THE LURE OF KARTABO 19 



One night I made a special effort and, with 

 bared arm, prepared for a long vigil. In a few 

 minutes bats began to fan my face, the wings 

 almost brushing, but never quite touching my 

 skin. I could distinguish the difference between 

 the smaller and the larger, the latter having a 

 deeper swish, deeper and longer drawn-out. 

 Their voices were so high and shrill that the sing- 

 ing of the jungle crickets seemed almost con- 

 tralto in comparison. Finally, I began to feel 

 myself the focus of one or more of these winged 

 weasels. The swishes became more frequent, the 

 returnings almost doubling on their track. Now 

 and then a small body touched the sheet for an 

 instant, and then, with a soft little tap, a vam- 

 pire alighted on my chest. I was half sitting 

 up, yet I could not see him, for I had found that 

 the least hint of light ended any possibility of 

 a visit. I breathed as quietly as I could, and 

 made sure that both hands were clear. For a 

 long time there was no movement, and the re- 

 newed swishes made me suspect that the bat had 

 again taken flight. "Not until I felt a tickling 

 on my wrist did I know that my visitor had 

 shifted and, unerringly, was making for the arm 

 which I had exposed. Slowly it crept forward, 



