If ever there was a
likely place for specimens it was here; Raymond was an expert
at locating them, and fearless to foolhardiness. He had been gone
only a short time when I heard a cry, and I knew it must mean
something, in his opinion, of more importance than blackbirds.
I answered "Coming," and hastily winding the long hose, I started
in the direction Raymond had taken, calling occasionally to make
sure I was going the right way. When I found him, the boy was
standing beside a stout weed, hat in hand, intently watching
something. As I leaned forward I saw that it was a Hyperchiria Io
that just had emerged from the cocoon, and as yet was resting with
wings untried. It differed so widely from my moth of a few days
before, I knew it must be a male.
This was only three-fourths as large as mine, but infinitely
surpassed it in beauty. Its front wings were orange-yellow, flushed
with red-purple at the base, and had a small irregular brown spot
near the costa. Contrary to all precedent, the under side of
these wings were the most beautiful, and bore the decorations that,
in all previous experience with moths, had been on the upper surface,
faintly showing on the under.
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