The descent, however, has not the brute speed which the force of gravity would give it, if uncontrolled.  It is governed by the action of the spinnerets, which contract or expand their pores, or close them entirely, at the faller’s pleasure.  And so, with gentle moderation she pays out this living plumb-line, of which my lantern clearly shows me the plumb, but not always the line.  The great squab seems at such times to be sprawling in space, without the least support.

She comes to an abrupt stop two inches from the ground; the silk-reel ceases working.  The Spider turns round, clutches the line which she has just obtained and climbs up by this road, still spinning.  But, this time, as she is no longer assisted by the force of gravity, the thread is extracted in another manner.  The two hind-legs, with a quick alternate action, draw it from the wallet and let it go.

On returning to her starting-point, at a height of six feet or more, the Spider is now in possession of a double line, bent into a loop and floating loosely in a current of air.  She fixes her end where it suits her and waits until the other end, wafted by the wind, has fastened its loop to the adjacent twigs.

The desired result may be very slow in coming.  It does not tire the unfailing patience of the Epeira, but it soon wears out mine.  And it has happened to me sometimes to collaborate with the Spider.  I pick up the floating loop with a straw and lay it on a branch, at a convenient height.  The foot-bridge erected with my assistance is considered satisfactory, just as though the wind had placed it.  I count this collaboration among the good actions standing to my credit.

Feeling her thread fixed, the Epeira runs along it repeatedly, from end to end, adding a fibre to it on each journey.  Whether I help or not, this forms the ‘suspension-cable,’ the main piece of the framework.  I call it a cable, in spite of its extreme thinness, because of its structure.  It looks as though it were single, but, at the two ends, it is seen to divide and spread, tuft-wise, into numerous constituent parts, which are the product of as many crossings.  These diverging fibres, with their several contact-points, increase the steadiness of the two extremities.

The suspension-cable is incomparably stronger than the rest of the work and lasts for an indefinite time.  The web is generally shattered after the night’s hunting and is nearly always rewoven on the following evening.  After the removal of the wreckage, it is made all over again, on the same site, cleared of everything except the cable from which the new network is to hang.

The laying of this cable is a somewhat difficult matter, because the success of the enterprise does not depend upon the animal’s industry alone.  It has to wait until a breeze carries the line to the pier-head in the bushes.  Sometimes, a calm prevails; sometimes, the thread catches at an unsuitable point.  This involves great expenditure of time, with no certainty of success.  And so, when once the suspension-cable is in being, well and solidly placed, the Epeira does not change it, except on critical occasions.  Every evening, she passes and repasses over it, strengthening it with fresh threads.