Mrs. Comstock laid down the bag and pulled one of the lanterns lower.

“I won’t budge a step,” she said.  “This land doesn’t belong to you.  You have no right to order me off it.  Here I stay until I get a Yellow Emperor, and no little petering thieves of this neighbourhood can scare me away.”

“You don’t understand,” said Pete.  “I’m willing to help Elnora, and I’d take care of you, if I could, but there will be too many for me, and they will be mad at being called out for nothing.”

“Well, who’s calling them out?” demanded Mrs. Comstock.  “I’m catching moths.  If a lot of good-for-nothings get fooled into losing some sleep, why let them, they can’t hurt me, or stop my work.”

“They can, and they’ll do both.”

“Well, I’ll see them do it!” said Mrs. Comstock.  “I’ve got Robert’s revolver in my dress, and I can shoot as straight as any man, if I’m mad enough.  Any one who interferes with me to-night will find me mad a-plenty.  There goes another!”

She stepped into the light and waited until a big brown moth settled on her and was easily taken.  Then in light, airy flight came a delicate pale green thing, and Mrs. Comstock started in pursuit.  But the scent was not right.  The moth fluttered high, then dropped lower, still lower, and sailed away.  With outstretched hands Mrs. Comstock pursued it.  She hurried one way and another, then ran over an object which tripped her and she fell.  She regained her feet in an instant, but she had lost sight of the moth.  With livid face she turned to the crouching man.

“You nasty, sneaking son of Satan!” she cried.  “Why are you hiding there?  You made me lose the one I wanted most of any I’ve had a chance at yet.  Get out of here!  Go this minute, or I’ll fill your worthless carcass so full of holes you’ll do to sift cornmeal.  Go, I say!  I’m using the Limberlost to-night, and I won’t be stopped by the devil himself!  Cut like fury, and tell the rest of them they can just go home.  Pete is going to help me, and he is all of you I need.  Now go!”

The man turned and went.  Pete leaned against a tree, held his mouth shut and shook inwardly.  Mrs. Comstock came back panting.

“The old scoundrel made me lose that!” she said.  “If any one else comes snooping around here I’ll just blow them up to start with.  I haven’t time to talk.  Suppose that had been yellow!  I’d have killed that man, sure!  The Limberlost isn’t safe to-night, and the sooner those whelps find it out, the better it will be for them.”

Pete stopped laughing to look at her.  He saw that she was speaking the truth.  She was quite past reason, sense, or fear.  The soft night air stirred the wet hair around her temples, the flickering lanterns made her face a ghastly green.  She would stop at nothing, that was evident.  Pete suddenly began catching moths with exemplary industry.  In putting one into the bag, another escaped.

“We must not try that again,” said Mrs. Comstock.  “Now, what will we do?”