68 Watching the Brant Grow Big. 



steaming morsel lies upon a gaping shell, 

 all ready for a little lump of butter and a 

 plunge for the good of those chosen ones 

 who know how to catch razor clams. 



We pull the boat up out of the main 

 channel and spear a few eels. Over miles 

 of this bottom one can strike a spear 

 blindly into the mud with fair probability 

 of hitting an eel that has stored himself 

 up for the winter a few inches below the 

 surface, and in choice spots two eels some- 

 times come up at once on the tines of the 

 spear. It is taking unfair advantage to 

 spear the half-torpid things, but they are 

 delectable and that makes a difference. 

 Then again we can get revenge on behalf 

 of the crabs, for nothing is more relentless 

 than an eel that has set out to remove 

 one by one the legs of a confused and 

 most uncomfortable soft crab. We can 

 spare the denizens of the bottom many 

 such sights by incarcerating a bucketful 

 of the offenders. When there are eels 

 enough in the pail we push the boat over 

 quahog ground, and no matter how hard 

 it blows or how fiercely the sleet drives, a 



