54 



Far away from the cottages and big hotels is a 

 stretch of shore called Pebbly Beach. It is very 

 lonely there, with no sound but the rush of the 

 breakers and the cries of the sea gulls. Little sand- 

 pipers with legs no thicker than straws run up and 

 down hunting for things to eat. The white sand 

 fleas that are washed up on the beach with the waves 

 make haste to burrow down out of sight in the wet 

 sand. They are afraid the sandpipers will catch 

 them. 



Scattered about this beach are many sea shells. 

 They are all around, but the greatest number are 

 down in a shallow salt pool that lies in a hollow of 

 the sand. 



These shells do not lie still. They move about 

 as though they were alive. 



This is not magic. Anyone looking closely at 

 the shells would see peering out from almost every 

 one of them something that looks like two staring 

 eyes. He would also see two little claws and per- 

 haps four little spiny legs put out to walk. 



These belong to the hermit crabs who find these 

 shells and then curl themselves in them as though 

 they were little houses, and live there. 



There used to be one shell in this pool that was 



