The day was bright and the sunshine glistened upon the smooth water of Cumberland Sound. The sand beach glared in the fierce rays and the heat was stifling. What little breeze there was merely ruffled the surface of the water, streaking it out into fantastic shapes upon the oily swell which heaved slowly in from the sea. Far away the lighthouse stood out white and glinting, the trees about the tall tower looking inviting with their shade. The swell snored low and sullenly upon the bar, where it broke into a line of whiteness, and the buoys rode the tide silently, making hardly a ripple as it rushed past.

Riley, the keeper of the light, was fishing. His canoe was anchored close to the shore in three fathoms of water, and he was pulling up whiting in spite of the ebb, which now went so fast that it was with difficulty he kept his line upon the bottom. When he landed his fiftieth fish they suddenly stopped biting. He changed his bait, but to no purpose. Then he pulled up his line and spat upon his hook for luck.

Even this remedy for wooing the goddess of fortune failed him, and he mopped his face and wondered. Then he looked over the side.

For some minutes he could see nothing but the glint of the current hurrying past. The sunshine dazzled him. Then he shaded his eyes and tried to pierce the depths beneath the boat.

The water was as crystal, and gradually the outlines of the soft bottom began to take form. He could follow the anchor rope clear down until a cross showed where the hook took the ground.

Suddenly he gave a start. In spite of the heat he had a chill run up his spine. Then he gazed fixedly down, straight down beneath the small boat’s bottom. A huge pair of eyes were looking up at him with a fixed stare. At first they seemed to be in the mud of the bottom, two unwinking glassy eyes about a foot apart, with slightly raised sockets. They were almost perfectly round, and although he knew they must belong to a creature lying either to or against the current, he could not tell which side the body must lie. Gradually a movement forward of the orbs attracted his attention, and he made out an irregular outline surrounding a section of undulating mud. This showed the expanse of the creature’s body, lying flat as it was, and covering an area of several yards. It showed the proportions of the sea-devil, the huge ray whose shark-like propensities made it the most dreaded of the inhabitants of the Sound. There he lay looking serenely up at the bottom of the boat with his glassy eyes fixed in that grisly stare, and it was little wonder he was called the devil-fish.

Riley spat overboard in disgust, and drew in his line. There was no use trying to fish with that horrible thing lying beneath. He got out the oars and then took hold of the anchor line and began to haul it in, determined to seek a fishing drop elsewhere or go home. As he hauled the line, the great creature below noticed the boat move ahead. He watched it for some seconds, and then slid along the bottom, where the hook was buried in the mud.

It was easy to move his huge bulk. The side flukes had but to be ruffled a little, and the great form would move along like a shadow. He could see the man in the boat when he bent over the side, and he wondered several times whether he should take the risk of a jump aboard. He was a scavenger, and not hard to please in the matter of diet. Anything that was alive was game to his maw. He had watched for more than an hour before the light-keeper had noticed it, and now the boat was drawing away. His brain was very small, and he could not overcome a peculiar feeling that danger was always near the little creature above. He kept his eyes fixed on the boat’s bottom, and slid along under her until his head brought up against the anchor line, now taut as Riley hove it short to break out the hook. This was provoking, and he opened a wicked mouth armed with rows of shark-like teeth. Then the anchor broke clear and was started upward, and the boat began to drift away in the current.

The spirit of badness took possession of him. He was annoyed. The boat would soon go away if the anchor was withdrawn, so he made a grab for it and seized the hook, or fluke, in his mouth, and started out to sea. Riley felt the sudden tug from below. He almost guessed what it was, and quick as lightning took a turn with the line about the forward seat. Then, as the boat’s headway increased rapidly, he took the bight of the line aft and seated himself so as to keep her head up and not bury in the rush. His knife was at hand ready for a sudden slash at the line in case of emergency.

“If he’ll let go abreast o’ the p’int, all right,” said Riley. “I seen lots harder ways o’ getting about than this.”

The tide was rushing out with great rapidity, and going along with it the boat fairly flew. Riley watched the shore slip past, and looked anxiously toward the lighthouse for the head keeper to see him. It would give the old man a turn, he thought, to see a boat flying through the water with the occupant sitting calmly aft taking it easy. It made him laugh outright to imagine the head keeper’s look of astonishment. Then he saw the figure of the old man standing upon the platform of the tower gazing out to sea. He roared out at the top of his voice, hoping to attract attention, but the distance was too great.

