The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

they flew straight at the Bob-Whites.
    Honey, terrified, beat them off. “Go away! They’ll get in my hair, and I’ll never get them out!”
    “Don’t be afraid!” Trixie said. “They won’t hurt you.
    That’s a superstition—bats getting in people’s hair.”
    “I don’t care. I don’t like them!” Honey wailed. “They’ve settled down now, since you took your light off them,” Jim said. “They’re interesting. Bats fly by radar; did you know that?”
    “At least they have their own warning signals,” said Mart, who seemed to know something about almost everything. “They send out a high-pitched beep. Humans can’t hear it.”
    “It must be something like the whistle we use to call Reddy back home,” Trixie said.
    “They seldom bump into anything,” Brian explained further. “They send out those beeps, and the sound waves bounce back from any obstruction in their paths. When they fly, they screech at the rate of about thirty times a second. Aren’t they something? I’d like to know a lot more about bats.”
    “Here’s your chance,” Slim said. “Wait’ll you see what the buzzards and hawks do to ’em!” He picked up a handful of rocks and threw them against the far wall. The startled bats roared into flight, circling the cave clockwise and beating against the Bob-Whites, almost knocking them down. Everyone waved their arms wildly and ran out of the cave. Slim, pushing the others aside, ran ahead of them.
    The whirring wings of the frenzied bats sounded like the roar of an express train as they found the exit. Outside, they flew in disorganized flight till hawks, flashing down from the sky, pounced on the helpless creatures.
    The scene that followed was sickening. Trixie and Honey hid their faces as little brown balls of fur fell to the ground around them, dropped from deadly claws. The hawks were startled by the sudden appearance of the young people.
    Gradually the bats escaped into the sky, and several ugly buzzards that had lurked on the outskirts of the fray, afraid to claim the little bodies on the ground, disappeared from sight.
    “That was the cruelest thing anybody ever did!” Trixie said, her eyes flashing fire. “I hate you, Slim! Those poor little things!”
    “Can we bury them?” Honey asked, trembling.
    “We’ll dig a trench with the pickax,” Brian answered her.
    When the grave was ready, the tiny victims were covered completely with sand, then mounded over with stones.
    Slim watched the whole proceeding, evidently arrogantly unaware of the Bob-Whites’ indignation. When the bats were buried, he spat contemptuously and announced to the sky, “Now I’ve seen everything.”
    “Not everything,” Jim answered slowly, anger reddening his face. “You march down to the boat!” he commanded.
    “Who says so?” Slim inquired belligerently.
    “We do!” Brian said, backing up Jim. “We’re through with you. March!”
    Slim snarled viciously and came at Brian, head lowered. Suddenly he seemed to realize that he was outnumbered, so he stopped and swaggered down to the boat.
    Jim and Brian, their faces stern, followed him. “You stay with the girls, Mart. Brian and I’ll be back as soon as we deposit Slim’s mean hide on the other shore.”
    “I hope that’s the end of Slim,” Honey said with a big sigh as the boat pushed off.
    “It won’t be,” Mart said. “I think we’ll have more trouble with him.”
    “He’s mean, hateful, and cruel,” Honey said and shuddered.
    “You sure called the turn on him the first time you saw him, Trix,” Mart said. “I guess Jim and Brian will go up to the lodge and tell Uncle Andrew about Slim and why we’re through with him.”
    Mart, Trixie, and Honey extinguished their carbide lamps to save fuel and sat huddled on the beach, waiting for Jim and Brian to come back. Shading their eyes, they saw the boys put Slim ashore; they saw him turn on them and shake his fists, then go up the steep bank. They saw Jim and Brian go up the path to the lodge, then return, get into the boat, and shove off for the cave.
    Uncle Andrew said it’s okay without Slim,” Brian shouted from the boat. “Man, what a relief!”
    Hooray!” Trixie cried. “I feel as though Plymouth Rock has rolled off my chest.”
    Their carbide lamps again gleaming, the Bob-Whites reentered the cave. Brian threw a quick flash to the far wall, and they saw that some of the bats I were still clinging there.
    “They’ll all be back tonight,” he