A spider's web is stronger than it looks. Although
it is made ofthin, delicate strands, the web is not easily broken. However, a
webgets torn every day by the insects that kick around in it, and aspider must
rebuild it when it gets full of holes. Charlotte likedto do her weaving during
the late afternoon, and Fern liked to sitnearby and watch. One afternoon she
heard a most interestingconversation and witnessed a strange event.
“You
have awfully hairy legs, Charlotte,” said Wilbur, as thespider busily worked at
her task.
“My legs are
hairy for a good reason,” replied Charlotte.
“Furthermore,
each leg of mine has seven sections—the coxa, thetrochanter, the femur, the
patella, the tibia, the metatarsus, andthe tarsus.”
Wilbur
sat bolt upright, “You’re kidding,” he said.
“No, I’m not,
either.”
“Say those
names again, I didn't catch them the first time.”
“Coxa,
trochanter, femur, patella, tibia, metatarsus, andtarsus.”
“Goodness!”
said Wilbur, looking down at his own chubby legs.
“I don’t think
my legs have seven sections.”
“Well,” said
Charlotte, “you and I lead different lives. Youdon't have to spin a web. That
takes real leg work.”
“I could spin a
web if I tried,” said Wilbur, boasting. “I'vejust never tried.”
“Let’s see you
do it,” said Charlotte. Fern chuckled softly,and her eyes grew wide with love
for the pig.
“O.K.,” replied
Wilbur. “You coach me and I'll spin one. Itmust be a lot of fun to spin a web.
How do I start?”
“Take a deep
breath!” said Charlotte, smiling. Wilbur breatheddeeply.
“Now climb to
the highest place you can get to, like this.”
Charlotte
raced up to the top of the doorway. Wilbur scrambled tothe top of the manure
pile.
“Very good!”
said Charlotte. “Now make an attachment withyour spinnerets, hurl yourself into
space, and let out a dragline asyou go down!”
Wilbur
hesitated a moment, then jumped out into the air. Heglanced hastily behind to
see if a piece of rope was following himto check his fall, but nothing seemed
to be happening in his rear,and the next thing he knew he landed with a thump.
“Ooomp!” hegrunted.
Charlotte
laughed so hard her web began to sway.
“What did I do
wrong?” asked the pig, when he recovered fromhis bump.
“Nothing,” said
Charlotte. “It was a nice try.”
“I think I’ll
try again,” said Wilbur, cheerfully. “Ibelieve what I need is a little piece of
string to hold me.”
The
pig walked out to his yard. “You there, Templeton?” hecalled. The rat poked his
head out from under the trough.
“Got a little
piece of string I could borrow?” asked Wilbur.
“I need it to
spin a web.”
“Yes, indeed,”
replied Templeton, who saved string. “Notrouble at all. Any thing to oblige.”
He crept down into his hole,pushed the goose egg out of the way, and returned
with an old pieceof dirty white string. Wilbur examined it.
“That’s just
the thing,” he said. “Tie one end to my tail,will you, Templeton?”
Wilbur
crouched low, with his thin, curly tail toward the rat.
Templeton
seized the string, passed it around the end of the pig'stail, and tied two half
hitches. Charlotte watched in delight. LikeFern, she was truly fond of Wilbur,
whose smelly pen and stale foodattracted the flies that she needed, and she was
proud to see thathe was not a quitter and was willing to try again to spin a
web.
While
the rat and the spider and the little girl watched, Wilburclimbed again to the
top of the manure pile, full of energy and hope.
“Everybody
watch!” he cried. And summoning all his strength,he threw himself into the air,
headfirst. The string trailed behindhim. But as he had neglected to fasten the
other end to anything, itdidn't really do any good, and Wilbur landed with a
thud, crushedand hurt. Tears came to his eyes. Templeton grinned. Charlotte
justsat quietly. After a bit she spoke.
“You can’t spin
a web, Wilbur, and I advise you to put theidea out of your mind. You lack two
things needed for spinning aweb.”
“What are
they?” asked Wilbur, sadly.
“You lack a set
of spinnerets, and you lack know-how. But cheerup, you don't need a web.
Zucherman supplies you with three bigmeals a day. Why should you worry about
trapping food?”
Wilbur
sighed. “You're ever so much cleverer and brighter thanI am, Charlotte. I guess
I was just trying to show off. Serves meright.”
Templeton
untied his string and took it back to his home.
Charlotte
returned to her weaving.
“You needn't
feel too badly, Wilbur,” she said. “Not manycreatures can spin webs. Even men
aren't as good at it as spiders,although they think they're pretty good, and
they'll try anything.
Did
you ever hear of the Queensborough Bridge?”
Wilbur
shook his head. “Is it a web?”
“Sort of,”
replied Charlotte. “But do you know how long ittook men to build it? Eight whole
years. My goodness, I would havestarved to death waiting that long. I can make
a web in a singleevening.”
“What do people
catch in the Queensborough Bridge—bug?” askedWilbur.
“No,” said
Charlotte. “They don’t catch anything. They justkeep trotting back and forth
across the bridge thinking there issomething better on the other side. If
they’d hang head-down at thetop of the thing and wait quietly, maybe something
good would comealong. But no—with men it’s rush, rush, rush, every minute.
I’mglad I’m a sedentary spider.”
“What does
sedentary mean?” asked Wilbur.
