; but it did not, and I can only
suppose that they heard no more of it than they did of the things which
the birds and so on say to each other.

"Next, please!" said I, as I lighted a pipe; but if you will believe it,
there was no next. Lunch, the afternoon, tea, all passed by, and I was
completely undisturbed. "They must be saving up for the bat-ball," I
thought. "What in the world can it be?"

As candle-time came on, and the moon began to make herself felt, I took
up my old position at the window, with the garden squirt at hand and two
full jugs of water on the floor--plenty more to be got from the bathroom
if wanted. The leaden box of the Five Jars was in the right place for
the moonbeams to fall on it.... But no moonbeams would touch it
to-night! Why was this? There were no clouds. Yet, between the orb of
the moon and my box, there was some obstruction. High up in the sky was
a dancing film, thick enough to cast a shadow on the area of the window;
and ever, as the moon rode higher in the heavens, this obstruction
became more solid. It seemed gradually to get its bearings and settle
into the place where it would shut off the light from the box most
completely. I began to guess. It was the bat-ball; neither more nor less
than a dense cloud of bats, gradually forming itself into a solid ball,
and coming lower, and nearer to my window. Soon they were only about
thirty feet off, and I felt that the moment was come.

I have never much liked bats or desired their company, and now, as I
studied them through the glass, and saw their horrid little wicked faces
and winking wings, I felt justified in trying to make things as
unpleasant for them as I could. I charged the squirt and let fly, and
again, and again, as quick as I could fill it. The water spread a bit
before it reached the ball, but not too much to spoil the effect; and
the effect was almost alarming. Some hundreds of bats all shrieking out
at once, and shrieking with rage and fear (not merely from the
excitement of chasing flies, as they generally do). Dozens of them
dropping away, with wings too soaked to fly, some on to the grass, where
they hopped and fluttered and rolled in ecstasies of passion, some into
bushes, one or two plumb on to the path, where they lay motionless; that
was the first tableau. Then came a new feature. From both sides there
darted into the heart of the ball two squadrons of figures flying at
great speed (though without wings) and perfectl