Ten-Armed Game 



tration of legs, trembling muscles, constant stepping 

 of the feet in a limited area, bending of the back and 

 switch of the tail, long or short. In this devil-fish 

 eight arms coiled about it like snakes, trembled and 

 vibrated as I thrust my hand down into its den. 

 Colors raced over it as I bent over and watched it 

 closely from the outside, where I could see through 

 the polished plate glass every movement, throb, and 

 change. At a distance of eight inches I could feel 

 the curious current of water shot at my hand by the 

 torpedo-like siphon; see the delicate weed in the 

 water blown aside; and as my hand approached 

 nearer and nearer the octopus crouched low, like a 

 cat, its eight arms fumbling inanely, a trembling, 

 Medusa-like object. Nearer came my hand, and like 

 a flash of lightning, so sudden that it was startling, 

 the octopus shot out one of its arms, that like a 

 snake or lariat seemed to be flung at me, the rings 

 of the end suckers striking my hand sharply, the 

 entire animal springing forward. To brace itself, 

 it threw one arm to the right, one below, one to the 

 left, fastened by many suckers to the glass, while two 

 others, as the sequel will show, seized its companion. 

 I now gradually withdrew my hand from what 

 may be considered the attack, and then advanced 

 it, and doubtless to the devil-fish the situation was 

 momentous and alarming. It crouched a moment, 

 moving forward and back, then launched itself 

 bodily at the enemy (my hand), striking it with sev- 



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