"He spoke a few unintelligible words, and turned to the peasants.
"'My friends,' he cried, 'that is where the mass of débris and those skeletons come from. It is the spider which has frightened away your visitors, and ruined you all. It is there hidden in its web, entrapping its prey into the depths of the cavern. Who can say the number of its victims?'
"IT RUSHED OUT AND PUT ITS CLAWS AROUND THE COMMODORE'S NECK."
"He rushed impetuously from the house, and all the woodcutters hurried after him.
"'Bring fagots, bring fagots!' he cried.
"Ten minutes later two immense carts, laden with fagots, slowly mounted the hill; a long file of woodcutters followed, with hatchets on their shoulders. My guardian and I walked in front, holding the horses by the bridle; while the moon lent a vague, melancholy light to the funereal procession.
"At the entrance of the cavern the cortége stopped. The torches were lighted and the crowd advanced. The limpid water flowed over the sand, reflecting the blue light of the resinous torches, the rays of which illuminated the tops of the dark, overhanging pines on the rocks above us.
"'It is here you must unload,' said the doctor. 'We must block up the entrance of the cavern.'