234 I N A G U A 



hood these gills had been comfortably wet. But when the epic 

 moment arrived when the baby crab, drawn by some unac- 

 countable instinct, struggled its way through the last inch of 

 foam and stood wet and dripping in the open air, it must have 

 felt a surge of wxU being. The gills, which before had labo- 

 riously separated the water-clinging oxygen, must have drunk 

 in the free air, soaking it up in quantities. 



It is a cosmic thing to step suddenly from one world into 

 another. However, it is probable that the baby crab did not 

 think it cosmic at all, for baby crabs function chiefly by blind 

 instinct. Instinct coupled with activity caused the crablet to 

 struggle further up on dry land, fully six inches out of the surf. 

 It must have been a terrific struggle, for, remember, the infant 

 is probably an eighth of an inch in length. Tiny sand grains 

 must have been as great as boulders; a half-buried sea shell a 

 veritable mountain. 



Presently, back in what serves the creature for a mind, 

 comes a feeling that all is not well. There is a tight feeling 

 around the gills, a dry, uncomfortable, oppressive sensation. 

 Panic-stricken it dashes back to the sea. But only for a time. 

 Soon there is a desire for the air again, for the warm wind that 

 glides over the beach, rustling the leaves back of the sand. 



And so for a period, the tiny creature repeats the story of 

 its ancestry, the stepping on dry land and the returning to 

 Mother Sea again. Little by little, the dry land gains ascend- 

 ancy of the instincts of the tiny mite; only it is not so tiny 

 now, for it has moulted a number of times, casting aside its 

 shell and increasing in stature. The gills have become accus- 

 tomed to the air, though they must still be kept moist. To aid 

 them the body has become equipped with an air chamber 

 which takes over the duties of breathing, relieving the tender 

 gills. 



In time there comes a day when in a vast horde the swarm- 