Meanwhile the sea-devil was sliding along the bottom, heading for the line of white where the surf fell over the bank of the outer bar. The hook, or fluke, of the anchor was held securely in his powerful jaws, and the force necessary to tow the following craft was felt very little. The great side fins, or flukes, merely moved with a motion which caused no exertion to such a frame, and the long tail, armed with its deadly spear of poisoned barbs, slewed slightly from right to left, steering the creature with accuracy. And while he went his mind was working, trying to think how he could get the man from the boat after he had taken him out to sea beyond any help from the shore. A sea-devil he was, and rightly named. This he very well knew, and the thought made him fearless. He had rushed many schools of mullet and other small fish, who fled in frantic terror at his approach. He had slid into a school of large porpoises, the fishermen who seldom gave way for anything, and he sent them plunging in fear for the deep water. Once he had, in sheer devilry, leaped upon a huge logger-head turtle weighing half a ton, just to see if he could take a nip of his neck before the frightened fellow could draw in his head behind the safe shelter of his shell. He could stand to the heaviest shark that had ever entered the Sound, and had once driven his spear through the jaws of a monster who had sneaked up behind him unawares and tried to get a grip upon his flukes. All had shown a wholesale respect for his powers, and he had grown more and more malignant as he grew in size and strength. Even his own family had at last sought other waters on account of his peculiarly ferocious temper.

Now he would try the new game in the craft above, and he felt little doubt as to the outcome. A sudden dash and twist might demoralize the floating tow, and as he neared the black can buoy which marked the channel, he gave a tremendous rush ahead, then a sudden sheer to the right, and with a quick slew he was heading back again in the opposite direction.

Riley felt the sudden jerk ahead. He was as far as he wished to go down the shore, but had hesitated to cut the line in the hope that the devil would let go. Lines were not plentiful, and to lose this one meant an end to fishing for several days. The canoe shot ahead with prodigious speed. Riley seized the knife and was about to cut loose, when there was a sudden sheer to starboard, and before he could do anything the canoe was jerked quickly over upon its side. He leaped to the rail and tried to right it, but almost instantly it was whirled about and capsized. The sea-devil now dropped the anchor and turned his attention to the boat. The fluke, taking the ground in the channel, anchored the craft a few feet distant from the can buoy, and Riley was climbing upon the upturned boat’s bottom as the creature came up. Lying flat upon the keel, Riley balanced himself so as to keep clear of the sea, watching the big black can swinging to and fro in the current. If he could but seize the ring in the top he might pull himself to a place of safety.

The devil came back slowly, looking about for the occupant of the small boat. He was not in sight, and the craft was perfectly empty. This puzzled him, and he began circling around to see if he had overlooked him in the tideway. Then he saw a movement upon the boat, and made out the keeper lying upon the keel. He came slowly up to the side of the craft, and Riley saw a huge shadow rising alongside of him, spreading out a full two fathoms across the wings, or flukes. The ugly eyes were fixed upon him, and he yelled in terror. It was like some horrid nightmare, only he knew the deadly nature of the creature, and realized what a fate was in store for him once the devil had him fast.

The devil was in no hurry to rush matters, however, for now that the boat was again stationary he would investigate the subject before making an attack. He was not hungry.

Riley edged away from the huge shadow as far as he could, and called frantically for help. The can buoy swung close to him, and he looked up to see if it were possible to make the spring for the top. To miss it meant certain death. Then it swung away again, and he closed his eyes to shut out the horrid shape rising beside the boat.

The mouth of the devil was under a breadth of shovel-shaped nose, and it could not be brought to bear at once. It would necessitate a leap to grab Riley, and as the devil was in no hurry he swam slowly along the sunken gunwale waiting for a better opportunity to seize the victim. He was apparently certain of his game, and he would take his time.

Riley shrieked again and again in terror, clinging with a frantic clutch to the capsized boat.

