126 THE FAIRY-FOLK OF THE BLUE HILL.

She has destroyed too many of our tribe for
that.”

With a sigh of despair, on went the good
little beetle, until he met a large firefly skim-
ming lightly along.

“Good firefly, wilt thou not lend me thy
light to find the spirit of the dell? I seek
her aid to free a poor little maid who is fast in
yon cranberry bog.”

“ What may be the name of the little maid?”
asked the firefly, stopping for an instant.

“She is called Wassa,” replied the brown
beetle.

“Not I!” replied the firefly. “ Wassa has
chased me too many times for that; and too
many of our tribe have been captured by her.
If it were the hunter’s little maid I would will-
ingly go with thee.”

“Shall I ever reach the spirit of the dell ?”
murmured the good little beetle as the firefly
soared high into the air. “None will help
Me

At last the beetle bethought himself of the
moon.

“ Dear, good moon,” pleaded the patient little
beetle, “ wilt thou not light me on my way to