"We gets them all along the reef as far as Key Biscayne," said the
old sponger; "but the best comes from Rock Island, up the coast
nigh to St. Mark's."

"Why, that's where we're going!" interrupted Ruth.

"Be you, sissy? Wal, you'll see a plenty raked up there, I reckon.
Did you ever hear tell of a water-glass?"

"No," said Ruth, "I never did."

"Wal," said the old man, "here's one; maybe you'd like to look
through it." And he showed them what looked like a wooden bucket
with a glass bottom. "Jest take an' hold it a leetle ways down
into the water and see what you can see."

Taking the bucket which was held out to her, Ruth did as the old
man directed, and uttered an exclamation of delight. "Why, I can
see the bottom just as plain as looking through a window."

"To be sure," said the old sponger; "an' that's the way we sees
the sponges lying on the bottom. An' when we sees 'em we takes
those long-handled rakes there an' hauls 'em up to the top. When
they fust comes up they's plumb black, and about the nastiest
things you ever did see, I reckon. We throws 'em into crawls built
in shallow water, an' lets 'em rot till all the animal matter is
dead, an' we stirs 'em up an beats 'em with sticks to get it out.
Then they has to be washed an' dried an' trimmed, an' handled
consider'ble, afore they's ready for market. Then they's sold at