Then, swift and smooth as a shadow, he shot in diagonally, well below the range of those crashing strokes.

His sword went clean through the body of the calf, through its heart, killing it instantly, and at the same time forcing it from its mother's hold.

The lifeless but still quivering form fixed thus firmly on his sword, he darted away with it, and was instantly lost to view beyond the dense, churned hosts of the pink shrimps.
"For perhaps a minute the mother, as if bewildered by the violence of her own exertions, seemed quite unaware of what had happened.

At length she stopped lashing the water, came slowly to the surface stared about her in a dazed way, and once more bellowed forth her terrible booming cry.

Once more the seabirds sprang terrified to the upper air, and the old white bear on the far-off shore lifted his head once more to listen nervously." "And she never saw her baby any more," murmured the Babe mournfully.
Uncle Andy snorted, disdaining to answer such a remark.
"Oh, I wish somebody would do something to that swordfish," continued the Babe.