8o THE BROOK BOOK 



rowed by the very friend whose May-fly had be- 

 haved so well an hour before. As we danced 

 along over the waves I kept one eye on the blue 

 water and one on the still slothful insect. 



Then the change came. The wings trembled 

 against my hand. The whole body shook as with 

 an ague. The few segments of the abdomen rose 

 and fell, stretching the thin coat that covered 

 them so that it had to burst somewhere. It split 

 right in the middle of the back between the 

 wings. Wider and wider this opening grew, the 

 action of the muscles seeming to crowd the thorax 

 up through the break. The wings had been 

 spread out longitudinally up to this time, perhaps 

 acting with the legs as braces. When the body 

 was fairly free, the wings suddenly folded back 

 against the sides fan-wise and were slowly drawn 

 out of their cases. The trembling and straining 

 had evidently loosened the whole covering, and it 

 was a mere matter of pulling to get out of it. If 

 the skin itself had not held together I don't know 

 what would have happened. 



In the meantime the head of the May-fly had 

 been lowered, and so far as I could see no cover- 

 ing had come off of it. Neither could I discover 

 that the forward part of the thorax shed any skin. 

 After the wings are out, the head slowly rises 

 and the stretching and pulling begins to get the 

 six legs out. If the claws have a firm anchor this 

 is comparatively easy. The claws of the skin are 

 shed with it. Imagine yourself attaching the ends 

 of your glove fingers to something and drawing 



