"
"Oh, I see!" murmured the Child politely--which, of course, meant that
he did not see at all what Uncle Andy was driving at. "_Why_ do bats
get themselves misunderstood, Uncle Andy?"
His uncle eyed him narrowly. He was always suspecting the Child of
making game of him--than which nothing could be further from the
Child's honest and rather matter-of-fact intentions. The question, to
be sure, was rather a poser. While he pondered a reply to
it--apparently absorbed in the task of relighting his pipe--the Child's
attention was diverted. And forever the question of why bats get
themselves misunderstood remained unanswered.
The bat chanced at the moment to be zig-zagging only a dozen feet or so
away, when from the empty air above, as if created on the instant out
of nothingness, dropped a noiseless, shadowy shape of wings. It seemed
to catch the eccentric little flutterer fairly. But it didn't--for the
bat was a marvelous adept at dodging. With a lightning swerve it
emerged from under the great wings and darted behind Uncle Andy's head.
The baffled owl, not daring to come so near the hated man-creatures,
winnowed off in ghostly silence.
At the same moment a tiny, quivering thing, like a dark leaf, floated
to the ground.
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