Part 24 (1/2)

Colin was conscious inwardly that he would have preferred to have nothing at all to do with the repulsive object, but as he had come out in pursuit of an octopus, he would not, for the world, have shown the white feather before the boatman.

”Yes, unless we find a bigger,” he said, with an overdone a.s.sumption of ease.

”I t'ink, sair,” Vincente responded, ”zat we'd better be satisfied wit'

zis one. Shall I take it or will you?”

There was just a hint of irony in the boatman's tone, and remembering the timidity he had shown when clutched by the squid, Colin felt that this was the chance to redeem himself.

”I don't mind taking it,” he said. ”You say these things are quite harmless.”

”Quite, sair, I t'ink,” the boatman replied.

”All right,” was the boy's rejoinder, and he walked forward boldly toward the octopus. The green eyes regarded him steadily, and just as the boy stooped to grasp the slimy body, it seemed to gather itself in a heap and started for the sea.

This was an unexpected move, but Colin, having stated that he wanted that octopus, did not propose to be cheated out of it. He was surprised that the cuttlefish could move so fast, and his repugnance gave way to excitement as he started running after the writhing eight-armed creature. He was just about to grab it when he tripped on a rock, covered with slippery seaweed, and fell headlong, the fall throwing him immediately upon the octopus. For a moment the boy was staggered, and he never knew whether he had grabbed the cephalopod or whether it had grasped him, all he knew was that he was lying on the ground with six of the eight arms of the octopus around him.

The boy was just in time to throw up his hands to protect his eyes, as a torrent of the inky fluid deluged him from head to foot. He struggled to get up, but the two tentacles of the cuttlefish held fast to adjacent rocks, and Colin might have found difficulty in freeing himself, owing to the awkward att.i.tude in which he had been caught, but for Vincente, who wrenched the tentacles away from their hold.

”Are you all right, sair?” the boatman asked.

”All right,” said Colin stoutly, as he got up.

Seldom had he been such a sight! He was black from head to foot with the sepia fluid, his clothes were torn where he had fallen on the rocks, and he was smothered in the nauseous embrace of the uncanny and diabolical eight-armed creature clinging to his shoulder. Once, on the way to the boat, the cuttlefish seemed ready to drop off, but, at Vincente's warning, Colin made believe to force apart the other tentacles, and the octopus renewed its hold. As soon as they reached the boat and the boy stood still a moment, the cuttlefish let go, and fell to the bottom of the boat.

Colin looked down at himself and laughed, then jumped overboard in all his clothes, thres.h.i.+ng around in the water to remove as much of the sepia as he could, clambering in when he had washed off the worst of it.

Vincente looked at him.

”I t'ink, sair,” he said, smiling, ”you ought to be photograph' wit' ze catch!”

CHAPTER VI

DEFEATED BY A SPOTTED MORAY

Colin's brilliant success at Santa Catalina, signalized by his receipt of the tuna b.u.t.ton, had so increased Major Dare's pride in him that when the boy renewed his request that he be allowed to enter the Bureau of Fisheries, his appeal received attention. The inspiration that he had gained from the whole-hearted enthusiasm of the professor was evident in all that the boy said, and his father was surprised to find how much the lad really had learned about the work of the Government during his experiences in the Behring Sea and on the Columbia River.

”It doesn't appeal to me particularly,” his father said quietly, when the boy closed a somewhat impa.s.sioned pet.i.tion, ”but we are each built upon a different pattern. To me, fish are of interest as a food and for sport. I couldn't be satisfied to take them up as a lifework. There's no money in it; of course, you can see that.”

”There isn't in any government work, is there?”

”No,” was the reply, ”big fortunes are always made in individual ways.

But when you're starting out in life, it is much more important to be able to do the work you like than it is to seek only for money. The princ.i.p.al thing I'm afraid of is that you will find it tiresome and monotonous after a while. It's very hard work with a good deal of manual labor involved, and there is nothing particularly attractive in a bushel of fish-eggs!”

”But it's only on the start that you have to do the steady grind,” Colin objected, ”and one has to do that in every line of work. I know you would very much rather I took to farming or lumbering, but I think a fish is a much more interesting thing to work with than a hill of corn or a jack-pine.”

”But don't you think you would find it tame after a while?”

Colin leaned forward eagerly.