We looked at the sheer opposing cliff, but save where a black hole marked the cave mouth, far as the eye could see, the water came up against it, as that of a moat does against the wall of a castle.
Obviously, therefore, the only line of escape ran through this cave, for, as I have explained, the channel by which I presume Babemba reached the open lake, was now impracticable.

Lastly, we searched to see if there was any fallen log upon which we could possibly propel ourselves to the other side, and found--nothing that could be made to serve, no, nor, as I have said, any dry reeds or brushwood out of which we might fashion a raft.
"Unless we can get a boat, here we must stay," I remarked to Hans, who was seated with me behind a screen of rushes at the water's edge.
He made no answer, and as I thought, in a sort of subconscious way, I engaged myself in watching a certain tragedy of the insect world.
Between two stout reeds a forest spider of the very largest sort had spun a web as big as a lady's open parasol.

There in the midst of this web of which the bottom strands almost touched the water, sat the spider waiting for its prey, as the crocodiles were waiting on the banks, as the great ape had waited for the Kalubis, as Death waits for Life, as the Motombo was waiting for God knows what.
It rather resembled the Motombo in his cave, did that huge, black spider with just a little patch of white upon its head, or so I thought fancifully enough.

Then came the tragedy.

A great, white moth of the Hawk species began to dart to and fro between the reeds, and presently struck the web on its lower side some three inches above the water.