metamorphoses, which is not the
case with the spider. You must recollect, too, that the spider is akin
to the scorpion."

"Yes; but scorpions don't know how to spin."

"Well, all spiders do not possess this art. One of the species you were
looking at just now lives on plants, and would be much embarrassed if it
happened to fall into the web of its spinning sister; added to which, it
would run no small risk of being devoured."

"Will spiders eat one another?"

"Without the least scruple, and scorpions do the same. It is, in fact, a
family vice."

"I am not at all astonished, then, that the whole family are so ugly."

"If they were ever so beautiful, it would make no difference in their
evil disposition. They have, however, some good qualities; such, for
instance, as patience and resolution. The poor spider, now, that we are
looking at, is working desperately to catch a prey which is constantly
escaping. Sometimes it is the wind which destroys the web so
industriously woven; sometimes a great beetle plunges heavily through
the net. Nevertheless, the spider is not the least discouraged; he again
sets his snare, and, while he is quietly watching for the game necessary
for his subsistence, it too often happens that he is himself carried off
in the beak of some bird."

Lucien and I now went among the trees in quest of something substantial
for our dinner. The first thing we met with was a kind of marten, which
looked viciously at us, and greeted us with a shrill cry. Gringalet
darted off in pursuit of the animal, and followed it until it reached
its hole. This animal, like the European marten, from which it differs
only in size, often establishes itself in barns and granaries, where at
night it amuses itself with the noisiest gambols. In the environs of the
Mexican towns, many a house, invaded by these martens, is abandoned by
its owner, because it is thought to be haunted by ghosts.

"Look out for yourselves!" cried l'Encuerado, suddenly.

A mephitic weasel or skunk, an animal which somewhat resembles a
polecat, came running by. Gringalet, tired of waiting for the marten,
crossed the trail of the beast, and set off after it, in spite of our
calls. The skunk suddenly stopped and scratched up the earth with its
sharp claws; then it voided a liquid of such a fetid odor that the dog
was compelled to beat a retreat.

L'Encuerado, with his finger on the trigger of his gun, started again,
and led us along noiselessly. H