e still isn't giving out with the opinions. He works incessantly and
has filled two notebooks full of data. Looks to me like our work is
almost done.

* * * * *

August 7, Year of our Lord 1956--To whom it will never concern: I can no
longer make believe this is addressed to my friend, Ben Tobin. Cleveland
has convinced me of the implications of our tragedy here. But somehow it
gives me some crazy, necessary ray of hope to keep this journal until
the end.

I think the real horror of this thing started to penetrate to me about
June 6. Our big spray job lasted less than 24 hours, and on that morning
I was watching for the planes to come in for a second try at it when I
noticed the heavy spider webbing in the upper tree foliage. As I looked
a gull dove through the trees, mouth open, eating Tabbies. Damned if the
webs didn't foul his wings. At first he tore at them bravely and it
looked like he was trying to swim in thin mud--sort of slow motion. Then
he headed into a thick patch, slewed around at right angles and did a
complete flip. Instantly three mammoth spiders the size of my fist
pounced out on him and trussed him up before he could tear loose with
his feet.

His pitiful squawking was what made me feel that horror for the first
time. And the scene was repeated more and more often. The planes dusted
us with everything they had, and it cut down the Tabbies pretty well
again, but it didn't touch the spiders, of course.

And then our return radio messages started getting very vague. We were
transmitting Cleve's data hourly as he compiled it, and we had been
getting ordinary chatter and speculation from the Honolulu operator at
the end of our message. That stopped on the sixth of June. Since then,
we've had only curt acknowledgements of our data and sign-offs.

At the same time, we noticed that complete censorship on news of our
situation and progress apparently hit all the long-wave radio
broadcasts. Up to that time the newscasts had been feeding out a dilute
and very cautious pablum about our fight against Tabby. Immediately when
we noticed this news blind spot Cleve went all to pieces and started
drinking again.

Cleve, Sellers and I had the lab tent to ourselves, having moved our
bunks in there, so we got a little out of touch with the others. It
wasn't the way Sellers and I liked it, but none of us liked the trip
from lab to living quarters any more, although it was only fifty fe