A BUTTERFLY CHASE 



before seemed to catch on the roughest 

 part of the old fence post, and with a 

 sudden scrape the Basilarchia scraped 

 it off. I looked in amaze, for now I 

 saw what it was. From the honey 

 heart of some flower a little red worm 

 had become attached to the tip of the 

 butterfly's proboscis, and all this licking 

 of rough surfaces had been merely to 

 get rid of him. 



Up into the bright sunshine danced 

 my black white admiral. There was the 

 swish of wings, the snip-snip of a bird's 

 beak, and it was all over. The cry of 

 the great crested flycatcher had been a 

 prophecy indeed, and the white admiral 

 had danced blithely out of existence. 



But the equatorial haze had more 

 tropical enchantment in store, for the 

 midday sun was suddenly wiped out by 

 an ominous figure. Some one had un- 



