learn if we have made a catch. If we have, we should beat the birds to
it. I promised Uncle Doc to put on my waders and keep dry for a few days
yet, when I go to the woods. Let's hurry! I am afraid of crows. There
might be a rare moth."

The sun was topping the Limberlost when they started. As they neared the
place Philip stopped.

"Now we must use great caution," he said. "The lights and the odours
always attract numbers that don't settle on the baited trees. Every
bush, shrub, and limb may hide a specimen we want."

So they approached with much care.

"There is something, anyway!" cried Philip.

"There are moths! I can see them!" exulted Elnora.

"Those you see are fast enough. It's the ones for which you must search
that will escape. The grasses are dripping, and I have boots, so you
look beside the path while I take the outside," suggested Ammon.

Mrs. Comstock wanted to hunt moths, but she was timid about making a
wrong movement, so she wisely sat on a log and watched Philip and Elnora
to learn how they proceeded. Back in the deep woods a hermit thrush was
singing his chant to the rising sun. Orioles were sowing the pure, sweet
air with notes of gold, poured out while on wing. The robins were only
chirping now, for their morning songs had awakened all the other birds
an hour ago. Scolding red-wings tilted on half the bushes. Excepting
late species of haws, tree bloom was almost gone, but wild flowers made