"
"It's a good thing he did!" exclaimed the eccentric man. "Now
he can see what he's doing! Poor Ned! I'm afraid he's done for!"
"Look!" exclaimed one of the crew. "Norton, the sailor who went
out with Mr. Newton, is trying to kill the monster with his
spear!"
This was so. Ned's companion, armed with a lone pole to which
he had lashed a knife, was stabbing and jabbing at the black form
which almost completely hid Ned from sight. But the efforts of
the sailor seemed to produce little effect.
"What in the world can it be?" asked Mr. Damon. "Tom says it
isn't an octopus, and it can't be, unless it has lost three of
its arms. But what sort of monster is it?"
No one answered him. The powerful searchlight continued to
glow, and in the gleam Ned could be seen trying to break away
from the grip of the Atlantic beast. But his efforts were
unavailing. It was as if he was enveloped in a sort of sack, made
in segments, so that they opened and closed over his head. About
all that could be seen of him was his feet, encased in the heavy
lead-laden boots.
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