Atalapha, a Winged Brownie 
again he was back to the home den and his maiden 
flight was over. It was three days before Little 
Brother would take his flight. And many a scold- 
ing his mother gave him before he could be per- 
suaded that he really had wings to bear him aloft, 
if only he would try to use them. 
From this time on the twins’ real life began. 
Twice nightly they went flying with Mother to the 
long wet valley through the timber, and though 
at first they wearied before they had covered thrice 
the length of the Beaver ponds, their strength grew 
quickly, and the late Thunder Moon saw them 
nearly full grown, strong on the wing, and rejoicing 
in the power of flight. Oh! what a joy it was, 
when the last streak of light was gone from the 
western world rim, to scramble to the hole and 
launch into the air—one, two, three—Mother, 
Brother, and Little Brother to go kiting, scooting, 
circling, sailing, diving, and soaring—with flutter, 
wheel, and downward plunge. Then sharp with 
hunger they would dart for the big abounding 
game—great fat luna moths, roaring June-bugs, 
luscious cecropias, and a thousand smaller game 
were whizzing and flitting on every side, a plenteous 
feast for those with wings of speed. One or two 
small moths they seized and gobbled in mid-air. 
Then a fat June-bug came booming by and away 
150 
