clear in the evening air as the water of the
pond was transparent. Small shadows moved about the edge of the
pond--deer, they were, said Ben Gile, that had come down to the edge to
drink.

"Phew, isn't it cold!" shouted the children, as they ran from one thing
to another; "and won't supper taste good!"

Jack, who hadn't on any stout boots like Jimmie's, and whose jacket was
threadbare and thin, began to think the sleeping-blankets would feel
good when it was time to crawl in. In front of the cabin blazed a big
camp-fire, and around this fire supper was served. "Did stewed apricots,
soda-biscuits, bacon, eggs, hot cakes, ever taste so good? Will they
ever taste so good again? Did hot cakes and syrup ever make the butter
fly so fast?" asked Ben Gile.

"And, speaking of the butterfly," he went on, "it's not time to turn in
yet, it's too dark to fish or explore, so let me tell you a little more
about the butterfly, and if you don't like it you can just imagine it is
a hot-cake butterfly."

The children thought this was a great joke. But Peter, who had eaten so
much he was almost asleep, didn't hear what Ben Gile said.

"Well," the old man continued, just as if he were beginning where he had
left off in the afternoon--"well, the caterpillar eats so much--it eats
almost as much as Peter does"--at this Peter opened his eyes
good-naturedly--"it eats so much that very soon it grows too big for its
skin, so the old skin splits for the growing body, and out comes young
caterpillar in a clean, new dress--a very easy way for Mrs. Butterfly to
have her babies get new clothes. Don't you think it is, Mrs. Reece?--no
hems to stitch, no buttons to sew on, no darning. The only things their
mothers ever do for them is to start them with the food they like.

"And such a butterfly this mother is that little she cares whether her
children are considered pests or not, because they eat everything green
that they like, and eat before they are invited. A long sigh of relief
the gardener or farmer draws when the caterpillars lie quiet to pupate.
They lie very, very quiet, with wings, antennae, and legs folded under
the body."

"What does pupate mean?" asked Betty, who was poking the fire and
listening hard to every word the old man spoke.

[Illustration:
_A._ Cocoon of a polyphemus moth.
_B._ Cocoon of a cecropian moth.]

"It means just that--to lie quiet and change. They do it in different
ways. Some crawl down into the ground and som