after securing his twelfth victim, and saw four
figures sauntering down the hill. Three were young ladies in print
morning gowns; the fourth was the ineffable dude, Lamb. At once he went
back, and put himself into socks and boots, turning down his trouser
legs, as if innocent of the childish amusement.
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