Part 34 (2/2)

”Then I guess it's your funeral,” said Pete. ”There ain't a chance in a dozen the right one will come. What colour was it?”

”Yellow, and big as a bird.”

”The Emperor, likely,” said Pete. ”You dig for that kind, and they are not numerous, so's 'at you can smash 'em for fun.”

”Well, I can try to get one, anyway,” said Mrs. Comstock. ”I forgot all about bringing anything to put them in. You take a pinch on their wings until I make a poke.”

Mrs. Comstock removed her ap.r.o.n, tearing off the strings. She unfastened and stepped from the skirt of her calico dress. With one ap.r.o.n string she tied shut the band and placket. She pulled a wire pin from her hair, stuck it through the other string, and using it as a bodkin ran it around the hem of her skirt, so shortly she had a large bag. She put several branches inside to which the moths could cling, closed the mouth partially and held it toward Pete.

”Put your hand well down and let the things go!” she ordered. ”But be careful, man! Don't run into the twigs! Easy! That's one. Now the other.

Is the one on my head gone? There was one on my dress, but I guess it flew. Here comes a kind of a gray-looking one.”

Pete slipped several more moths into the bag.

”Now, that's five, Mrs. Comstock,” he said. ”I'm sorry, but you'll have to make that do. You must get out of here lively. Your lights will be taken for hurry calls, and inside the next hour a couple of men will ride here like fury. They won't be nice Sunday-school men, and they won't hold bags and catch moths for you. You must go quick!”

Mrs. Comstock laid down the bag and pulled one of the lanterns lower.

”I won't budge a step,” she said. ”This land doesn't belong to you.

You have no right to order me off it. Here I stay until I get a Yellow Emperor, and no little petering thieves of this neighbourhood can scare me away.”

”You don't understand,” said Pete. ”I'm willing to help Elnora, and I'd take care of you, if I could, but there will be too many for me, and they will be mad at being called out for nothing.”

”Well, who's calling them out?” demanded Mrs. Comstock. ”I'm catching moths. If a lot of good-for-nothings get fooled into losing some sleep, why let them, they can't hurt me, or stop my work.”

”They can, and they'll do both.”

”Well, I'll see them do it!” said Mrs. Comstock. ”I've got Robert's revolver in my dress, and I can shoot as straight as any man, if I'm mad enough. Any one who interferes with me to-night will find me mad a-plenty. There goes another!”

She stepped into the light and waited until a big brown moth settled on her and was easily taken. Then in light, airy flight came a delicate pale green thing, and Mrs. Comstock started in pursuit. But the scent was not right. The moth fluttered high, then dropped lower, still lower, and sailed away. With outstretched hands Mrs. Comstock pursued it. She hurried one way and another, then ran over an object which tripped her and she fell. She regained her feet in an instant, but she had lost sight of the moth. With livid face she turned to the crouching man.

”You nasty, sneaking son of Satan!” she cried. ”Why are you hiding there? You made me lose the one I wanted most of any I've had a chance at yet. Get out of here! Go this minute, or I'll fill your worthless carca.s.s so full of holes you'll do to sift cornmeal. Go, I say! I'm using the Limberlost to-night, and I won't be stopped by the devil himself! Cut like fury, and tell the rest of them they can just go home.

Pete is going to help me, and he is all of you I need. Now go!”

The man turned and went. Pete leaned against a tree, held his mouth shut and shook inwardly. Mrs. Comstock came back panting.

”The old scoundrel made me lose that!” she said. ”If any one else comes snooping around here I'll just blow them up to start with. I haven't time to talk. Suppose that had been yellow! I'd have killed that man, sure! The Limberlost isn't safe to-night, and the sooner those whelps find it out, the better it will be for them.”

Pete stopped laughing to look at her. He saw that she was speaking the truth. She was quite past reason, sense, or fear. The soft night air stirred the wet hair around her temples, the flickering lanterns made her face a ghastly green. She would stop at nothing, that was evident.

Pete suddenly began catching moths with exemplary industry. In putting one into the bag, another escaped.

”We must not try that again,” said Mrs. Comstock. ”Now, what will we do?”

”We are close to the old case,” said Pete. ”I think I can get into it.

Maybe we could slip the rest in there.”

”That's a fine idea!” said Mrs. Comstock. ”They'll have so much room there they won't be likely to hurt themselves, and the books say they don't fly in daytime unless they are disturbed, so they will settle when it's light, and I can come with Elnora to get them.”

<script>