The Further Adventures Of Gobbolino And The Little Wooden Horse

7 THE BATTLE OF THE BATS

The awful realization struck the little wooden horse like a thunderclap. He stood up trembling on his little wooden legs.

It was not Gobbolino he was worrying about. It was not himself. What had brought the bats back out of the mountain caves he could not tell. Gobbolino had been responsible for their going there, but the agonizing thought in his own mind was the memory of the assembled congregation they had left behind them, all rejoicing in answer to their pastor’s prayers, the sparkling clean church, the shining bells, and above all, the silence that he and Gobbolino had assured the priest would last for ever. Was it to be shattered so soon? Nobody would ever trust the priest’s word again.

He hurried after Gobbolino, catching him just as the little cat stopped, and, raising himself on his hind legs, suddenly became aware of the advancing cloud of bats.

There were hundreds of them… no, not hundreds, but thousands! And they darkened the land beneath them as they flew southwards, uttering their shrill and indignant cries.

There was no doubt at all that they were angry.

At first it looked as if they would be passing to the right of the two friends, but at the last moment they caught sight of them, and the great cloud wheeled and dived on them, their cries even shriller as they screamed aloud:

"They're here? After them! Revenge! Revenge!"

The little wooden horse had arrived at Gobbolino's side. Both instinctively ducked their heads against the bats attack, and the next minute they were in the centre of a whirling mass of raking claws, flashing teeth, and buffeting wings.

True enough, these made less impression on the wooden flanks of the little wooden horse than they did on Gobbolino, but on the other hand the cat was better equipped to fight back with all four feet, and claws outstretched. He too bit and scratched and hooked and tore, till the earth around him was strewn with wounded bats, but still they dived down row after row, and still Gobbolino bit and fought and the little wooden horse battered.

There were hundreds of them… no… thousands!

When there came the briefest pause in the fighting the little wooden horse jumped on to his hind legs and shouted at the top of his voice:

"Stop! Wait! Listen! Do us the honour, gentlemen, of telling us what we are fighting about! Why are you revenging yourselves on us, and what have we done to make you so angry?"

"Promises! Promises!" hissed the bats, stopping their attack for a moment. "Empty promises! Deceit! Lies! False expectations! Empty, broken promises to get us out of our proper homes!"

"But didn't you find better homes in the caves?" asked Gobbolino in great surprise.

"Better, yes! Homes, no!" hissed the bats. "Cave after cave we tried, and all in vain! No sooner had we found a home for our families than we were driven out again! Over and over and over again! There wasn’t one cave in the whole of the mountains where we were allowed to stay and make a home!"

"But who drove you out? Who didn’t let you stay?" asked Gobbolino.

"That wicked, ugly witch’s cat!" chanted all the bats. "The moment we were settled in, all nice and warm and comfortable, along she came and chased us out again! We complained to the witch, her mistress, but she only laughed! The selfishness of it!" shrieked the bats. "Hundreds of empty caves! All perfect family homes for the asking, and no hope of getting even one for ourselves! You knew it when you sent us there! You did! You did! It was just a trick to get rid of us out of the church! And now we will have to go all the way back again, and nobody wants to have to sleep in the bell tower now we have seen those beautiful caves!"

But Gobbolino had no sympathy to spare for their troubles.

"What was the witch’s cat like?" he asked eagerly. "Did you notice her at all?"

"As if we could help it!" said the bats scornfully. "She followed us everywhere! She was a fluffy black thing. She was rather like you!" they said rudely pointing their wings at Gobbolino. "Only her eyes were green, not blue, her fur was black, not tabby, and she had no white paw."

"It must be my sister Sootica!" Gobbolino said to himself. "Did you give her my message?" he asked the bats.

They were silent. At last one of them piped up:

"I’m sorry! I quite forgot!"

Gobbolino was bitterly disappointed.

"Tell me how she looked!" he pleaded. "Was she sad? Or did she look happy? Did she seem ill-used, did you notice?"

"Happy? Sad? How could we tell?" said the bats. "She was too busy chasing us to be sad or happy while we were there. She did say that her mistress the witch would beat her if she didn’t get rid of us, because we interfered with her spells. All those beautiful caves! How could she need them all for her spells?"

The bats seemed to have lost their spirit for fighting. They began to close their ranks, ready to fly southwards again. The wounded ones picked themselves up and found they were not so badly hurt as they had imagined.

"Wait! Please wait!" Gobbolino begged them. "You can’t go back into the church until the people are gone, and they are all there saying their prayers and being thankful that the church is clean and tidy and not haunted any more."

"Just let them wait till tonight!" jeered the bats. "Well give those bells such a clanging, we'll have everyone in the parish out of their beds with their hair standing on end!"

"Will you wait for just one more day?" pleaded the little wooden horse. "My friend Gobbolino here received a message from his sister Sootica in the witch’s cave. She said she needed his help, and asked him to come to her."

"So you are a witch’s cat too!" screamed the bats, preparing to fly at Gobbolino.

"Stop! Stop! Listen to me!" cried the little wooden horse. "Gobbolino is not a witch’s cat! He was badly used by the witch of the Hurricane Mountains, and she turned him into a common cat for ever and ever, but you can’t blame a brother for going to the help of his sister. What would you do yourselves? What we do not know is why she needs him. And now it strikes me that we might well be able to bargain with Sootica for the caves, in return for whatever favour it is that she wants from Gobbolino. Wouldn’t that be a better idea than going back to the church?"

The bats immediately became calmer, and agreed that this might be better than going back to the draughty belfry to sleep among the clanging bells.

"It means, of course, that you would have to come back with us to the mountains," said the little wooden horse, "and while we make our way up to the witch’s cave you will have to arrange yourselves as best you can to pass the night in the rabbit burrows at the foot of the mountain. We shall do our best to arrange things to your best advantage, and you will have to play your part, as I have just said. I am sure it will all turn out for the best, for all of us."

The faith and confidence of the little wooden horse put new heart into Gobbolino as well as the bats, who agreed to go back to the mountains with the two friends.

"It is quite a long way," they said, as they arranged their ranks. "Wouldn’t you prefer to ride with us?"

The little wooden horse and Gobbolino were only too glad to accept their offer, and watched with interest while a number of bats formed two circles by hooking themselves wing-tip to wing-tip, while others spread their wings within the circles and hooked themselves on to the sides. The result was a couple of flying hammocks, and in these Gobbolino and the little wooden horse deposited themselves very comfortably.

They flew off, leaving the plain far below them. Even the church tower was lost in the clouds, while the Hurricane Mountains loomed nearer and nearer.

Long ago Gobbolino had flown away from these same mountains behind his sister Sootica, on her broomstick, but on that occasion he had his back turned to the crags, and had not noticed how steep and savage they were. Now, the closer they approached the more fearsome they seemed, and he shivered at the thought of scaling them to find his sister and her mistress in the cavern. Sootica’s message had been such a heartfelt cry, but her treatment of the bats was more like the normal practice of a witch’s cat — it did not sound like the behaviour of a creature in distress. He became terribly worried, not only on his own account, but because he might be leading his friend, the little wooden horse, into danger.

The great cloud of bats wheeled round the base of the mountains, flying in circles lower and lower, until it deposited them both on the grass. There were sandy banks here, and these were riddled with rabbits’ burrows.

The bats were rather dissatisfied with these, but they agreed to spend one night only in the holes, while Gobbolino and the little wooden horse did what they could to get possession of the caves for them.

The little wooden horse refused to go home until this was done. He had a growing feeling that Gobbolino would need all the help he could find in the next part of his adventure, and he did not mean to abandon his friend until it seemed quite safe to do so.