one of the little bats hung back with a very cross look on his face, and twice his father had to tell him to fly faster. he was thinking how he would like to see the forest in the daytime. he had never seen the sun rise, and he wanted to do that. he had never seen any of the day-birds or the animals that awaken in the morning. he thought it was pretty mean to make poor little bats go off to bed the minute the stars began to fade. he didn't believe what his father and mother said, that he wouldn't have a good time if he did stay up. he had coaxed and coaxed and teased and teased, but it hadn't made a bit of difference. every morning he had to fold his wings and go to sleep in a dark crack in the rock of the cave, hanging, head downward, close to the rest of the family. their father said that there never was a better place to sleep than in this same crack, and it certainly was easy to catch on with the hooks at the lower ends of their wings when they hung themselves up for the day. but now he just wouldn't go to bed, so there!