loo THE TRIBES ON MY FRONTIER. 



the watery transparence of that blue-green wing, and the 

 richness of its brown border! But this is one of the 

 butterflies that soon fade, do what you will. Should one 

 of the large black swallow-tails, with red crescents on their 

 hinder wings (of which there are four kinds in Bombay), 

 come sailing past, like a goodly vessel with sails spread, it 

 would be folly to wait for it to stop at a flower. It is 

 most likely on a long voyage, and will not stop at all. 

 You must run ahead and meet it in its course, when, as 

 it passes, a well-aimed following stroke will make it your 

 prize. Then there is a large family of brilliant butterflies 

 which love to bask in the sun and display their beauty. 

 Only an utter greenhorn would rush at one of these. It 

 must be caught, as a cat catches a mouse, by patience and 

 stealth. If once scared, it is lost. It should never see the 

 net until it sees it from the inside. Other kinds must be 

 caught in other ways, some by adroit manoeuvres which it 

 is difficult to describe and much more difficult to perform. 

 Occasionally, when a precious prize passes which may 

 never pass again, and shows no sign of pausing, there is 

 nothing for it but to give chase. Speedy legs and good 

 wind, inspired by, say, a leaf-butterfly, or that tailless 

 prince of swallow-tails, the black and blue giant of the 



