Trên mỗi ngọn núi đều có những lối đi mà khi đứng dưới thung lũng, bạn không thể nhìn thấy được.
James Rogers
ePub
A4Chapter 9: Wilbur'S Boast
of thin,
delicate strands, the web is not easily
broken. However, a web gets torn 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 Wilbur, as the spider
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, 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 sections."
"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 start?"
"Take a deep breath!" said
Charlotte, smiling. Wilbur 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 attachment with your spinnerets,
hurl yourself into space, and let out a
dragline 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 recovered from his bump.
"Nothing," said Charlotte. "It was a
nice try."
"I think it 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, Templeton?" he called.
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. "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?"
Wilbur 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. Charlotte 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 that 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 manure pile, full of
energy and hope.
"Ever body 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. Charlotte 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?"
"Sort 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 forth 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 sort 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
evening?"
"Where?"
"In a forest looking for beechnuts
and truffles and delectable roots,
pushing leaves aside with my wonderful
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. Furthermore, you
are interrupting a very pleasant
conversation. What were we talking
about, Wilbur, when we were so rudely
interrupted?
"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 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 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
comfortable 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 comforting 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 (traveling
band of performers) 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
understand?"
"Yes, I understand," said Wilbur.
"Go along to bed, then," said
Charlotte. "Sleep is important."
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 potato."
"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 carefully, swallowed
it, and walked back to 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 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!"
