posite canyon wall. High up the pinnacles and
turrets pointed toward a resplendent moon. It was a weird, wonderful
scene of beauty entrancing, of breathless, dreaming silence that seemed
not of life. Then a hoot-owl lamented dismally, his call fitting the
scene and the dead stillness; the echoes resounded from cliff to cliff,
strangely mocking and hollow, at last reverberating low and mournful in
the distance.

How long I lay there enraptured with the beauty of light and mystery of
shade, thrilling at the lonesome lament of the owl, I have no means to
tell; but I was awakened from my trance by the touch of something
crawling over me. Promptly I raised my head. The cave was as light as
day. There, sitting sociably on my sleeping-bag was a great black
tarantula, as large as my hand.

For one still moment, notwithstanding my contempt for Lawson's advice,
I certainly acted upon it to the letter. If ever I was quiet, and if
ever I was cold, the time was then. My companions snored in blissful
ignorance of my plight. Slight rustling sounds attracted my wary gaze
from the old black sentinel on my knee. I saw other black spiders
running to and fro on the silver, sandy floor. A giant, as large as a
soft-shell crab, seemed to be meditating an assault upon Jones's ear.
Another, grizzled and shiny with age or moonbeams I could not tell
which--pushed long, tentative feelers into Wallace's cap. I saw black
spots darting over the roof. It was not a dream; the cave was alive
with tarantulas!

Not improbably my strong impression that the spider on my knee
deliberately winked at me was the result of memory, enlivening
imagination. But it sufficed to bring to mind, in one rapid, consoling
flash, the irrevocable law of destiny--that the deeds of the wicked
return unto them again.

I slipped back into my sleeping-bag, with a keen consciousness of its
nature, and carefully pulled the flap in place, which almost
hermetically sealed me up.

"Hey! Jones! Wallace! Frank! Jim!" I yelled, from the depths of my safe
refuge.

Wondering cries gave me glad assurance that they had awakened from
their dreams.

"The cave's alive with tarantulas!" I cried, trying to hide my unholy
glee.

"I'll be durned if it ain't!" ejaculated Frank.

"Shore it beats hell!" added Jim, with a shake of his blanket.

"Look out, Jones, there's one on your pillow!" shouted Wallace.

Whack! A sharp blow proclaimed the opening of hostilities.

Memory stamped ind