Cleve said, "They couldn't have done better so easily. They studied our
ecology well. They saw that our greatest potential enemy was the insect
population, and the most vicious part of it was the spider. _Tabanidae
viridis_ was not sent just to plague us with horsefly bites. Tabby was
sent to multiply and feed the arachnids. There are durable species in
all climates. And if our botanist were still alive he could explain in
detail how long our plant life can last under this spider infestation.
"Look for yourself," he said pointing outside. "Not only are the regular
pollenizing insects doomed, but the density of those webs will choke out
even wind pollinated grains."
He stared down our shallow well hole and stamped on a small, black, flat
spider that had slithered under the screening. "I suppose you realize
the spiders got the others. Down here in the tropics the big varieties
could do it by working together. Sellers and Sparks won't return. Sounds
like they got through all right, but they'll be bitten so badly they
won't try to get back."
And even as he spoke we heard one of the aircraft engines start up. The
sound was muffled as under a bed quilt.
Cleve said, "I don't blame them. I'd rather die in the sun, too. The
beach should be fairly clear of webs. We've got one mattress left. What
do you say?"
He's standing there now holding the mattress with the ticking sticking
out. I don't think one torch will get us through. But it will be worth a
try for one more look at the sun.