Among the Night People, Page 3

  THE WIGGLERS BECOME MOSQUITOES

  It was a bright moonlight night when the oldest Wigglers in therain-barrel made up their mind to leave the water. They had always beenrestless and discontented children, but it was not altogether theirfault. How could one expect any insect with such a name to floatquietly? When the Mosquito Mothers laid their long and slender eggs inthe rain-barrel, they had fastened them together in boat-shaped masses,and there they had floated until the Wigglers were strong enough tobreak through the lower ends of the eggs into the water. It had beenonly a few days before they were ready to do this.

  Then there had been a few more days and nights when the tiny Wigglershung head downward in the water, and all one could see by looking acrossthe barrel was the tips of their breathing tubes. Sometimes, if theywere frightened, a young Wiggler would forget and get head uppermost fora minute, but he was always ashamed to have this happen, and made allsorts of excuses for himself when it did. Well-bred little Wigglerstried to always have their heads down, and Mosquitoes who stopped tovisit with them and give good advice told them such things as these:"The Wiggler who keeps his head up may never have wings," and, "Up withyour tails and down with your eyes, if you would be mannerly, healthy,and wise."

  When they were very young they kept their heads way down and breathedthrough a tube that ran out near the tail-end of their bodies. This tubehad a cluster of tiny wing-like things on the very tip, which kept itfloating on the top of the water. They had no work to do, so they justate food which they found in the water, and wiggled, and played tag, andwhenever they were at all frightened they dived to the bottom and stayedthere until they were out of breath. That was never very long.

  There were many things to frighten them. Sometimes a stray Horse stoppedby the barrel to drink, sometimes a Robin perched on the edge for a fewmouthfuls of water, and once in a while a Dragon-Fly came over to visitfrom the neighboring pond. It was not always the biggest visitor whoscared them the worst. The Horses tried not to touch the Wigglers, whilea Robin was only too glad if he happened to get one into his bill withthe water. The Dragon-Flies were the worst, for they were the hungriest,and they were so much smaller that sometimes the Wigglers didn't seethem coming. Sometimes, too, when they thought that a Dragon-Fly wasgoing the other way, some of them stayed near the top of the water, onlyto find when it was too late that a Dragon-Fly can go backward orsidewise without turning around.

  When they were a few days old the Wigglers began to change their skins.This they did by wiggling out of their old ones and wearing the new oneswhich had been growing underneath. This made them feel exceedinglyimportant, and some of them became disgracefully vain. One Wiggler wouldnot dive until he was sure a certain Robin had seen his new suit. It wasbecause of that vanity he never lived to be a Mosquito.

  After they had changed their skins a few times, they had twobreathing-tubes apiece instead of one, and these two grew out near theirheads. And their heads were much larger. At the tail-end of his bodyeach Wiggler now had two leaf-like things with which he swam throughthe water. Because they used different breathing-tubes, those Wigglerswho had moulted or cast their skins several times now floated in thewater with their heads just below the surface and their tails down. Whena Wiggler is old enough for this, he is called a Pupa, or half-grownone.

  There are often young Mosquito children of all ages in the samebarrel--eggs, Wigglers, and Pupae all together. There is plenty of roomand plenty of food, but because they have no work to do there is muchtime for quarrelling and talking about each other.

  This year the Oldest Brother had put on so many airs that nobody likedit at all, and several of the Wigglers had been heard to say that theycouldn't bear the sight of him. He had such a way of saying, "When I wasa young Wiggler and had to keep my head down," or repeating, "Up withyour tails and down with your eyes, if you would be mannerly, healthy,and wise." One little Wiggler crossed his feelers at him, and they saythat it is just as bad to do that as to make faces. Besides, it is somuch easier--if you have the feelers to cross.

  Now the Oldest Brother and those of his brothers and sisters who hadhatched from the same egg-mass were talking of leaving the rain-barrelforever. It was a bright moonlight night and they longed to get theirwings uncovered and dried, for then they would be full-grown Mosquitoes,resting most of the day and having glorious times at night.

  The Oldest Brother was jerking himself through the water as fast as hecould, giving his jointed body sudden bends, first this way and thenthat, and when he met anyone nearly his own age he said, "Come with meand cast your skin. It is a fine evening for moulting."

