THE BAY OF BUTTERFLIES 267 
pinch of life which was blown or walked or fell 
or flew to the rocks during their brief respite 
from the waves, accepted the good dry surface 
without question. 
Seeds and berries fell, and rolled into hollows 
rich in mulcted earth; parachutes, buoyed on 
thistle silk, sailed from distant jungle plants; 
every swirl of breeze brought spores of lichens 
and moss, and even the retreating water unwit- 
tingly aided, having transported hither and 
dropped a cargo of living things, from tiniest 
plant to seeds of mightiest mora. Though in the 
few allotted hours these might not sprout, but 
only quicken in their heart, yet blue-winged wasps 
made their faith more manifest, and worked with 
feverish haste to gather pellets of clay and fash- 
ion cells. I once saw even the beginning of stor- 
age—a green spider, which an hour later was 
swallowed by a passing fish instead of nourishing 
an infant wasp. 
Spiders raised their meshes where shrimps had 
skipped, and flies hummed and were caught by 
singing jungle vireos, where armored catfish had 
passed an hour or two before. 
So the elements struggled and the creatures, 
