Atalapha, a Winged Brownie 
young were learning to eat solid food, and when their 
mother came home after the evening hunt, they 
would meet her at the door with a soft chirring of 
welcome, spring on the food she brought, and tussel 
with each other for the pieces. 
Two meals a day, or rather each night, is a rule 
of the Bat life—one in the evening twilight, and 
again in the morning twilight. And twice each day 
the mother stuffed them with food, so they grew 
and grew. The difference of their dispositions 
was well marked now. The lesser brother was 
petulant and a little quarrelsome. He always 
wanted the June-bug that had not been given him, 
and paid little heed to the warning “‘chirr” that his 
mother sometimes gave to stop him scrambling 
after his brother’s portion. But the bigger brother 
was not easily provoked; he sought for peace. 
What wonder that the mother found it pleasanter 
to stroke and lick the big one’s fur than to be chit- 
tered at by the little one. 
June went by, July the Thunder Moon was half 
gone, when a great event took place. The young 
had been growing with wonderful rapidity. Though 
far from being as heavy as the mother yet, they 
were nearly as long and had a wing stretch that 
was fully three-quarters of hers. During the last 
few days they had dared to sit on their home 
148 
