"Oh, I hate caterpillars!" cried Hope.
"Fuzzy caterpillars hump so and crawl," said Betty.
"You mean woolly bears?"
"Woolly bears!" exclaimed the children.
"Yes; not Teddy bears. They have to play somehow, so they wiggle for joy, and this takes them along very fast—that is, fast for a caterpillar. Sometimes they spin a long thread by which they take a flying short cut and land—on your back."
Jimmie dropped a tiny twig down Betty's back, which made her scream.
"But they don't harm us," said Ben Gile. "They are so fussy about what they eat for dinner that they wouldn't think of biting even the sweetest little boy or girl. They prefer something far more tender. Ah, you wouldn't like Isabella!" The old man shook his head sadly.
"Isabella! Who is Isabella?" questioned the children.
"Isabella is always in a hurry," said the guide—"always. She is brown in the middle, and black on the head and tail end, Isabella is, and she walks rapidly, as if she had a great deal to do before she could take time to be made over into a tiger-moth. She stops every once in a while to make sure she is on the right road; then she hurries along in a nervous, fidgety way, looking for a nice, comfortable stone under which to have a winter home, for Isabella is in such haste that she could never think of taking time to spin a cocoon."
"But do all caterpillars turn into moths or butterflies?" asked Jack.