Atalapha, a Winged Brownie 
grew warm again, and, reassembling, took up their 
nightly northern trek. 
Bats have a strong homing instinct, and group 
after group dropped from the main route as they 
reached the first river valleys or mountains that had 
been their guides coming south. When at last the 
far green woods loomed up ahead, Atalapha felt 
the glad thrill of “Home again.” But it was not 
so to be. His guides, the flying speeders, never 
halted. He was free, of course, but another impulse 
was on him. He had no conscious expression for 
the fact, but he felt that this was a range for lady 
Bats; now he was a big strong male. 
Whither? 
This is the rule of the tribe, grown up and estab- 
lished for reasons unknown, except that it works out 
well, that certain parts of the range are the homes 
of the females, the nurseries of the young. The 
males are supposed to go to the farther mountains, 
to higher uplands, and remain till the time of the 
great annual reunion, the nuptials of the tribe. 
This is the law of the Bats. There are no stripes 
or heavy tolls assigned or penalty expressed for 
those who break it, excepting that the Bat who 
lives where he should not live is left by himself, 
shunned and despised by his kin. 
Thus the Marcy Vale had no lasting hold on 
167 
