"I composed it myself!" said the Fiddler Crab. "But it's highly
classical, I admit. All really great music is an acquired taste."

"I don't like it," remarked Cap'n Bill. "It might do all right to
stir up a racket New Year's Eve, but to call that screechin'
music--"

Just then the crabs started fiddling again, harder than ever, and as
it promised to be a long performance, they left the little creatures
scraping away at their fiddles as if for dear life and swam along
the rocky canyon until, on turning a corner, they came upon a new
and different scene.

There were crabs here, too, many of them, and they were performing
the queerest antics imaginable. Some were building themselves into a
pyramid, each standing on edge, with the biggest and strongest ones
at the bottom. When the crabs were five or six rows high, they would
all tumble over, still clinging to one another and, having reached
the ground, they would separate and commence to build the pyramid
over again. Others were chasing one another around in a circle,
always moving backward or sidewise, and trying to play "leapfrog" as
they went. Still others were swinging on slight branches of seaweed
or turning cartwheels or indulging in similar antics.

Merla and the earth people watched the busy little creatures for
some time before they were themselves observed, but finally Trot
gave a laugh when one crab fell on its back and began frantically
waving its legs to get right-side-up again. At the sound of her
laughter they all stopped their play and came toward the visitors in