208 THE SWAN AND HER CREW. 



That night was a still, warm night, and the moths were out in 

 abundance. As soon as it became dark they all went out with 

 a dark lantern to hunt them, and they were very successful. As 

 they were returning home they passed by an old wall covered 

 with huge masses of ivy. Dick going close to it said, 



" Do look here. There are hundreds of tiny sparkles. 

 What can they be ? Why, they are the eyes of moths. The 

 ivy is covered with the moths, feeding on the flowers. Look 

 how their eyes gleam." And truly it was a marvellous sight. 

 When they turned the light of their lantern on them they saw 

 that the moths were busy with a curious silent activity, flying 

 from flower to flower, sipping their sweets. 



" There are so many that I hardly know how to set about 

 catching them," said Dick. " Many of these must be rare and 

 many common." 



" Sweep the face of the ivy all over with your net as rapidly 

 as you can, and keep them in your net until we get home, and 

 then we can kill and pick out all that you want," counselled 

 Frank. 



Dick followed his advice, and with a dozen rapid sweeps of 

 his net he seemed to have filled it. Closing the net by turning 

 the gauze over the ring, they walked quickly back to the boat- 

 house, and carefully closing the door and window, they opened 

 the net and let them all out into the room, and then caught them 

 singly. In a couple of hours they found that they had secured 

 about fifty specimens, comprising twenty different species. 



During the summer a strange creature which fed on the 

 potato plants had much frightened the country people, who 

 thought it a sign of a coming plague. It was a large caterpillar, 

 of a lemon- yellow colour, with seven slanting violet stripes 

 on each side and a horn on its tail. The people in the 

 neighbourhood of Hickling, knowing that Frank and his com- 

 panions were fond of collecting such things, brought some to 

 them, and by this means they became possessed of more than 

 thirty specimens. They were the larvae of the death's-head 

 moth, the largest of all our British moths. It is remarkable not 

 only for its size, but for two other things, each of which is very 

 curious. On its thorax it has a perfect delineation in white of 

 a skull, or death's head, with a pair of cross-bones below it. In 

 addition to this singular mark, it and it alone of all our moths 

 and butterflies has the power of making a squeaking noise, 



