this snare was no human being, but a venomous spider, peculiar
to that country, as large as a pigeon's egg, and armed with
enormous claws. The hideous creature, instead of rushing on its
prey, had beaten a sudden retreat and taken refuge in the upper
branches of the tulip-tree, for a formidable enemy menaced
its stronghold.

Here, then, was Nicholl, his gun on the ground, forgetful
of danger, trying if possible to save the victim from its
cobweb prison. At last it was accomplished, and the little
bird flew joyfully away and disappeared.

Nicholl lovingly watched its flight, when he heard these words
pronounced by a voice full of emotion:

"You are indeed a brave man."

He turned. Michel Ardan was before him, repeating in a
different tone:

"And a kindhearted one!"

"Michel Ardan!" cried the captain. "Why are you here?"

"To press your hand, Nicholl, and to prevent you from either
killing Barbicane or being killed by him."

"Barbicane!" returned the captain. "I have been looking for him
for the last two hours in vain. Where is he hiding?"