About this time, Samuels, the keeper, who was in the tower, happened to turn around far enough to notice the black speck of the upturned boat. He was expecting Riley to show up about this time of day, and the speck upon the surface of the Sound attracted his attention. In a few moments he made it out to be the boat bottom up.

Instantly he sprang for his glasses. He saw Riley lying upon the bottom. He rushed to the beach as fast as he could and pushed out in a dory. His companion was in danger from drowning, and he would rescue him if possible. He knew nothing of the danger that lurked below the surface of the sea. The sea-devil was out of sight, and his small dorsal fin would not show any great distance.

Riley howled and clung to the bottom of the boat, while Samuels strove to reach him, and all the time the devil swam slowly fore and aft along the side trying to decide whether to make the leap or push the boat bodily over again. The last method appeared to be the least irksome, and he gave the boat a good shove with his nose.

Riley felt the heeling of the craft, and clutched frantically at the now slanting keel. She was turning over again, and in an instant he would be in the water. The thought of the ending gave him a madman’s energy. He saw the buoy swinging closer and closer to him as the craft was pushed along sideways. Then a sudden eddy of the tide swung it within a few feet of the boat.

The devil, seeing the boat turning slowly over, pushed harder. In an instant the man upon the bottom would be in the water and easy to seize. He gave a sudden shove, throwing the capsized craft almost upon its side. As he did so Riley made a last desperate effort. He arose quick as lightning and balanced for an instant on the settling canoe. Then he sprang with all his strength for the ring-bolt in the top of the buoy.

Whether it was luck or the desperate strength of despair, he just managed to get the fingers of his right hand into the ring. The can toppled over as though it would capsize and land him in the sea, but with his legs in the water almost up to his waist, it brought up on its bearings, balanced by the heavy weight below. Then he hauled himself up and tried to get his legs around the iron.

At each effort the can would twist slowly in the sea, and down he would come again into the water, holding on by the ring above his head.

The sea-devil gave the craft a tremendous push which sent it clear over, and then he slipped under it to find the game on the side beyond. The man was gone, but he saw him hanging to the buoy close by, and he gave a sudden dash to seize him. At that instant Riley clambered like a cat upon the swinging iron, and by almost superhuman balancing he sat up on the top, some four feet clear of the water, his legs swinging on either side, making frantic efforts to keep his unstable craft from turning around in the current and spilling him into the death-trap which now lurked below in plain view. He prayed for a whale iron, and screamed for help. Then he swore furiously and madly at the shape with the stony eyes which, as implacable as death itself, lay watching him as though certain of the ultimate outcome of the affair. Without even his knife he would not be able to make the least resistance. A harpoon iron would have fixed things differently. Oh, for one to throw at the hideous thing waiting for him! How he would like to see the barbs sink into that hard hide and pierce its vitals. He raved at it, and cursed it frantically, but the sea-devil lay there silently watching, knowing well that it was but a question of a few minutes before he would be at his mercy.

The hot afternoon sun beat pitilessly upon the clinging wretch upon the can buoy, and the heat upon his bare head made the water dance about him. But to lose his balance was fatal, and he clung and cried, prayed and screamed, cursed and raved, alternately, adjusting his trembling body to each movement of his float.

As the minutes flew by, Samuels, who was rowing to him with rapid strokes, heard his outcries, and turned to look. He could not understand the man’s wild terror. It was evident that there was no time to lose, and he bent to the oars again. Suddenly he heard a piercing scream. He turned, and in time to see a great shape rise from the water like a gigantic bat, and sail right for the top of the can buoy. It struck it fair, and the thud of the huge body resounded over the sea. Then it fell slanting off into the water with a great splash, and when he looked at the top of the can there was nothing but a piece of blue cloth hanging to the ring-bolt. Riley was gone.

In an instant Samuels sprang to his feet and stood looking at the eddying current, paralyzed with horror at the sight. The hot sunshine and smooth sea were still all around him, but the monstrous shape had disappeared and his companion along with it. Now he knew why Riley had screamed and cursed so frantically. It was not the fear of drowning that had called forth such madness. But even while he stood there in the sunlight a horrible nightmare seemed to be taking possession of him, and he was trembling and helpless. He gave a hoarse cry and set his teeth to control his shaking nerves. Then his brain began its normal working again, and he seized his oars and gave several tremendous strokes in the direction of the buoy, looking over his shoulder and feeling his scalp tightening upon his head. There was a cold chill in his blood, as though the weather were winter instead of torrid July.

