“We are close to the old case,” said Pete.  “I think I can get into it.  Maybe we could slip the rest in there.”

“That’s a fine idea!” said Mrs. Comstock.  “They’ll have so much room there they won’t be likely to hurt themselves, and the books say they don’t fly in daytime unless they are disturbed, so they will settle when it’s light, and I can come with Elnora to get them.”

They captured two more, and then Pete carried them to the case.

“Here comes a big one!” he cried as he returned.

Mrs. Comstock looked up and stepped out with a prayer on her lips.  She could not tell the colour at that distance, but the moth appeared different from the others.  On it came, dropping lower and darting from light to light.  As it swept near her, “O Heavenly Father!” exulted Mrs. Comstock, “it’s yellow!  Careful Pete!  Your hat, maybe!”

Pete made a long sweep.  The moth wavered above the hat and sailed away.  Mrs. Comstock leaned against a tree and covered her face with her shaking hands.

“That is my punishment!” she cried.  “Oh, Lord, if you will give a moth like that into my possession, I’ll always be a better woman!”

The Emperor again came in sight.  Pete stood tense and ready.  Mrs. Comstock stepped into the light and watched the moth’s course.  Then a second appeared in pursuit of the first.  The larger one wavered into the radius of light once more.  The perspiration rolled down the man’s face.  He half lifted the hat.

“Pray, woman!  Pray now!” he panted.

“I guess I best get over by that lard oil light and go to work,” breathed Mrs. Comstock.  “The Lord knows this is all in prayer, but it’s no time for words just now.  Ready, Pete!  You are going to get a chance first!”

Pete made another long, steady sweep, but the moth darted beneath the hat.  In its flight it came straight toward Mrs. Comstock.  She snatched off the remnant of apron she had tucked into her petticoat band and held the calico before her.  The moth struck full against it and clung to the goods.  Pete crept up stealthily.  The second moth followed the first, and the spray showered the apron.

“Wait!” gasped Mrs. Comstock.  “I think they have settled.  The books say they won’t leave now.”

The big pale yellow creature clung firmly, lowering and raising its wings.  The other came nearer.  Mrs. Comstock held the cloth with rigid hands, while Pete could hear her breathing in short gusts.

“Shall I try now?” he implored.

“Wait!” whispered the woman.  “Something seems to say wait!”

The night breeze stiffened and gently waved the apron.  Locusts rasped, mosquitoes hummed and frogs sang uninterruptedly.  A musky odour slowly filled the air.

“Now shall I?” questioned Pete.

“No.  Leave them alone.  They are safe now.  They are mine.  They are my salvation.  God and the Limberlost gave them to me!  They won’t move for hours.  The books all say so.  O Heavenly Father, I am thankful to You, and you, too, Pete Corson!  You are a good man to help me.  Now, I can go home and face my girl.”