“Gentlemen!” Gobbolino said. “I have something to say to you! Do you realize how much trouble you are causing in this fine old church by the way you are behaving? Everybody thinks the place is haunted!”
“It’s our home!” whined some of the bats.
Others murmured, “We don’t like the bells any more than you do! Some day perhaps they will fall down and then we can live here in peace and quiet!”
“How can you speak like that?” said Gobbolino, shocked. “The place is so dirty, and everybody hates you, apart from the haunting. Once they find out who is ringing the bells I wouldn’t give much for your chances! They’ll smoke you out, I wouldn’t be surprised!”
“Oh! Oh!” raged the bats. “And who is going to tell them? What business is it of yours anyway? We already have the old priest preaching at us, and it makes us feel most uncomfortable! We don’t want to stay in his old church, but we haven’t anywhere else to go.”
“Turn them out of the belfry! We don’t want them in here!” called out more bats.
“The church is a sanctuary!” other bats reproved them. “We are not allowed to turn them out.”
They began to whisper among themselves.
“Wait until they leave of their own accord, and then we’ll set upon them!” Gobbolino distinctly heard them say.
He and the little wooden horse looked at one another.
They had planned to leave first thing in the morning, but to be attacked by the bats would be just as bad as being chased by the hounds. The alternative was to stay inside the church. And of what use was safety if they were in prison?
The little wooden horse shook his head in perplexity. He felt brave enough to take on any number of bats, and his wooden body would not suffer much harm from their scratches and bites, but he was afraid Gobbolino would come off very badly if a lot of the creatures attacked him at once, and he stood thinking in some dejection of what to do next.
Suddenly he heard Gobbolino speak, and at once every bat in the belfry stopped squeaking and pricked up its ears and listened.
“Gentlemen!” Gobbolino said. “I have something to propose to you. But please tell me first: are you happy in this place, or would you prefer to have another home?”
“Why, yes we would!” said the bats complainingly. “It is noisy here! It is crowded— we hardly have enough room to sleep in, all on top of one another like that, and the bells make a hideous noise if we turn over. Of course we would rather have another home!”
“Ah!” said Gobbolino wisely.
“But there are so many of us it is quite hopeless to think of finding one!” the bats continued. “And we don’t want to split up our families. We’ve got grannies and great-grandpas and great-great-aunties and all kinds of ancestors as well as little nieces and nephews, and lots of babies. We all want to live together, and where would we find enough room except in a belfry?”
“Ah!” said Gobbolino again, very wisely.
“Why? Do you know of anywhere?” the bats asked, all agog with interest and excitement.
“I do!” replied Gobbolino. “Up in the Hurricane Mountains where I used to live there are hundreds and hundreds of empty caves. I was born in one and I know. There is room there for thousands of bats! There are no church bells and nobody comes and tells you to go away. Every family could have its own cave… every family!”
By now the bats were shimmering and wriggling with anticipation.
“Are you sure? Do you promise?” they asked Gobbolino, beginning to leave the bell-ropes and to fly round the belfry not all at once, but in ones and twos so that the hideous clash of bells did not occur.
“I am sure! And I promise!” said Gobbolino solemnly. “But you must go and take possession in an orderly fashion, because a witch lives in the highest cave, and you don’t want to annoy her or she might turn you into something horrid. Leave this place two by two, and fly straight up to the mountains. You have only to come back here if you find I am not telling you the truth.”
“But they won’t come back, because Iam telling them the truth!” said Gobbolino, as two by two and quite quietly the bats left the ropes, flew out of the tower, and vanished in the early dawn towards the Hurricane Mountains.
Gobbolino stopped the very last pair as they were leaving.
“Please do me a little favour,” he asked them. “If you find that I have kept my promise and there are splendid new homes for you up there as I have described, then will you of your kindness fly up to the highest cave on the Hurricane Mountains and tell my sister Sootica that I am on my way to help her? Say that I have received her message and I am coming as fast as I can!”
The bats promised to do this.
So Gobbolino’s disappointment was all the greater when the little wooden horse, standing on the belfry steps with the light of the early morning shining on the great new peace around them, said that he thought they ought to clean the church before they left.
6THE CHURCH IS SAVED [Êàðòèíêà: i_012.jpg]
“It will take us hours and hours!” said Gobbolino sadly.
The little wooden horse was already hunting in the vestry for dustpans and brushes, dusters and brooms. He sent Gobbolino outside to find a dustbin.
Gobbolino went out into the fresh morning air, very glad to be free of the bat-ridden church. He found a large dustbin, and also a tap with a pail underneath it, but he was in no mood for spring cleaning. He looked wistfully towards the Hurricane Mountains, envying the bats, who would be there by now, exploring the caves, and even making the acquaintance of his little sister Sootica.
There was one comfort— they would be telling her that he was coming.
He filled the bucket with water and carried it inside.
The little wooden horse had wasted no time in idleness. He was on the top of the belfry stairs sweeping the bell-ropes with the broom until no dirt or dust remained, and then he swept the bells. Beyond a faint chime every now and again no sound came out of them. They hung limp and heavy above the chancel far below. Gobbolino felt they must be very relieved to be at peace.
“Once the bats are gone and the church is really clean again the people will come back!” said the little wooden horse, sweeping and polishing and mopping. Gobbolino joined in with a will, thinking the sooner the job was finished the better, and it was surprising how quickly they swept away the rubbish, washed the stones, and put the place to rights.
Shortly before midday the old priest returned, carrying a large plate of cold meat and a jug of milk. He nearly dropped these in his astonishment when he stepped inside the church. Gobbolino and the little wooden horse were just sweeping out the last of the dust and droppings, while the nave and the aisles gleamed with cleanliness. The pews shone.
“Oh my dear, good, kind little friends!” the old man said. “How can I thank you enough? But I am afraid all your work will be in vain, because within a week the bats will have made it all dirty again, and nobody else has the courage to come and clean up after them.”
Gobbolino and the little wooden horse were so eager to explain that they both began to talk at once, and it was quite a while before they could make themselves understood.
“But do you mean to tell me…” the priest exclaimed, when at last he could make out their astonishing story, “do you mean to say that the haunting which has terrified my whole parish was nothing more nor less than the bats jumping off the bell-ropes?”
“Just that!” said the little wooden horse and Gobbolino, nodding wisely.
“And that the bats are really gone for ever? So that the church will stay clean and tidy and the bells will never clamour any more without a human hand to ring them?” the priest went on.
“The bats will never come back! They have gone to the caves on the Hurricane Mountains where there is room for thousands of bats!” Gobbolino said. “So they will never ring the bells again, and your church will stay clean— that is if your parishioners are willing to keep it that way”