entirely . . . until I see him turn and make his 

 way back toward his late antagonist. That indi- 

 vidual is now rearing his head and claws aloft in 

 the usual frozen attitude, menacing, frightful ; but 

 his back is turned to the other and is an excellent 

 target for a tricky attack. That treachery is a part 

 of the approaching skeleton-shrimp's plan, would 

 seem from appearances quite probable as the plot 

 begins to thicken. 



This is becoming interesting. Ever nearer the 

 crawler comes. By insinuative, progressive move- 

 ments interrupted with an occasional statuesque 

 halt, he advances to a point just within reach of 

 the other and slowly starts to rear. Does the sta- 

 tionary animal see his foe? Instinctively I groan 

 to apprise him of impending danger . . . He is 

 nearly upright and apparently still unobserved. 



"Look out, little one! . . ." 



But my warning cry is wasted . . . There is no 

 assault. There is no advantage taken by treachery. 

 There is in fact no movement more hostile than a 

 slight jostling as the larger Caprella reaches its 

 full height to strike the same pose that is assumed 

 by the other — that is to say, the pose that is nor- 

 mally assumed when waiting to seize upon floating 



,[i 4 6] 