Suddenly something showed on the surface just under the boat’s bow. He shivered in spite of himself, but the thought of his comrade nerved him for the ordeal. He sprang forward, knife in hand, to seize it if it were Riley’s form, or face the monster if he appeared. A white hand came slowly upward. With a desperate effort Samuels reached over and jerked the form of his assistant into the boat, and as he did so a huge shadow darkened the water beneath him.

The sea-devil, carried along by the momentum of his rush, had knocked his victim into the water from the buoy top, but had swept past him before he could swing about far enough to seize him in his jaws. This was all that saved Riley.

Instantly Samuels, who had a stout craft, seized his oars and pulled for the lighthouse, gazing fixedly upon the smooth water astern of him, and shivering with a nervous shake at each ripple in the wake of his boat, lest it were made by the denizen below the surface. But nothing followed. The Sound was as smooth as glass, and the sunshine and silence were undisturbed. The great ray had missed his victim, and was swimming slowly around the can buoy looking for him. He had failed to notice Samuels pick him up, although he had seen his boat pass.

While Samuels watched astern he saw the capsized craft near the buoy move suddenly, as though some power were exerted upon it from below. The sight caused him to bend with renewed vigor to his oars, and, with his heart sending his blood jerking through his temples with a pulse he seemed almost to hear, he drove his boat for the beach and landed safely. As he did so Riley sat up and looked about him with eyes that were like those of a man in a dream. His lips were swollen to a livid blue and he puffed through them, making a ghastly sound as they quivered with his breath. Samuels spoke to him, but he would only gaze about him and make the blowing noise with his mouth. Then the elder keeper took him gently by the arm and led him painfully up the sand to the lighthouse dwelling. The next day the victim was raving. It would take a long time for the poor fellow to regain his equilibrium, and absolute rest and quiet were the only thing that would steady the terribly shaken nerves. Samuels took the man to the nearest town, and then went back to tend the light alone.

The following week Samuels spent brooding over the horrible affair. The log of the keeper refers to it several times, and it was like a wild nightmare to him during his watch on the tower during darkness. During the daytime he thought of it continually, and began to devise different methods for the capture of the sea-devil, which he believed to be still in the entrance of the Sound. He had sent word of the unfortunate Riley’s condition to the inspector, and was tending the light alone when the new assistant came to relieve him. When he arrived he found Samuels hard at work upon a set of harpoons and lines which he had been preparing for his hunt, while a couple of large shark-hooks lay in the small boat ready baited. Two small boats were made ready, and the shark-hooks and lines were placed in one. The other contained five lilly-irons of the grummet-and-toggle pattern and two hundred fathoms of small line capable of holding the small boat while being towed at any speed. With this outfit they began to spend the days upon the waters of the Sound, rowing in company to the various fishing drops, and trying for a bite upon the great hooks.

Not a sign of the sea-devil had there been since the day the keeper had met him. The weather was clear and fine, and the sea smooth. Nothing rose to break the even surface. But Samuels hunted quietly on, never losing faith that some day the monster would break water again and give him a chance for either a harpoon or hook. In his boat he carried a long whale lance with its heart-shaped head as sharp as a razor, covered in a wooden scabbard to keep off the dampness. It would penetrate any living body a full fathom, and nothing of flesh and blood could withstand its stroke.

The sixth day out the new keeper began to give up hope of seeing anything like the game they sought. He carried ordinary hand lines, and busied himself fishing during their stays at the different drops. Sea bass, drum, and sheeps-head were biting lively, and he managed to make good use of the time they were away from the light. Toward the late afternoon the fish suddenly stopped biting. It was the beginning of the flood tide, and therefore not in keeping with the usual state of affairs. Something was the matter, and Samuels began to pay attention to his shark lines.

