CHAPTER XV
WHEREIN MRS. COMSTOCK FACES THE ALMIGHTY, AND PHILIP AMMON WRITES A
LETTER
Mrs. Comstock and Elnora were finishing breakfast the following morning
when they heard a cheery whistle down the road. Elnora with surprised
eyes looked at her mother.
"Could that be Mr. Ammon?" she questioned.
"I did not expect him so soon," commented Mrs. Comstock.
It was sunrise, but the musician was Philip Ammon. He appeared stronger
than on yesterday.
"I hope I am not too early," he said. "I am consumed with anxiety to
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.
Pages:
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279