“I didn’t want to catch it,” said Laddie.  “I was fishing for good fish and I got a bite and pulled that up!” and he pointed to the ugly brown fish that lay gasping on the boards.

“Is it a Sallie Growler?” asked Russ.

“It is,” said the new boy.  “And they can bite like anything.  Look how that one held on to my dog’s nose.”

“I hope he isn’t hurt much,” put in Laddie.  “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“No, I guess you didn’t,” said the other boy.  “Nobody ever tries to catch a Sallie Growler.  They’re too nasty and hard to get off the hook.  ’Most always they swallow it, but this one didn’t.  He dropped off just as you landed him and then my dog came along and smelled him—­Teddy’s always smelling something—­and the fish bit him.”

“Do you live around here?” asked Russ.

“Yes, we’re here for the summer.  I guess I saw you down on the beach last night roasting marshmallows, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and we gave your dog some,” returned Laddie.  “What’s your name?”

“George Carr.  What’s yours?”

“Laddie Bunker.”

“Mine’s Russ,” said Laddie’s brother.  “Oh, look!  I guess I’ve got a crab!”

He ran to where he had tied the end of his string to a post of the pier, and began to pull in.  Surely enough, on the end was a big blue-clawed crab, and, with the help of Laddie, who used the net, the creature was soon landed on the pier.

“Here!  You keep away from that crab!” called George Carr to his dog Teddy.  “Do you want your nose bit again?”

And from the way the crab raised its claws in the air, snapping them shut, it would seem that the shellfish would have been very glad indeed to pinch the dog’s nose.  But Teddy had learned a lesson.  He kept well away from the gasping Sallie Growler, too.

“What makes ’em be called Sallie Growler?” asked Laddie, as he and Russ looked at the fish.  It was very ugly, with a head shaped like a toad, and a very big mouth.

“I don’t know why they call ’em Sallie,” said George; “but they call ’em Growler ’cause they do growl.  Sometimes you can hear ’em grunting under the water.  There goes this one now!”

Just as he spoke the fish did give a sort of groan or growl.  It opened its mouth, gasping for breath.

“They’re no good—­worse than a toad fish!” exclaimed George, as he kicked the one Laddie had caught into the water.

“Are there many around here?” asked Russ.

“Yes, quite a lot in the inlet,” answered George.  “They don’t bite on crab-meat bait, but if you’re fishing for fish they often swallow your hook, bait and all.  I don’t like ’em, and I guess Teddy won’t either after to-day.”

“Was he ever bit before?” Laddie wanted to know as the dog lay down on the pier and began to lick his bitten nose with his tongue.

“Not that I know of,” answered George, who was a little older than Russ.  “Once is enough.  I wouldn’t want one to bite me.”