Ten-Armed Game 



its bills, my palm over its eyes, and held it with all 

 my strength. The animal held me tightly with one 

 tentacle over my thumb, another through my fingers, 

 and bracing itself by throwing out three anchors 

 below, which caught the bottom and two sides of the 

 tank, and three behind. 



I now endeavored to complete my pseu do- victory 

 by lifting the octopus, but I could not tear this small 

 animal from the sides. The devil-fish held on, pump- 

 ing a stream of ink at me in its rage. By using my 

 other hand I finally succeeded in prying it off ; then I 

 pretended to be caught and tried to release it. But 

 the warlike chameleon of the sea would have none of 

 it. It threw its tentacles about my hand, pulled it 

 slowly down into the corner, covered it as well as it 

 could, but did not bite me. If my hand had been a 

 crab, fish, or other octopus, it would have been at- 

 tacked and bitten, but for some reason it did not 

 attempt it ; in a word, the animal was perfectly harm- 

 less, which I knew; there was only a slight scratch 

 on my hand to tell the story, and this was received 

 when I wrenched it away. 



This was a laughable conclusion to the threatening 

 and warlike movements of the octopus. The animal, 

 in point of fact, was a " bluffer," and well calculated 

 to demoralize one not acquainted with its limitations. 

 I know of no animal that has the power, by mere 

 attitudinizing and the assumption of menacing ges- 

 tures, to inspire the same degree of horror in the spec- 



63 



