Dragged down by his own weight, the Mole sinks into the grave, but slantwise, with his head still outside, kept in place by the second ligature.
The Beetles proceed to the burial of the hinder part of the Mole; they twitch and jerk it now in this direction, now in that.

Nothing comes of it; the thing refuses to give.

A fresh sortie is made by one of them to discover what is happening overhead.

The second ligature is perceived, is severed in turn, and henceforth the work proceeds as well as could be desired.
My compliments, perspicacious cable-cutters! But I must not exaggerate.
The lashings of the Mole were for you the little cords with which you are so familiar in turfy soil.

You have severed them, as well as the hammock of the previous experiment, just as you sever with the blades of your shears any natural filament which stretches across your catacombs.