The other boys ran breathlessly up, while Mr Inglis drew from his pocket a large-sized pill-box and a pair of forceps, and on coming up to the spot where Philip and the other boys were, he stooped down to secure the prize.
“Well, where is it?” said Mr Inglis.
“Just underneath,” said Philip.
“I don’t think it is,” said Mr Inglis, looking down at the net.
“Oh yes, it is,” said Philip; “I’m sure I caught it.”
So Mr Inglis looked through the net in all directions, but not a sign could he see of any sulphur butterfly, for Philip had popped the net down just behind it, and the bright-coloured fly was off and away far enough by that time.
“Never mind; try again,” said Mr Inglis, “only don’t be so impetuous; go quietly after the butterfly till you get within reach, and then press the net down firmly and quickly, or close it over the prize. If you go so impetuously you agitate the air, and drive a volume of it before you, which not only alarms the insect, but helps to force it out of your reach.”
“But I was sure I had it,” said Philip.
“Just so,” said Mr Inglis, smiling; “but it does not do to be too sure of anything. Now, Philip,” he continued, “take the net again, and see if you cannot have a little better success; there’s one of the little blue butterflies hovering over that dry bank—there, where we picked the harebells last year. Don’t you see it?—it almost looks like a harebell itself.”
“Oh! I see it now,” said Philip, seizing the net and rushing off.