a long
time the many peering eyes would so disconcert him as almost to spoil
his appetite. But at last he grew accustomed even to the faces and the
eyes, and disregarded them as if they were so much passing seaweed,
borne by the tide. His investigating tentacles had shown him that
between him and the space of confusion there was an incomprehensible
barrier fixed, which he could see through but not pass; and that if he
could not get out, neither could the faces get in to trouble him.

Thus, well fed and undisturbed, the octopus grew fairly content in his
glass house, and never guessed the stormy life of the great city
beyond his walls. For all he knew, his comfortable prison might have
been on the shore of one of his own Bahaman Keys. He was undisputed
lord of his domain, narrow though it was; and the homage he received
from the visitors who came to pay him court was untiring.

His lordship had been long unthreatened, when one day, had he not been
too indifferent to notice them, he might have seen that the faces in
the outer gloom were unusually numerous, the eyes unusually intent.
Suddenly there was the accustomed splash in the water above him. That
splash had come to him to mean just food, unresisting victims, and his
tentacles were instantly alert to seize whatever should come within
reach.

This time the splash was unusually heavy, and he was surprised to see
a massive, roundish creature, with a little, pointed tail sticking
out behind, a small, snake-like head stretched out in front, and two
little flippers outspread on each side. With these four flippers the
stranger came swimming down calmly towards him. He had never seen
anything at all like this daring stranger; but without the slightest
hesitation he whipped up two writhing tentacles and seized him. The
faces beyond the glass surged with excitement.

When that abrupt and uncompromising clutch laid hold upon the turtle,
his tail, head, and flippers vanished as if they had never been, and
his upper and lower shells closed tight together till he seemed
nothing more than a lifeless box of horn. Absolutely unresisting, he
was drawn down to the impassive eyes and gaping beak of his captor.
The tentacles writhed all over him, stealthily but eagerly
investigating. Then the great parrot-beak laid hold on the shell,
expecting to crush it. Making no impression, however, it slid
tentatively all over the exasperating prize, seeking, but in vain, for
a weak point.

[I