and enabled him to spring this way and that in spite of all the efforts
of the two long tentacles to hold him still. Nevertheless, he was
slowly drawn downwards, till one of the shorter feelers reached for a
hold upon him. He darted at it, and by a lucky plunge of his sword cut
its snaky tip clean off. It twisted back out of the way, like a
startled worm; and Little Sword lunged at the next one. He pierced it
all right, but at a point where it was so thick that the stroke did not
sever it, and the tip, curling over, fastened upon him. At the same
moment another feeler fixed itself upon the base of his tail, half
paralyzing his struggles.

"Little Sword was now being drawn implacably downwards. In his fierce
rage he struck at everything in reach, but he was too closely held to
inflict any serious wounds. He was within eight or nine inches of
those awful, unwinking, ink-black eyes. The great beak opened upwards
at him eagerly. It looked as if his career was at an end--when the
Fates of the Deep Sea decided otherwise. Apparently they had more use
for Little Sword than they had for the Inkmaker. A long shadow dropped
straight downward. It missed Little Sword by an inch or two. And the
gaping, long-toothed jaws of an immense barracouta closed upon the head
of the Inkmaker, biting him clean in halves. The blind body curled
backwards spasmodically; and the tentacles, shorn off at the roots,
fell aimlessly and helplessly apart. Little Sword flashed away,
trailing his limp captors behind him till they dropped off. And the
barracouta ate the remains of the Inkmaker at his leisure. He had no
concern to those swordfish when there was tender and delicious squid to
be had; for the Inkmaker, you know, was just a kind of big squid, or
cuttlefish."

"But what's a barracouta?" demanded the Babe hurriedly.