NONSUCH 



him into mid-ocean with two miles of water beneath 

 and ravenous fish in the middle distance, he strikes 

 out, and more skillfully than any man-driven, 

 eight-oared barge. Planes rows swiftly up and back 

 to sanctuary, feathering his oars (mea culpa) as he 

 goes. 



Some of the Wanderer Crabs we collect are 

 small, others have attained the full adult stature of 

 three-fourths of an inch ; structurally all are as alike 

 as one and fifty shadows. In color and pattern, how- 

 ever, they allow no chance of accumulated memory 

 in their enemies. A fish may nose out one Planes, 

 but none of the half dozen left in the same patch of 

 weed bears any close resemblance to its dead 

 brother, so each much be detected or passed by on 

 the merits or demerits of its own particular weed 

 resemblance. Planes can have a background suiting 

 of pale yellow green or orange or dark brown or 

 olive green, and his squarish little back can be 

 slightly mottled, or etched with an infinity of brown 

 and yellow patterns. There may be transverse lines 

 over the eyes, with dim rectangles or squares or 

 triangles on mid-back; some have ikon-like trac- 

 eries, or tapestry palimpsests — scores of patterns, 

 any one of which would suffice for a crab with a less 

 kaleidoscopic habitat. Just when we smugly feel 

 that we appreciate to the full this variety of tint and 

 hue, and concede a rather condescending approval 

 of its function, we come across a little Planes with 

 an oblong of glistening frost — a milky white blob 

 of enamel laid across his shoulders. 



192 



