CHARLOTTE'S WEB

CHAPTER 9

Wilbur's Boast

ASPIDER'S web is stronger than it looks. Al-

though it is made of thin, delicate strands,

the web is not easily broken. However, a

web gets tom every day by the insects that

kick around in it, and a spider must rebuild it when it

gets full of holes. Charlotte liked to do her weaving

during the late afternoon, and Fern liked to sit nearby

and watch. One afternoon she heard a most interesting

conversation and witnessed a strange event.

"You have awfully hairy legs, Charlotte," said Wil-

bur, as the spider busily worked at her task.

"My legs are hairy for a good reason," replied Char-

lotte. "Funhermore, each leg of mine has seven sec-

tions--the coxa, the trochanter, the femur, the patella,

the tibia, the metatarsus, and the 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,

and tarsus."

"Goodness!" said Wilbur, looking down at his own

chubby legs. "I don't think my legs have seven sec-

tions."

"Well," said Charlotte, "you and I lead different

lives. You don't have to spin a web. That takes real leg

work."

"I could spin a web if I tried," said Wilbur, boasting.

"I've just 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. It must be a lot of fun to spin a web. How do I

starr?"

"Take a deep breath!" said Charlotte, smiling. Wil-

bur breathed deeply. "Now climb to the highest place

you can get to, like this." Charlotte raced up to the top

of the doorway. Wilbur scrambled to the top of the

manure pile.

"Very good! " said Charlotte. "Now make an attach-

ment with your spinnerets, hurl yourself into space,

and let out a drag line as you go down!"

Wilbur hesitated a moment, then jumped out into

the air. He glanced hastily behind to see if a piece of

rope was following him to check his fall, but nothing

seemed to be happening in his rear, and the next thing he knew he landed with a thump. "Ooomp! " he

grunted.

Charlotte laughed so hard her web began to sway.

"What did I do wrong?" asked the pig, when he re-

covered from his bump.

"Nothing," said Charlotte. "It was a nice try."

"I think I'll try again," said Wilbur, cheerfully. "I

believe what I need is a little piece of string to hold me."

The pig walked out to his yard. "You there, Temple-

ton?" he called. The rat poked his head out from under

the trough.

"Got a little piece of string I could borrow?" asked

Vilbur. "I need it to spin a web."

"Yes, indeed," replied Templeton, who saved string.

"No trouble at all. Anything to oblige." He crept

down into his hole, pushed the goose egg out of the

way, and returned with an old piece of dirty white

string. Wilbur examined it.

"That's just the thing," he said. "Tie one end to my

tail, will you, Templeton?"

Vilbur crouched low, with his thin, curly tail toward

the rat. Templeton seized the string, passed it around

the end of the pig's tail, and tied two half hitches. Char-

lotte watched in delight. Like Fern, she was truly fond

of Wilbur, whose smelly pen and stale food attracted

the flies that she needed, and she was proud to see thar he 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, Wilbur climbed again to the top of the ma-

nure 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 behind him. But as he had neglected

to fasten the other end to anything, it didn't really do

any good, and Wilbur landed with a thud, crushed and

hurt. Tears came to his eyes. Templeton grinned. Char-

lotte just sat quietly. After a bit she spoke.

"You can't spin a web, Wilbur, and I advise you to

put the idea out of your mind. You lack two things

needed for spinning a web."

"What are they? " asked Wilbur, sadly.

"You lack a set of spinnerets, and you lack know-

how. But cheer up, you don't need a web. Zuckerman

supplies you with three big meals a day. Why should

you worry about trapping food?"

Wilbur sighed. "You're ever so much cleverer and

brighter than I am, Charlotte. I guess I was just trying

to show off. Serves me right."

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

many creatures 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?"

"Son of," replied Charlotte. "But do you know how

long it took men to build it? Eight whole years. My

goodness, I would have starved to death waiting that

long. I can make a web in a single evening."

"What do people catch in the Queensborough Bridge

-bugs?" asked Wilbur.

"No," said Charlotte. "They don't catch anything.

They just keep trotting back and fonh across the

bridge thinking there is something better on the other

side. If they'd hang head-down at the top of the thing

and wait quietly, maybe something good would come

along. But no--with men it's rush, rush, rush, every

minute. I'm glad I'm a sedentary spider."

