“We’ll have to take that in,” declared Jerry.
“Here’s the place,” announced the scientist, as they passed along a road, on either side of which was a patch of woodland. “Here is where I hope to find one of the freak _Vanessa antiopa_.”
“We’ll come with you and help look for it, but you’ll have to tell us what to look for,” suggested Jerry.
“Well, call to me whenever you see any kind of butterfly,” the professor said, “and I can tell if it is one that I want.”
Leaving the automobile at the edge of the road, they went into the swamp, though, as Professor Snodgrass had said, it was not at all wet. They scattered, yet keeping within sight of one another, and then began the search for the butterfly.
At first none was seen, though the professor managed to get a green bug which he designated by some long Latin name, and said it was a great find.
Then Bob, who had gone deeper into the woods than the others, suddenly called:
“Here you are! Here, Professor! Here’s a butterfly with big yellow bands on its wings!”
“Watch him! Don’t let him get away! I’ll be there in a minute!” eagerly cried the little scientist.
“Shall I catch him under my hat?” asked Bob.
“No! Oh no! Never do that! You would crush the wings. I must get him in the net. I’m coming!”
Professor Snodgrass ran toward Bob, who stood near a bush, intently gazing at some object on it. With his long-handled net the professor raced forward. And then something happened.
His foot slipped, the handle of the net caught on a tree branch, and then went between his legs. The result may be imagined. The professor fell down full length, and there was a cracking sound when the handle of the net broke.
Ned and Jerry rushed forward to pick up the unfortunate little scientist, and Bob also turned away from the bush to lend his aid. But Professor Snodgrass saw Bob’s action, and raising himself to his knees, he cried:
“Don’t move, Bob! Don’t stir! Don’t take your eyes off that butterfly. It’s just what I’ve been seeking for many years. Watch him! I’m not hurt. I can get up myself.”
This he did, springing to his feet with the nimbleness of a boy, and without any aid from Ned or Jerry.
“That’s nothing!” cried Professor Snodgrass eagerly, as he again ran forward. “It’s only the handle, and I can fit a new one on. It is long enough as it is now. Is the Camberwell beauty there yet, Bob?”