That was one of his most miserable moments. But he soon made up his
mind that it was no good trying to do anything till day came with some
little light, and quite useless to go blundering about tiring himself
out with no hope of any breakfast to revive him. So he sat himself
down with his back to a tree, and not for the last time fell to
thinking of his far-distant hobbit-hole with its beautiful pantries.
He was deep in thoughts of bacon and eggs and toast and butter when he
felt something touch him. Something like a strong sticky string was
against his left hand, and when he tried to move he found that his
legs were already wrapped in the same stuff, so that when he got up he
fell over.
     Then the great spider, who had been busy tying him up while he dozed,
came from behind him and came at him. He could only see the things’s
eyes, but he could feel its hairy legs as it struggled to wind its
abominable threads round and round him. It was lucky that he had come
to his senses in time. Soon he would not have been able to move at
all. As it was, he had a desperate fight before he got free. He beat
the creature off with his hands-it was trying to poison him to keep
him quiet, as small spiders do to flies-until he remembered his sword
and drew it out. Then the spider jumped back, and he had time to cut