“Yes,” said the Doctor, “that’s probably so.”

“Very well.  It is fair to suppose then that the beetle’s home, or his hole, is in that place—­the part of the mountain where Long Arrow and his party are imprisoned, isn’t it?”

“Quite, quite.”

“All right.  Then the thing to do is to let the beetle go—­and watch him; and sooner or later he’ll return to his home in Long Arrow’s cave.  And there we will follow him—­Or at all events,” she added smoothing down her wing-feathers with a very superior air, “we will follow him till the miserable bug starts nosing under the earth.  But at least he will show us what part of the mountain Long Arrow is hidden in.”

“But he may fly, if I let him out,” said the Doctor.  “Then we shall just lose him and be no better off than we were before.”

“Let him fly,” snorted Polynesia scornfully.  “A parrot can wing it as fast as a Biz-biz, I fancy.  If he takes to the air, I’ll guarantee not to let the little devil out of my sight.  And if he just crawls along the ground you can follow him yourself.”

“Splendid!” cried the Doctor.  “Polynesia, you have a great brain.  I’ll set him to work at once and see what happens.”

Again we all clustered round the Doctor as he carefully lifted off the glass lid and let the big beetle climb out upon his finger.

“Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home!” crooned Bumpo.  “Your house is on fire and your chil—­”

“Oh, be quiet!” snapped Polynesia crossly.  “Stop insulting him!  Don’t you suppose he has wits enough to go home without your telling him?”

“I thought perchance he might be of a philandering disposition,” said Bumpo humbly.  “It could be that he is tired of his home and needs to be encouraged.  Shall I sing him ‘Home Sweet Home,’ think you?”

“No.  Then he’d never go back.  Your voice needs a rest.  Don’t sing to him:  just watch him—­Oh, and Doctor, why not tie another message to the creature’s leg, telling Long Arrow that we’re doing our best to reach him and that he mustn’t give up hope?”

“I will,” said the Doctor.  And in a minute he had pulled a dry leaf from a bush near by and was covering it with little pictures in pencil.

At last, neatly fixed up with his new mail-bag, Mr. Jabizri crawled off the Doctor’s finger to the ground and looked about him.  He stretched his legs, polished his nose with his front feet and then moved off leisurely to the westward.

We had expected him to walk up the mountain; instead, he walked around it.  Do you know how long it takes a beetle to walk round a mountain?  Well, I assure you it takes an unbelievably long time.  As the hours dragged by, we hoped and hoped that he would get up and fly the rest, and let Polynesia carry on the work of following him.  But he never opened his wings once.  I had not realized before how hard it is for a human being to walk slowly enough