His eyes like saucers with interrogation, he turned appealingly to his uncle and said nothing.
"That was the little one--one of the two little ones," said Uncle Andy obligingly.
"But what ?--why?
--" "You see," went on Uncle Andy, hastening to explain before he could be overwhelmed, "your poor little friend was a mother bat, and she was carrying her two young ones with her, clinging to her neck with their wings, while she was busy hunting gnats and moths and protecting your nose from mosquitoes.

When the owl swooped on her, and so nearly caught her, she dodged so violently that one of the little ones was jerked from its hold.

Being too young to fly, it could do nothing but flutter to the ground and squat there, beating its wings till the mother came to look for it.

How she managed to pick it up again so neatly, I can't say.

But you saw for yourself how neat it was, eh ?" The Child nodded his head vigorously and smacked his lips in agreement.
"But why does she carry them around with her that way ?" he inquired.
"It seems to me awfully dangerous.