evening I sold some to the Bird Woman. Next morning I found a note telling me it wasn't safe to go inside the swamp. That sort of scared me. I think I'll go alone rather than miss the chance, but I'd be so happy if you would take care of me. Then I could go anywhere I chose, because if I mired you could pull me out. You will take care of me, Pete?"
That was the finishing stroke.
"Yes, I'll take care of you," promised Pete Corson.
"Goody!" said Elnora. "Let's start quick! And Pete, you look at these closely, and when you are hunting or going along the road, if one dangles under your nose, you cut off the little twig and save it for me, will you?"
"Yes, I'll save you all I see," promised Pete. He pushed back his hat and followed Elnora. She plunged fearlessly through bushes, over underbrush, and across dead logs. One minute she was crying wildly that here was a big one, the next she was reaching for a limb above her head, or on her knees overturning dead leaves under a hickory or oak tree, or pushing aside black muck with her bare hands as she searched for buried pupæ cases. For the first hour Pete bent back bushes and followed, carrying what Elnora discovered. Then he found one.
"Is this the kind of thing you are looking for?" he asked, bashfully, as he presented a wild cherry twig.
"Oh, Pete, that's a Promethea! I didn't even hope to find one."
"What's the bird like?" asked Pete.
"Almost black wings," said Elnora, "with clay-col-
