and ink, Little Sword simply stabbing and stabbing at the soft mass
under his weapon. Then, all at once, the tentacles relaxed, falling
away as slack as seaweed. The barracouta, nearly spent, swam off
without even waiting to say 'Thank you.' And Little Sword coming to
his senses as he realized his victory, rose slowly out of the area of
the ink cloud. He knew that the Inkmaker's flesh was very good to eat,
and he merely waited for the cloud to settle before making a meal which
would completely satisfy his vengeance."

The Babe was thoughtful for a few moments after Uncle Andy stopped
speaking. At length he said positively:

"I'm glad we don't have any Inkmakers, either, in the lake."

"Umph!" grunted Uncle Andy, "there are lots of things we don't have
that we can very well do without."




CHAPTER V

ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP

Casting his flies across the eddying mouth of one of those cold streams
which feed the crystal bosom of Silverwater, Uncle Andy had landed a
magnificent pink-bellied trout--five pounds, if an ounce!

"Hi, but isn't he a whopper?" he cried exultantly, holding up his prize
for the inspection of the Babe, who had been watching the struggle