Seemingly undisturbed by the slashings and slicings which some
of them had received, the whole ten squirming horrors now darted at the
doorway. Jan's knife swooped this way and that; but as fast as he
severed one clutch two more would make good. The cut tentacles grew to
be the more terrifying, because their suckers were so big; and they
themselves were so thick and hard to cut. Presently no fewer than three
of the diabolical things laid their loathsome hold upon his right leg,
below the knee, and began to haul it out through the door. Jan slashed
at them madly, but not altogether effectually; for at this moment
another tentacle had laid grip upon his arm below the elbow. He had just
time to shift the knife again to his left and catch the jamb of the
door, when he felt his helmet almost jerked from his head. This grip he
dared not interfere with, lest he should cut, at the same time, the
air-tube that fed his lungs, and drown like a rat in a hole. All he
could do was hold on to the door-jamb, and carve away savagely at the
tentacles which were within reach. If he could get free of those, he
calculated that he could then reach the one which had fastened to his
head-piece by throwing himself over on his back and so bringing it
within range of his vision and his knife. At this moment, however, just
as the pressure upon his neck was becoming intolerable, he felt his head
suddenly released. One of the great sucking disks had crushed in the
glass of the electric lamp and fastened upon the live wire. The
sensation it experienced was evidently not pleasant, for it let go
promptly, and secured a new hold upon Jan's left arm.

This hold left him almost helpless, because he could no longer wield the
knife freely with either hand. He felt himself slowly being pulled out
of the doorway by his right leg. Throwing himself partly backward, and
partly behind the door, he gained a firmer brace and at the same time
brought his knife again into better play. He would fight to the very
last gasp, but he felt that the odds had now gone overwhelmingly against
him. The fear of death itself was not heavy upon him. He had faced it
too often, and too coolly, for that. But at the manner of this death
that confronted him his very soul sickened with loathing. As he thought
of it, his horror was not lessened by the sight which now greeted his
view. A colossal, swollen, leprous-looking bulk, pallid and spotted, was
mounting over the bulwark. Two great