In a short time one of them began to go in little jerks. It was loose, with a turn around a cleat so that it might run with any sudden pull. Then it began to go steadily, going faster and faster, as fathom after fathom of it flaked overboard. As a shark is never jerked for some moments after he has taken bait, on account of his habit of holding a morsel in his mouth sometimes for minutes before swallowing it, the line was let run. After a shark gets it well in hand he suddenly bolts the food and makes off. Then is the time to set back with a full force upon the line in order to drive the barb of the hook into his tough throat. The chain leader of the hook will then be the only thing he can set his teeth upon, and he will be fast if the barb once gets under the tough hide.

Samuels let the line go for nearly a minute before a quickening in the movement told him that the fellow at the other end had swallowed the bait and was making away. Then rising slowly to his feet he let the line run through his fingers until he took a good brace upon the seat of his boat with his foot. Then he grasped the line suddenly with both hands, and setting back upon it with all his strength he stopped it for an instant. The next moment there was a whir of whistling line. He had dropped it and it was flying overboard. Before ten fathoms of line had gone, Samuels had it on the cleat again and was snubbing it in jerks which sent his boat as deep as her after gunwale. Soon, however, the line began to give a little. Foot by foot he hauled it in, until a long dark form showed beneath the surface of the water. It was only a shark after all, and he was given a taste of the whale lance to quiet him.

While he was engaged in this he heard a sudden roar behind him, and he turned in time to see a gigantic form disappear in a tremendous smother of foam. It sounded like a small cannon, and he well knew there was only one creature in the Sound that could break water with such a rush and smash.

The shark was forgotten, and as soon as possible the hook was rebaited and cast. The other line was now watched, and the painter of the other boat was passed over to make them tow together if the line should be taken.

Suddenly the new keeper, who had been looking steadily over the side into the clear water, gave a shout and pointed below.

Just a fathom beneath the boat’s keel a gigantic shadow drew slowly up. It was a giant ray, the dreaded sea-devil they had been waiting for.

Samuels gazed down at it and could see the stony eyes fixed upon him. Grasping a harpoon he sent it with all his force down into the depths. It was a wild throw. But he had waited so long that he could not miss any chance.

The long shank of the iron disappeared in the foam of the splash. Then there was a moment’s pause. Almost instantly afterwards the line was flying furiously over the side. The toggle had penetrated, and they were fast.

The assistant keeper tossed over the anchor buoys to mark the slipped moorings, and then Samuels snubbed the line.

Instantly the boats were jerked half under water. Settling back as far as they could, they both tried to keep the bows of the towing craft from being towed under, and the line had to be slacked again and again to save them. Away they went, one behind the other, the ray leading, Samuels’ boat next, with him in the stern-sheets, holding a turn of the line which led over the runner in the stem, and the new keeper, standing with steering oar in hand, slewing his flying craft first one side and then the other to keep dead in the wake.

The breeze making from the sea sent the spray over the boats in sheets, but they held on. The devil was heading for the bar under full speed, for the iron had pricked him sorely in the side, and he was a little taken aback at this sudden reception. He could not yet grasp the situation, and would circle about before coming close to the small craft again. But there was something dragging upon him that began to cause alarm. There was a line to the thing that pricked so sore. The feeling at first caused a desire to escape from the unknown enemy, but gradually as the pain increased anger began to take the place of fright, and he tried to find out just who his enemies were. He swerved near the can buoy and broached clear of the sea to get a better view. The crash he made as he struck the sea again sent the spray high in the air, and the line was whirled out with renewed force.

But the men behind him had no thought of letting go. With lance in hand Samuels waited patiently for a chance to haul line. As long as the toggle would hold there was little chance for the iron drawing, for the skin of the ray was as tough as leather, and the flesh beneath it was firm.

On and on they went, the flood tide setting strong against them. The swell from beyond the bar was now felt, and the ocean sparkled in the sunshine where it was ruffled by the outside breeze. Two, three miles were traversed, but there was no slacking of the tremendous pace. The ray evidently intended to get to sea before attempting to make any change in his actions. He was going at a ten-knot gait, keeping now close to the bottom, and heading right through the north breaker, which rolled in curved lines of white foam upon the bar. The channel he cared not the least for, and Samuels watched the roaring line of white with concern. The small boats would make bad weather of the surf, even though the sea was smooth, for the swell rose high and fell heavily, making a deep rumbling snore which grew louder and louder as they approached. Far away the lighthouse shone in the sunshine, and the buoys stood out like black specks to mark the way through the channel.

