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Updated: May 2, 2025
You must be a brave girl, and " "A girl!" shouted Photogen, and started to his feet in wrath. "If you were a man, I should kill you." "A man?" repeated Nycteris: "what is that? How could I be that? We are both girls are we not?"
But the arrow was in the brute's chest, up to the feather; it tumbled heels over head with a great thud of its back on the earth, gave a groan, made a struggle or two, and lay stretched out motionless. "I've killed it, Nycteris," cried Photogen. "It is a great red wolf." "Oh, thank you!" answered Nycteris feebly from behind the tree. "I was sure you would. I was not a bit afraid."
The skin of the Nycteris Geoffroyi is very loose upon the body; and the animal draws air through openings in the cheek pouches, head, and back, and swells itself into a little balloon; the openings being closed at pleasure by means of valves. The bite of all is extremely sharp; and we seldom hear of an instance of one being tamed.
But Falca could not get into the habit of sleeping through the day, and would often leave her alone half the night. Then it seemed to Nycteris that the white lamp was watching over her. As it was never permitted to go out while she was awake at least Nycteris, except by shutting her eyes, knew less about darkness than she did about light.
"No none at present. I will look," replied Nycteris, and sprang to her feet. "Oh, oh! do not leave me not for a moment," cried Photogen, straining his eyes to keep her face in sight through the darkness. "Be quiet, or they will hear you," she returned. "The wind is from the south, and they cannot scent us. I have found out all about that.
Photogen listened respectfully, but, knowing neither the taste of fear nor the temptation of the night, her words were but sounds to him. The little education she intended Nycteris to have, Watho gave her by word of mouth. Not meaning she should have light enough to read by, to leave other reasons unmentioned, she never put a book in her hands.
She could not in the least have told what was in her mind, but the action was in reality just a begging of the moon to be what she was that precise incredible splendour hung in the far-off roof, that very glory essential to the being of poor girls born and bred in caverns. It was a resurrection nay, a birth itself, to Nycteris.
What was darkness or the laziness of Time's feet to one who had seen what she had that night seen? She was lifted above all weariness above all wrong. When Falca entered, she uttered a cry of terror. But Nycteris called to her not to be afraid, and told her how there had come a rumbling and a shaking, and the lamp had fallen.
"I would not have behaved as I did last time if I had understood; but I thought you were mocking me; and I am so made that I cannot help being frightened at the darkness. I beg your pardon for leaving you as I did, for, as I say, I did not understand. Now I believe you were really frightened. Were you not?" "I was, indeed," answered Nycteris, "and shall be again.
He yielded and rose, and she led him away. But his steps were feeble, and as the night went on, he seemed more and more ready to sink. "Oh dear! I am so tired! and so frightened!" he would say. "Lean on me," Nycteris would return, putting her arm round him, or patting his cheek. "Take a few steps more. Every step away from the castle is clear gain. Lean harder on me.
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