174 
A NATURALIST ON THE PROWL. 
slipped through my fingers and went off like a snipe. 
There was not breeze enough to stir a feather and the 
spider had no wings, but no witch on a broomstick could 
have ridden the air with more ease. We both darted 
after it and caught it again, but it gave us the slip once 
more and sailed away. We stood aghast and looked at 
each other. Then I proposed to my friend that we should 
give an account of the affair at the next meeting of a 
certain learned society. But he would not hear of it I 
offered to be spokesman, but he would not even promise 
to stand by me. 
Perhaps he was wise. I have, heard a story of an officer 
who was recounting at the Mess table an almost incredible 
adventure in which he and a brother officer had been 
engaged. As he proceeded he saw an eloquent smile form 
itself on the features of one after another of those who 
listened to him, and a low whistle came from the extreme 
end of the table. Vexed at being doubted, he protested 
that he had not exaggerated a single incident, and he 
appealed to his friend to corroborate what he had said. 
But the friend, too, smole a smile, and the narrator was 
crushed. Boiling with rage, he waited for an opportunity 
of finding his friend alone and confronted him. 
