A TREE-TOP AERONAUT 173 



remote enough from the hollow tree, but at 

 its first note the game of the furry aeroplanists 

 came to a stop. One would have said that 

 there were no such things as flying-squirrels in 

 the Quah-Davic woods. 



After some fifteen or twenty minutes of 

 sepulchral summons and answer, the calling 

 of the owls ceased. In perhaps fifteen min- 

 utes more, the flying-squirrels seemed to make 

 up their minds that the danger had removed 

 to some other part of the forest. Then, 

 at first timorously, but soon with all their 

 former merriment and zest, the tree- top 

 aeronauts resumed their game. 



The game was at its height. Down a 

 long aisle of the forest the high moon poured 

 a flood of unobstructed light. Athwart 

 this lane of brilliance the flying-squirrels 

 went passing and repassing. On a sudden, 

 as one of them was sailing gaily across, it 

 was as if a fragment of black cloud fell upon 

 him noiselessly out of the whiteness, blotting 

 him out. Somewhere in the cloud burned 

 two terrible round eyes, and beneath it 

 reached forth two sets of rending talons. 

 The life of the gay little glider was clutched 

 out of him with a strangled scream, and 

 the cloudy shape, its eyes blazing coldly, 

 drifted away into the shadows with its prey. 



