and the wretched victim is drawn up to the ogre's beak, with no chance
of escape.

When one sees the grasping power of even a small Octopus, it is easy to
believe that a large one would be a dangerous enemy. The strongest
swimmer would stand no chance: those clinging arms could hold two or
three men under water.

[Illustration: WHALING.]

Luckily, the Octopus has no wish to attack people. It is not fierce. But
to the Crabs it must seem an awful ogre. I once watched an Octopus on
the lookout for food. It had its lair between two rocks, its twining
arms showing outside, its eyes and body in the shadow. Along came a
Crab, scuttling near the rocks. He spied the ogre, at once stopping and
raising his claws as Crabs do, like a boxer ready to fight. The Crab
having strong pincers, and a good suit of armour, I expected to see him
fight for life. But no! Like poor Bunny chased by the dreaded Stoat, the
Crab gave in as soon as the ogre flicked him with an arm. The suckers
gripped him fast and, still holding up his claws, he was drawn into the
den of his dreadful enemy.

Although armed with a beak, the Octopus seems not to use it against the
Crab. He prefers to pull the poor Crab to pieces with his strong arms,
and then to pick up the crab-meat with the hooked beak. When full-fed,
he retires to his den; he sometimes pulls shells and stones over the
entrance, and rests within until hungry.

In this strange order of molluscs there are dwarfs and giants. One kind
is never more than two inches long, others are vast monsters. The