ach time strengthens the points of
contact with intricate moorings distributed here and there. The result
is a scanty and disordered scaffolding.

Is disordered the word? Perhaps not. The Epeira's eye, more experienced
in matters of this sort than mine, has recognized the general lie of the
land; and the rope-fabric has been erected accordingly: it is very
inaccurate in my opinion, but very suitable for the Spider's designs.
What is it that she really wants? A solid frame to contain the network
of the web. The shapeless structure which she has just built fulfils the
desired conditions: it marks out a flat, free and perpendicular area.
This is all that is necessary.

The whole work, for that matter, is now soon completed; it is done all
over again, each evening, from top to bottom, for the incidents of the
chase destroy it in a night. The net is as yet too delicate to resist
the desperate struggles of the captured prey. On the other hand, the
adults' net, which is formed of stouter threads, is adapted to last some
time; and the Epeira gives it a more carefully-constructed framework, as
we shall see elsewhere.

A special thread, the foundation of the real net, is stretched across the
area so capriciously circumscribed. It is distinguished from the others
by its isolation, its position at a distance from any twig that might
interfere with its swaying length. It never fails to have, in the
middle, a thick white point, formed of a little silk cushion. This is
the beacon that marks the centre of the future edifice, the post that
will guide the Epeira and bring order into the wilderness of twists and
turns.

The time has come to weave the hunting-snare. The Spider starts from the
centre, which bears the white signpost, and, running along the
transversal thread, hurriedly reaches the circumference, that is to say,
the irregular frame enclosing the free space. Still with the same sudden
movement, she rushes from the circumference to the centre; she starts
again backwards and forwards, makes for the right, the left, the top, the
bottom; she hoists herself up, dives down, climbs up again, runs down and
always returns to the central landmark by roads that slant in the most
unexpected manner. Each time, a radius or spoke is laid, here, there, or
elsewhere, in what looks like mad disorder.

The operation is so erratically conducted that it takes the most
unremitting attention to follow it at all. The Spider reaches