The bats themselves kept up a constant whirring of wings as they came back into the church tower from the churchyard, where the baying of the hounds had driven them. They disappeared inside the bell tower, having, it seemed, no particular fear of ghosts.
Gobbolino remembered bats from his life in the witch’s cave. He did not care for them very much, but he looked on them as harmless. A clinging suspicion that the hounds might come back that way made the friends decide not to sleep in the body of the church. When they had finished their bread and milk they climbed up the winding stair to the bell tower and saw hundreds of bats clinging to the bell-ropes, with their wings folded one across the other. They did not seem to worry about ghosts.
It was warmer up here than down below. Gobbolino and the little wooden horse found a comfortable alcove halfway up the stairs, and were thankful to rest their legs, and to warm themselves a little in the last rays of the sun pouring through a niche in the side of the tower.
Presently they became aware of a rustling and a whispering. The bats were waking up and peering at them.
"Who are you? Where are you from? Did you come with those horrible howling dogs? And if so, why did they leave you behind?" Their eager little heads were peering forward and their bright eyes twinkled at Gobbolino and the little wooden horse.
These began to tell them their story, but they had hardly begun before a bat perched on the biggest of the bells called out:
"The sun has touched the rim of the bell, brothers! It is time to get up! Now! Now!"
Suddenly, with the most fearful clamour every bat left the bell-ropes at once, and dived below into the body of the church. Some of them slipped through cracks into the churchyard outside, but the rest of them joined in a mad chase round and round the nave and the aisles, in and out of the screen, up and over the organ, in and out of the pulpit, while above them and around them the clamour of the liberated bells filled every corner of the building and echoed far beyond the priest's house, the churchyard and the village.
It all happened so suddenly that Gobbolino and the little wooden horse were taken by surprise.
They cowered in their alcove, quite overwhelmed by the dreadful noise and the flurry of the whirling black bodies streaming past them. They could well understand the horror of the village, and the unwillingness of the congregation to enter the church. The bells took a long time to calm down after such agitation.
There was nothing they could do to calm the mad ecstasy of the bats, and they were so tired that all they desired was a little peace and quiet to sleep the night away after their adventure.
Peace they had at last, once they became used to the constant whirling of the bats, which was, after all, rather like the noise of the wind in the trees on a stormy night.
They slept, in spite of their exhaustion, with one ear open, expecting the same blast of bells when the bats should have finished their cavorting and come back to their perches at daybreak. But to their surprise they returned quietly, taking up their places one by one, and clinging like moths to the bell-ropes, till the whole tower seemed to be draped in velvet columns.
When he thought they were all assembled, and before they closed their eyes, Gobbolino addressed them, in the pale dawn light that was filling the belfry.
"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 I am 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!"