A JUNGLE LABOR-UNION 151 



became very vivid and near. Suddenly, without 

 warning, there flapped into my field, a huge 

 shapeless creature. It was no bird, and there 

 was nothing of the bat in its flight the wings 

 moved with steady rhythmical beats, and drove 

 it straight onward. The wings were skinny, the 

 body large and of a pale ashy hue. For a mo- 

 ment I was shaken. One of the others had seen 

 it, and he, too, did not speak, but concentrated 

 every sense into the end of the little tubes. By 

 the time I had begun to find words, I realized 

 that a giant fruit bat had flown from utter dark- 

 ness across my line of sight; and by close watch- 

 ing we soon saw others. But for a very few sec- 

 onds these Pterodactyl Pups, as I nicknamed 

 them, gave me all the thrill of a sudden glimpse 

 into the life of past ages. The last time I had 

 seen fruit bats was in the gardens of Perideniya, 

 Ceylon. I had forgotten that they occurred in 

 Guiana, and was wholly unprepared for the sight 

 of bats a yard across, with a heron's flight, pass- 

 ing high over the Mazaruni in the moonlight. 



The talk ended on the misfortune of the con- 

 figuration of human anatomy, which makes sky- 

 searching so uncomfortable a habit. This out- 

 look was probably developed to a greater extent 



