Closer examination revealed that there was a horny beak, like a parrot's, in the mouth, and that on the under side of the head was a curious tube-like structure.
"Oh, that's his squirter!" Billy explained. "When he wants to back up he points that forward, and squirts out water so hard as he can; and when he wants to go ahead he points it backward, and does the same thing. That's where his ink comes from, too, when he wants to make the water so dirty nobody can see him."
"What does he do with his beak?"
"When he gets his food in his arms he bites out pieces with his beak. He hasn't any teeth; but he's got something just as good—a tongue like a rasp."
"I wouldn't like to be cotched by a squid as big as a hogshead," Bobby remarked, timidly.
"Huh!" said Billy, grimly. "He'd make short work o' you! Why, b'y, they weighs half a tone apiece! I isn't much afraid, though," he added. "They're only squid. Afore I read about them in the book I used to think they was worse than they is—terrible ghostlike things. But they're no worse than squids, only bigger, and——"
"They're bad enough for me," Bobby interrupted.
"And," Billy concluded, "they only comes up in the night or when they're sore wounded and dyin'."
"I'm not goin' out at night, if I can help it," said Bobby, with a canny shake of the head.
"If they was a big squid come up the harbor to your house," said Billy, after a pause, "and got close to the rock, he could put one o' they two long arms in your bedroom window, and——"