night," he said to himself. "I'll have to try a restaurant," and hurried into the first place which came into sight.
"Have you any crabs?" he asked of the waiter who came to him.
"Yes, sah; very fine, sah. Want some soft-shell, sah?"
"I don't care whether they are soft-shell or as hard as rocks. I want live crabs, the most active kind you have in stock."
The waiter stared in amazement, then called the owner of the restaurant.
"You want live crabs?"
"I do—strong, active, go-ahead crabs, and I want them in a box."
"Is this a joke?"
"It will be—when the crabs get to work," answered Tom with a wink.
"Oh, I understand," laughed the restaurant keeper. "How many?"
"What are they worth?"
"Good nippers are worth ten cents apiece."
"Give me six, and mind you put them in a strong box for me."
Five minutes later Tom left the restaurant with the live crabs tucked safely away in a shoe box under his overcoat.
