y diving suit, Andy dodged
the arms. Watching his chance he thrust at one, and the sharp knife
severed the end. But another arm shot out, while the wounded one was
drawn in, and the battle was as much against the old hunter as before.

Once more he thrust his lance, and this time he severed one of the arms
close to the ugly body. The creature, in its rage and pain, redoubled
its efforts to clasp Andy.

The hunter decided to try to get to closer quarters where he could use
his spear on the body of the beast. He stooped down and wiggled along on
the bottom of the cave. But the creature saw him, and darted an arm out
to pull the old man in. Andy squirmed to one side, and then, being as
close as he desired, he rose to his feet and, drawing back the pole
thrust it with all his force straight at the centre of the
whitish-yellow body that was like a horrible lump of soft fat directly
in front of him.

At the first touch of the knife the creature squirted out an inky
substance that made the water about it as black as night. Andy could not
see, but he could feel that the lance was still in the body. He pulled
it back a little and thrust again and again, turning it around to
enlarge the wound he had made.

Then, what he had feared all along happened. Two of the creatures arms
found him, and he felt the terrible pressure as they wound themselves
about him, the sucker-plates clinging fast. Yet in it all he did not
lose his presence of mind, nor did he let go of the pole.

Tighter and tighter the arms clasped him. He struggled with all his
strength but he was in a grip more powerful than that of a boa
constrictor. Suddenly the pole he was holding snapped off. He let go the
useless end and pulled the shorter part, to which the knife was bound,
toward him. Andy felt his senses beginning to leave him, but he
determined to make one more effort.

One hand was free, that holding the knife. With his last remaining
strength he cut and slashed at the arms of the creature that were
clasped about him.

Again and again he stuck the blade into the gristle like substance.
Could he win? Could he save his own life, to say nothing of that of the
two boys?

The creature was lashing about now so that the water was a mass of black
foam. The ink-color was beginning to fade away. Andy could dimly observe
the horrible front of the octupus, and see the wound his lance had made.
Then all seemed to grow dark again. He dimly remembered trying to
th