236 I N A G U A 



With their claws they dig out the loam, roll it into little balls, 

 and carry them, one at a time, to their doorways. In the warm 

 tropic nights they go forth to feed, clipping the succulent 

 jungle twigs and carrying them back to their dens. 



In the months that follow they grow, casting aside their 

 shells, becoming more and more amazing in appearance. By 

 November they are fully adult— purplish creatures with gro- 

 tesque gnome-like faces. And to make them even more weird 

 their eyes are set on stalks and their mouths open not up and 

 down but sideways. 



The rainy season passes and afterwards the sun shines with 

 tropical fierceness. The ground dries out to powdery softness 

 and great cakes of hard mud take the place of lakes and ponds. 

 The vegetation withers, loses its succulent greenness, and be- 

 comes dry and dull. And these are the gray days for the land 

 crabs, for they dare not venture forth to feed. Only in the 

 cool of their holes is there moisture enough to keep them 

 alive. February ghdes into March and March into April. The 

 sun becomes more intense and only the cacti appear to remain 

 green and fresh. 



Particularly do the females need the dampness, for they 

 have become laden with eggs. In great purple masses they hang 

 beneath their aprons. There are hundreds of these eggs, each 

 about the size of a pin head, all glued together in a viscid mass. 

 It is time to go— if only the rains would come. 



A female stirs in her burrow. There is a feeling in the air. 

 Off in the distance somber gray clouds are forming, gathering 

 in sullen masses. Thunder rolls fitfully and dies away. The 

 trade wind is gone and the air is still— very quiet and heavy. 

 It is terribly hot. Across the dry salinas the heat waves are 

 dancing, making queer images. The clouds pile up, higher and 

 higher, jet black in the middle. Thunder rolls again. The sun 

 drops towards the horizon, tinging the world with refulgent 