“Means I sit
still a good part of the time and don’t gowandering all over creation. I know a
good thing when I see it, andmy web is a good thing. I stay put and wait for
what comes. Gives mea chance to think.”
“Well, I’m sort
of sedentary myself, I guess,” said the pig.
“I have to hang
around here whether I want to or not. You knowwhere I'd really like to be this
evening?”
“Where?”
“In a forest
looking for beechnuts and truffles and delectableroots, pushing leaves aside
with my wonderful strong nose, searchingand sniffing along the ground,
smelling, smelling, smelling…”
“You smell just
the way you are,” remarked a lamb who had justwalked in. I can smell you from
here. You're the smelliest creaturein the place.”
Wilbur
hung his head. His eyes grew wet with tears. Charlottenoticed his embarrassment
and she spoke sharply to the lamb.
“Leave Wilbur
alone!” she said. “he has a perfect right tosmell, considering his
surroundings. You're no bundle of sweet peasyourself. Furthermore, you are
interrupting a very pleasantconversation. What were we talking about, Wilbur,
when we were sorudely interrupted?”
“Oh, I don't
remember,” said Wilbur. “It doesn't make anydifference. Let's not talk any more
for a while, Charlotte. I'mgetting sleepy. You go ahead and finish fixing your
web and I'lljust lie here and watch you. It's a lovely evening.”
Wilburstretched out on his side.
Twilight
settled over Zuckerman's barn, and a feeling of peace.
Fern
knew it was almost suppertime but she couldn't bear to leave.
Swallows
passed on silent wings, in and out of the doorways,bringing food to their young
ones. From across the road a bird sang“Whippoorwill, whippoorwill!” Lurvy sat
down under an apple treeand lit his pipe; the animals sniffed the familiar
smell of strongtobacco. Wilbur heard the trill of the tree toad and the
occasionalslamming of the kitchen door. All these sounds made him
feelcomfortable and happy, for he loved life and loved to be a part ofthe world
on a summer evening. But as he lay there he rememberedwhat the old sheep had
told him. The thought of death came to himand he began to tremble with fear.
“Charlotte?” he
said, softly.
“Yes, Wilbur?”
“I don’t want
to die.”
“Of course you
don’t,” said Charlotte in a comforting voice.
“I just love it
here in the barn,” said Wilbur. “I loveeverything about this place.”
“Of course you
do,” said Charlotte. “We all do.”
The
goose appeared, followed by her seven goslings. They thrusttheir little necks
out and kept up a musical whistling, like a tinytroupe of pipers. Wilbur
listened to the sound with love in hisheart.
“Charlotte?” he
said.
“Yes?” said the
spider.
“Were you
serious when you promised you would keep them fromkilling me?”
“I was never
more serious in my life. I am not going to let youdie, Wilbur.”
“How are you
going to save me?” asked Wilbur, whose curiositywas very strong on this point.
“Well,” said
Charlotte, vaguely, “I don't really know. ButI'm working on a plan.”
“ That's
wonderful,” said Wilbur. “How is the plan coming,Charlotte? Have you got very
far with it? Is it coming along prettywell?” Wilbur was trembling again, but
Charlotte was cool andcollected.
“Oh, it's
coming all right,” she said, lightly. “The plan isstill in its early stages had
hasn't completely shaped up yet, butI'm working on it.
“When do you
work on it?” begged Wilbur.
“When I'm
hanging head-down at the top of my web. That’s whenI do my thinking, because
then all the blood is in my head.”
“I'd
be only too glad to help in any way I can.”
“Oh, I'll work
it out alone,” said Charlotte. “I can thinkbetter if I think alone.”
“All right,”
said Wilbur. “But don't fail to let me know ifthere's anything I can do to
help, no matter how slight.
“Well,” replied
Charlotte, “you must try to build yourselfup. I want you to get plenty of
sleep, and stop worrying. Neverhurry and never worry! Chew your food thoroughly
and eat every bitof it, except you must leave just enough for Templeton. Gain
weightand stay well — that’s the way you can help. Keep fit, and don’tlose your
nerve. Do you think you understand?
"Yes,
I understand,” said Wilbur.
“Go along to
bed, then,” said Charlotte. “Sleep isimportant.”
Wilbur
trotted over to the darkest corner of his pen and threwhimself down. He closed
his eyes. In another minute he spoke.
“Charlotte?” he
said.
“Yes, Wilbur?”
“May I go out
to my trough and see if I left any of my supper?
I
think I left just a tiny bit of mashed potato.”
“Very well,”
said Charlotte. “But I want you in bed againwithout delay.”
Wilbur
started to race out to his yard.
“Slowly,
slowly!” said Charlotte. “Never hurry and neverworry!”
Wilbur
checked himself and crept slowly to his trough. He founda bit of potato, chewed
it carefully, swallowed it, and walked backto bed. He closed his eyes and was
silent for a while.
“Charlotte?” he
said, in a whisper.
“Yes?”
“May I get a
drink of milk?” I think there are a few drops ofmilk left in my trough.”
“No, the trough
is dry, and I want you to go to sleep. No moretalking! Close your eyes and go
to sleep!”
Wilbur
shut his eyes. Fern got up from her stool and started forhome, her mind full of
everything she had seen and heard.
“Good night,
Charlotte!” said Wilbur.
“Good night,
Wilbur!”
There
was a pause.
“Good night,
Charlotte!”
“Good night,
Wilbur!”
“Good night!”
“Good night!”