Dab Kinzer and his friend were prompt enough coming to the rescue of
their unfortunate fellow-lubber; but to get him out of the queer wreck
he had made of that punt looked like a tough task to both of them, and
they said as much.

"I isn't drownin'," exclaimed Dick heroically, as the other boat was
pulled alongside of him. "Jest you take your scoop-net, and save dem
crabs."

"They won't drown," said Ford.

"But they'll get away," said Dab, as he snatched up the scoop. "Dick's
head is perfectly level on that point."

The side-boards of the old punt were under water half the time, but the
crabs were pretty well penned in. Even a couple of them, that had
mistaken Dick's wool for another sheep's-head, were secured without
difficulty, in spite of the firmness with which they clung to their
prize.

"What luck he'd been having!" said Ford.

"He always does," said Dab. "I say, Dick, how'll I scoop you in?"

"Has you done got all de crabs?"

"Every pinner of 'em."