a sort of watery mucus in the mouth. If he ever got this bat to a laboratory he would have that secretion analysed to see if it contained any narcotic agent that puts the flesh to sleep, or anything that prevents blood from clotting.
He looked at his arm. The blood was still running from the hole. His father staunched it by tying a handkerchief tightly around it.
That was what often caused death, especially to small animals — not the bite of the vampire, but the continued flow of blood after the bat had finished feeding. Blood ordinarily clots in a short time. Did the saliva of the bat contain a chemical that prevented clotting?
That was something to find out.
The bat beat its wings, but the net was strong. While no stories could have overstated the ugliness of this creature, its size had been exaggerated. It had been confused with the great fruit bat which may measure two or three feet between wing tips. The span of this bat was only twelve inches and its body was about four inches long.
‘Little, but oh my!’ came from Roger.
If they could ever get this thing home, how many thousands of people would look at it with the same wonder and awe with which they were gazing at it now! Here was a creature barely known to science — at least the Hunts did not know of a zoo or animal collection in the world that now possessed a specimen. But could they get it back alive?’
Hal had a distressing thought.
‘How are we going to feed it?’
1 was wondering about that myself,’ his father admitted. It has to have about half a cup of fresh blood every day.’
They looked at each other, puzzled. Then Hal turned his gaze upon Roger.
‘Not me!’ cried Roger. He was really ready to believe that he was about to be offered up, a living sacrifice, to science. With an iodined hole in his toe and another in his rear, he felt that he had done enough for the advancement of knowledge.
‘We won’t call upon you,’ his father assured him.
‘Except in case of emergency,’ Hal qualified. ‘And if you don’t want that to happen you’d better unlimber your .22 and get at least one warmblooded animal per day for Vamp.’
The idea cheered Roger considerably. He loved to use his gun and only wanted a good excuse. This was it. He could hardly wait until morning.
Vamp spent the rest of the night in the net. In the morning, she — for in spite of her lack of feminine beauty she was identified as a member of the fair sex — was transferred to a cage that Hal had made from strips of bamboo.
Roger, who usually could think of nothing in the morning except eating, was off before breakfast into the wood with his Mossberg. It was a 15-shot automatic equipped with a scope. It was loaded with high-speed Long Rifle cartridges. Although the gun was light and its calibre was only .22, he had killed a big puma with it in Colorado.
Now he secretly hoped to get a shot at a tigre. But after an hour of stalking, all he came upon was a ratlike capyvara, and a little one at that. The capyvara, when full grown, is three feet long and the world’s largest rodent.
This one was no bigger than a wharf rat. He almost scorned to bother with it. But, thinking of Vamp, and his own breakfast, he let fly.
The result was rather astonishing. The little capyvara seemed to emit a roar that shook the forest as it fell over dead. Roger was paralysed with surprise. Then there was a flash of black and yellow in the bushes behind the capyvara and the disappointed tigre that had been stalking it bounded away through the brush.
When Roger saw the size, power and grace of the big animal he changed his mind about wanting to meet it with a .22.
Thankful that he had not wounded it and brought it tumbling out upon him, he took up the little rodent and walked back to camp, with frequent glances behind him.
Breakfast was served to Vamp inside her cage which was shrouded in cloth in order to make it as dark as the caverns that had been her home during daylight