fall into the clutches of a frog. "Are there many frogs in the lake?" she asked and drew to the very middle of the leaf so as not to be seen from the water.

The blue-bottle laughed. "You are giving yourself unnecessary trouble," he jeered. "The frog can see you from below when the sun shines, because then the leaf is transparent. He sees you sitting on my leaf, perfectly."

Beset by the awful idea that maybe a big frog was squatting right under her leaf staring at her with his bulging hungry eyes, Maya was about to fly off when something dreadful happened, something for which she was totally unprepared. In the confusion of the first moment she could not make out just exactly what _was_ happening. She only heard a loud rustling like the wind in dry leaves, then a singing whistle, a loud angry hunter's cry. And a fine, transparent shadow glided over her leaf. Now she saw—saw fully, and her heart stood still in terror. A great, glittering dragon-fly had caught hold of poor Jack Christopher and held him tight in its large, fangs, sharp as a knife. The blade of the rush bent low beneath their weight. Maya could see them hovering above her and also mirrored in the clear water below. Jack's screams tore her heart. Without thinking, she cried: "Let the blue-bottle go, at once, whoever you are. You have no right to interfere with people's habits. You have no right to be so arbitrary."

The dragon-fly released Jack from its fangs, but still held him fast with its arms, and turned its head toward Maya. She was fearfully frightened by its large, grave eyes and vicious pincers, but the glittering of its body and wings fascinated her. They flashed like glass and water and precious stones. The horrifying thing was its huge size. How could she have been so bold? She was all a-tremble. "Why, what's the matter, child?" The dragon-fly's tone, surprisingly, was quite friendly.

"Let him go," cried Maya, and tears came into her eyes. "His name is Jack Christopher."

The dragon-fly smiled. "Why, little one?" it said, putting on an interested air, though most condescending.

Maya stammered helplessly: "Oh, he's such a nice, elegant gentleman, and he's never done you any harm so far as I know."

The dragon-fly regarded Jack Christopher contemplatively. "Yes, he _is_ a dear little fellow," it replied tenderly and—bit Jack's head off.

Maya thought she was losing her senses. For a long time she 

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