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Updated: May 4, 2025
For the last time, next morning he rode down to Flitter Bill's store. On the way he met Parson Kilburn and for the last time Mayhall Wells straightened his shoulders and for one moment more resumed his part: perhaps the parson had not heard of his fall. "Good-mornin', parsing," he said, pleasantly. "Ah where have you been?"
She laughed, a curiously flat little sound. "Was everybody crazy in your day?" she asked. And then, "Reed " It was the first time she had used his given name. "What?" "When they threw the stones, and we got back into the flitter, you pushed me ahead of you. You were guarding me. Why?" He stared at her, or rather at the pale blur of her standing close to him.
The officer was now urging him to go some place, and Raf, his dislike for being in the heart of the strangers' territory once more aroused, was about to shake his head in a firm negative when a second idea stopped him. He had resisted separation from the flitter. Perhaps he could persuade the alien, under the excuse of inspecting a strange machine, to take him back to the flyer.
To the pilot's uninformed eyes the city looked wholly dead. "Got it!" Soriki's exultant cry brought them back to the flitter. As if his body was the indicator, he had pivoted until his outstretched hand pointed southwest. "About a quarter of a mile that way." They shielded their eyes against the westering sun.
It only says that the young man lives in the city. But why didn't you tell me about it, Dan?" "Thought it wasn't worth while," replied the boy. "But I don't see how they know about it down there to put it in the paper." "How did it happen, son. Let's have the whole story." Mr. Flitter pulled off his boots, lighted his pipe afresh, and leaned back to listen.
Technically, thereafter, the general was purveyor for the Army of the Callahan, but to the captain himself he was gallingly to the purveyor simple Flitter Bill.
At the foot of the third the officer turned abruptly to the left, beckoning Raf along. When the Terran remained stubbornly where he was, pointing in the direction which, to him, meant return to the flitter, the other made gestures describing an aircraft in flight. His own probably. Raf sighed. He could see no way out unless he cut and ran.
Nothing came to break a silence so intense that at last our ears, craving for sound, magnified the soft flitter of the bats into a noise as of eagle's wings, till at last we spoke in whispers, because the full voice of man seemed to affront the solemn quietude, seemed intolerable to our nerves. Yet for the first day or two we found occupation of a sort.
It did not, however, prevent his eating his share of the picnic dainties as he sat with his mother and Ellen on the veranda. Then as the soft flitter of the bats' wings began in the dusk, he kissed them both and went early up to bed. Peter's room was close under the roof and that was close under the elm boughs; all hours he could hear them finger it with soft rustling touches.
Most Bats have but two babies at a time, occasionally only one, but the Red Bat and his larger cousin, the Hoary Bat, have three or four. Mrs. Flitter carries her babies about with her until they are quite big. When they are too large to be carried she leaves them hanging in a tree while she hunts for her meals. "Flitter has many cousins.
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