Samuels got out his hatchet ready for a sudden cut at the line if the surf proved too dangerous. They were nearing the inner line of breakers, and it would be only a matter of minutes before they were either through or swamped. There must be some hasty judgment, but it must be as accurate as it would be hasty, for there would be no chance to change his mind when the water rose ahead. It was breaking in a good fathom and more.

The sea-devil seemed to know what was in store for the boats towing behind. He broached again and took a good look astern where they flew along behind him. Then with redoubled speed he tore through the inner line of breaking water, and before Samuels could grab the hatchet to cut loose, his boat rose upon a crested breaker and plunged headlong over into the trough beyond, pulling the assistant through, and almost swamping him. It was now too late to let go. Ahead was another wall of rising water which would break in an instant, and the only thing to do was to go on and trust to the boat’s riding over it all right. To turn the slightest, one side or the other, meant to be rolled over in the rush of foam.

Samuels held on grimly. Once outside he hoped to haul line and come to close quarters with the devil. Then he would deal with him in a more satisfactory manner. That long lance would be brought into play, and the fight would be with the odds upon his side. But he had reckoned somewhat hastily with this outcast of the ocean. All the fearless cunning of the sea-scavenger was being brought into play. The pain in his side where the iron held was making him more and more savage. He saw it was useless to run away, for the iron held his pursuers to him. He had only intended to make a short run at the beginning, and then turn to meet whatever there was in the shape of a foe. There was little fear in his make-up. The sudden alarm at the stroke of the iron was merely the natural instinct of the wild creature to keep out of harm’s way. He had intended to come back and try his hand with the small craft, only he would not run into unknown trouble. It would be wiser to take things easy and approach the matter slowly, watching a good chance to make a rush in when a fitting opportunity occurred. But because he would go slow he would be none the less implacable. He had never withdrawn from a fight yet, and his peculiar tenacity had more than once brought him off victor when the odds were against him. He was wary—an old wary fighter who began the struggle slowly only to learn the forces opposed to him. When the issue was well begun he would break forth in a fury unequaled in any other denizen of the ocean. The continual pain of the pulling-iron was now goading him into a condition of frenzied fury. In a moment he would turn, just as soon as he had the small craft well into the foaming water, where he knew it would be difficult to navigate.

Samuels had thought of the ray’s probable run for shoal water, and dreaded coming up with him in the surf. He could not turn his small boat broadside to the breakers without getting rolled over and swamped, and his oars would be useless to pull clear with the iron fast. He hoped the ray would make for the bottom in the deep water beyond and pull him through. Just as the outer breaker rose ahead the line suddenly slacked. This was what Samuels dreaded most, and he began to haul in hand over hand. Instead, however, of the line leading ahead, it suddenly let off to starboard, and he was forced to let it go and take to his oars to keep the boat’s head to the sea that was now upon her. He called to the new keeper, who let go the line between the boats, to take out his oars also. Both now headed straight for the crest, which instantly broke over them, half filling Samuels’ craft and settling her almost to the gunwales. At that moment the line came taut with a jerk. It swung the boat’s head off broadside to the sea, and the next minute the breaker rolled her over and over. As it did so a giant form rose like a huge bat from the foam with mouth agape and flukes extended, its tail stretching out behind, and the line from the harpoon trailing. Down it came with a crash which resounded above the roar of the surf, and the boat disappeared from view.

Samuels had by good luck been thrown clear of the craft when the sea struck, and his head appeared a fathom distant just as the devil crashed down. It was a close call. Then, as the half-sinking boat returned slowly, bottom up, to the surface, he made for it with all speed.

Beside it floated the long wooden handle of the lance, the blade resting upon the bottom a fathom below. He seized it as he grasped the keel, and calling for the keeper in the other boat to look out, he made ready for the devil’s return, for the line was not pulling the boat away, showing that the slack had not been taken up, and that the creature was still close by.

He was not wrong in this. The huge devil swerved almost as soon as he disappeared below the surface and headed back again slowly to where the boat lay in the foam of the breaker. He kept close to the bottom and came like a shadow over the sand.

