"Crawl up under cover and rush 'em, say I," said one.
"Get aht!," said another. "What's cover against this 'ere
'eat? Sticks to cook yer! What we got to do is to go as near
as the ground'll let us, and then drive a trench."
"Blow yer trenches! You always want trenches; you ought
to ha" been born a rabbit Snippy."
"'Ain't they got any necks, then?" said a third, abruptly--
a little, contemplative, dark man, smoking a pipe.
I repeated my description.
"Octopuses," said he, "that's what I calls 'em. Talk about
fishers of men--fighters of fish it is this time!"
"It ain't no murder killing beasts like that," said the first
speaker.
"Why not shell the darned things strite off and finish 'em?"
said the little dark man. "You carn tell what they might do."
"Where's your shells?" said the first speaker. "There ain't
no time. Do it in a rush, that's my tip, and do it at once."
So they discussed it. After a while I left them, and went
on to the railway station to get as many morning papers as
I could.
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