"What does sedentary mean? " asked Wilbur.

"Means I sit still a good part of the time and don't

go wandering all over creation. I know a good thing

when I see it, and my web is a good thing. I stay put

and wait for what comes. Gives me a chance to think."

"Well, I'm son of sedentary myself, I guess," said

the pig. "I have to hang around here whether I want to

or not. You know where I'd really like to be this eve-

ning?"

"Where?"

"In a forest looking for beechnuts and truffles and

delectable roots, pushing leaves aside with my wonder-

ful strong nose, searching and sniffing along the ground,

smelling, smelling, smelling ... "

"You smell just the way you are," remarked a lamb

who had just walked in. "I can smell you from here.

You're the smelliest creature in the place."

Wilbur hung his head. His eyes grew wet with tears.

Charlotte noticed his embarrassment and she spoke

sharply to the lamb.

"Let Wilbur alone!" she said. "He has a perfect

right to smell, considering his surroundings. You're no

bundle of sweet peas yourself. Funhermore, you are

interrupting a very pleasant conversation. What were

we talking about, Wilbur, when we were so rudely in-

terrupted?"

"Oh, I don't remember," said Wilbur. "It doesn't make any difference. Let's not talk any more for a

while, Charlotte. I'm getting sleepy. You go ahead and

finish fixing your web and I'll just lie here and watch

you. It's a lovely evening." Wilbur stretched out on

his side.

Twilight settled over Zuckerman's barn, and a feel-

ing 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 tree and lit his pipe; the animals sniffed the

familiar smell of strong tobacco. Wilbur heard the trill

of the tree toad and the occasional slamming of the

kitchen door. All these sounds made him feel comfort-

able and happy, for he loved life and loved to be a part

of the world on a summer evening. But as he lay there

he remembered what the old sheep had told him. The

thought of death came to him and 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 comfort-

ing voice.

"I just love it here in the barn," said Wilbur. "I love

everything about this place."

"Of course you do," said Charlotte. "We all do."

The goose appeared, followed by her seven goslings.

They thrust their little necks out and kept up a musical

whistling, like a tiny troupe of pipers. Wilbur listened

to the sound with love in his heart.

"Charlotte?" he said.

"Yes?" said the spider.

"Were you serious when you promised you would

keep them from killing me?"

"I was never more serious in my life. I am not going

to let you die, Wilbur."

"How are you going to save me?" asked Wilbur,

whose curiosity was very strong on this point.

"Well," said Charlotte, vaguely, "I don't really

know. But I'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 pretty well?" Wilbur was trembling

again, but Charlotte was cool and collected.

"Oh, it's coming all right," she said, lightly. "The

plan is still in its early stages and hasn't completely

shaped up yet, but I'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 when I 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

think better if I think alone."

"All right," said Wilbur. "But don't fail to let me

know if there's anything I can do to help, no matter

how slight."

"Well," replied Charlotte, "you must try to build

yourself up. I want you to get plenty of sleep, and stop

worrying. Never hurry and never worry! Chew your

food thoroughly and eat every bit of it, except you

must leave just enough for Templeton. Gain weight

and stay well-that's the way you can help. Keep fit,

and don't lose your nerve. Do you think you under-

stand?"

"Yes, I understand," said Wilbur.

"Go along to bed, then," said Charlotte. "Sleep is im-

portant."

Wilbur trotted over to the darkest corner of his pen

and threw himself 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 po-

tato."

"Very well," said Charlotte. "But I want you in bed

again without delay."

Wilbur started to race out to his yard.

"Slowly, slowly! " said Charlotte. "Never hurry and

never worry! "

Wilbur checked himself and crept slowly to his

trough. He found a bit of potato, chewed it l:arefully,

swallowed it, and walked back to bed. He closed his

eyes and was silent for a while.

"Charlotte?" he said, in a whisper.

"Y cs?"

"May I get a drink of milk? I think there are a few

drops of milk left in my trough."

"No, the trough is dry, and I want you to go to sleep.

No more talking! Close your eyes and go to sleep! "

Wilbur shut his eyes. Fern got up from her stool and

started for home, 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! "