Would he come? I held my breath, I strained my sight and
hearing in vain, the hope and fear of his appearance gradually died
out, and I left the place bitterly disappointed and walked to a spot
about fifty yards away, where mulberry trees grew on the slope of the
mound inside the moat.
Looking up into the masses of big clustering leaves over my head I
spied a bat hanging suspended from a twig. The bats, I must explain,
in that part of the world, that illimitable plain where there were no
caverns and old buildings and other dark places to hide in by day, are
not so intolerant of the bright light as in other lands. They do not
come forth until evening, but by day they are content to hitch
themselves to the twig of a tree under a thick cluster of leaves and
rest there until it is dark.
Gazing up at this bat suspended under a big green leaf, wrapped in his
black and buff-coloured wings as in a mantle, I forgot my
disappointment, forgot the serpent, and was so entirely taken up with
the bat that I paid no attention to a sensation like a pressure or a
dull pain on the instep of my right foot.