The sun was shining brightly and objects could be seen easily. Samuels soon made out a dark object creeping up from the side where the ray had gone down. The water was hardly over his head when the seas broke, and between them it was not more than four and a half feet deep. He could keep his head out and his feet upon the sand until the rising crest would lift him clear, when, by holding to the upturned boat’s keel, he could keep his head out until the breaker had passed, the tide setting him rapidly towards the deeper water inside the bar.

The keeper in the other boat saw the shadow and called out, at the same time getting a harpoon ready and resting upon his oars. The smooth between breakers gave both a good chance to note the position of the approaching monster.

The sea-devil came slowly up, his eyes showing through the clear water and the line from the iron trailing behind him. When within a couple of fathoms he made a sudden rush at the capsized boat.

The new keeper threw his iron well. It landed fairly in the top of the broad back and sank deep, but it did not in the least stop the savage rush. The huge bulk rose to the surface at the instant the iron struck and came straight for Samuels, who held the lance ready in one hand and clung to the keel of his boat with the other. He drove the long, sharp weapon a full two feet into the monster’s vitals and then ducked behind the sunken gunwale to avoid the teeth.

There was a terrific commotion in the sea. The devil bit savagely at Samuels’ arm, but missed it, his teeth coming upon the gunwale of the boat and shearing out a piece. Then he gave a tremendous rush upon the craft and drove it before him until it disappeared under the surface. The great ray smote the sea with his flukes and strove after his prey, but the lance was firmly planted in him, and, try as he might, he could get no nearer than the length of the handle to the keeper, for with this grasped firmly in both hands Samuels went below the surface only to get his foothold again and reappear to be driven along before the furious creature.

Meanwhile the new keeper came hauling line from the rear. There was a smooth between the seas, and he pulled the boat close to the floundering devil before he knew what was taking place. Then, with three irons ready, he drove one after the other in quick succession into the monster. Taken from the rear in this manner the devil whirled about. His barbed spear in his tail he drove with accuracy at the form in the boat, striking the keeper in the thick of the thigh and piercing it through and through. He fell with a yell, clutching the boat to keep from being drawn overboard, and the spear broke off short, the poisonous barbs remaining in the flesh.

The sudden diversion saved Samuels. He managed to withdraw his lance, and by an almost superhuman effort he drove it again into the devil just as a sea broke over him. When he came to the surface again he was exhausted and expected to fall a victim, but the great creature made no attack and only swam around in a circle, apparently dazed.

Samuels lost no time in getting aboard the still floating craft, taking the towline with him. She was full of water from the breaker which had rolled in, but it had struck her fairly in the bow and she would float a little longer. He reached for the oars and held her head to the sea, while the other raised himself in spite of the agony of his poisoned wound and bailed for his life.

The sea-devil was mortally hurt and was failing fast. He came to the surface and made one blind rush at the boat, but he missed and received the last iron fairly between the eyes. Then he began to go slowly away, following the flood tide, and towing both boats in through the breakers to the smooth water beyond. In a short time the motion ceased, and Samuels hauled in the lines until he was just over the body in two fathoms of water and clear of the surf on the bar. Then he turned his attention to his wounded comrade, and by great force pulled the long, barbed spine through the flesh of his thigh and sucked the wound. As the tide was flooding, they left the capsized boat fast to the devil on the bottom below, knowing it would not get far adrift, and made their way to the light, where the keeper’s wound was carefully cauterized and bound up.

The great ray lay quiet for some time, his flukes acting as suckers to hold him down. Then, the feeling that his end was at hand coming gradually upon him, he fought against the deadly weakness of his wounds. Summing up all the remaining energy within his giant frame, he rose to the surface to make one last, desperate rally and annihilate the towing craft. He breached clear of the sea and fell with a resounding crash upon the fabric, smashing it completely. Then he tore it with his teeth and flung the splinters broadcast, reaching wildly for anything which looked like a human form. Then he suddenly stopped and a quiver passed through him. He gave a mighty smash with his flukes upon the remains of the boat, and then his life went out. He sank slowly down upon the clean sand below, and the ground-sharks of the reef came silently in to their feast.