found the hole in the top, and squeezed herself right down through
it, all eyes and teeth. But no sooner was her head inside than
valiant Mr. Lobster caught her by the nose and held on.

And there they were all three in the pot, rolling over and over,
and very tight packing it was. And the lobster tore at the otter,
and the otter tore at the lobster, and both squeezed and thumped
poor Tom till he had no breath left in his body; and I don't know
what would have happened to him if he had not at last got on the
otter's back, and safe out of the hole.

He was right glad when he got out: but he would not desert his
friend who had saved him; and the first time he saw his tail
uppermost he caught hold of it, and pulled with all his might.

But the lobster would not let go.

"Come along," said Tom; "don't you see she is dead?" And so she
was, quite drowned and dead.

And that was the end of the wicked otter.

But the lobster would not let go.

"Come along, you stupid old stick-in-the-mud," cried Tom, "or the
fisherman will catch you!" And that was true, for Tom felt some
one above beginning to haul up the pot.

But the lobster would not let go. Tom saw the fisherman haul him
up to the boat-side, and thought it was all up with him. But when