"I chopped a big piece out of your skirt," he said. "I hope you
don't mind. I happened to have the string off the sandwich bundle in
my pocket, and I squeezed up a head and tied it."

Greg was a little frightened when Jerry leaned over him suddenly.

"It's just me, Greg," Jerry said; "just Jerry-o. Here's Simpson, old
lamb."

I'd never heard Jerry's voice at all like that before. I don't know
whether Greg really thought it was Simpson, but he took it and
sighed--a long, quivery sort of sigh, the way very little children
do when they're asleep sometimes.

Then there was no sound at all but the different horrid noises that
the Monster made.

Presently I felt Jerry start, and then he shuffled back a little so
that he was quite tight against my knees. I asked him what was the
matter, and he said "Nothing." After a while, though, he said:

"Chris, I'd better tell you."

"What? Oh, what _is_ it?" I said.

"Do you remember how the tide was when we came out?" he asked.

"Yes," I said; "on the ebb. Don't you remember the rocks at
Wecanicut, with bushels of wet sea-weed hanging off?"