  Sometimes they answered, "All right," and jerked or wiggled or swamalong with him, and sometimes a Pupa would answer, "I'm afraid I'm notold enough to slip out of my skin easily."

  Then the Oldest Brother would reply, "Don't stop for that. You'll beolder by the time we begin." That was true, of course, and all membersof Mosquito families grow old very fast. So it happened that when themoon peeped over the farmhouse, showing her bright face between the twochimneys, twenty-three Pupae were floating close to each other and makingready to change their skins for the last time.

  It was very exciting. All the young Wigglers hung around to see what wasgoing on, and pushed each other aside to get the best places. The OldestBrother was much afraid that somebody else would begin to moult beforehe was ready, and all the brothers were telling their sisters to becareful to split their skins in the right place down the back, and thesisters were telling them that they knew just as much about moulting astheir brothers did. Every little while the Oldest Brother would say,"Now wait! Don't one of you fellows split his old skin until I say so."

  Then two or three of his brothers would become impatient, because theirouter skins were growing tighter every minute, and would say, "Why not?"and would grumble because they had to wait. The truth was that theOldest Brother could not get his skin to crack, although he jerked andwiggled and took very deep breaths. And he didn't want any one else toget ahead of him. At last it did begin to open, and he had just told theothers to commence moulting, when a Mosquito Mother stopped to lay a feweggs in the barrel.

  "Dear me!" said she. "You are not going to moult to-night, are you?"

  "Yes, we are," answered the Oldest Brother, giving a wiggle that splithis skin a little farther. "We'll be biting people before morning."

  "You?" said the Mosquito Mother, with a queer little smile. "I wouldn'tcount on doing that. But you young people may get into trouble if youmoult now, for it looks like rain."

  She waved her feelers upward as she spoke, and they noticed that heavyblack clouds were piling up in the sky. Even as they looked the moon washidden and the wind began to stir the branches of the trees. "It willrain," she said, "and then the water will run off the roof into thisbarrel, and if you have just moulted and cannot fly, you will bedrowned."

  "Pooh!" answered the Oldest Brother. "Guess we can take care ofourselves. I'm not afraid of a little water." Then he tried to crawl outof his old skin.

  The Mosquito Mother stayed until she had laid all the eggs she wantedto, and then flew away. Not one of the Pupae had been willing to listento her, although some of the sisters might have done so if theirbrothers had not made fun of them.

  At last, twenty-three soft and tired young Mosquitoes stood on theircast-off pupa-skins, waiting for their wings to harden. It is never easywork to crawl out of one's skin, and the last moulting is the hardest ofall. It was then, when they could do nothing but wait, that these youngMosquitoes began to feel afraid. The night was now dark and windy, andsometimes a sudden gust blew their floating pupa skins toward one sideof the barrel. They had to cling tightly to them, for they suddenlyremembered that if they fell into the water they might drown. The oldestone found himself wishing to be a Wiggler again. "Wigglers are neverdrowned," thought he.

  "Who are you going to bite first?" asked one of his brothers.

  He answered very crossly: "I don't know and I don't care. I'm nothungry. Can't
you think of anything but eating?"

  "Why, what else is there to think about?" cried all the floatingMosquitoes.

  "Well, there is flying," said he.

  "Humph! I don't see what use flying would be except to carry us to ourfood," said one Mosquito Sister. She afterward found out that it wasgood for other reasons.

  After that they didn't try to talk with their Oldest Brother. Theytalked with each other and tried their legs, and wished it were lightenough for them to see their wings. Mosquitoes have such interestingwings, you know, thin and gauzy, and with delicate fringes around theedges and along the line of each vein. The sisters, too, were proud ofthe pockets under their wings, and were in a hurry to have their wingsharden, so that they could flutter them and hear the beautiful singingsound made by the air striking these pockets. They knew that theirbrothers could never sing, and they were glad to think that they wereahead of them for once. It was not really their fault that they felt so,for the brothers had often put on airs and laughed at them.

  Then came a wonderful flash of lightning and a long roll of thunder, andthe trees tossed their beautiful branches to and fro, while bigrain-drops pattered down on to the roof overhead and spattered andbounded and rolled toward the edge under which the rain-barrel stood.

  "Fly!" cried the Oldest Brother, raising his wings as well as he could.

  "We can't. Where to?" cried the rest.

  "Fly any way, anywhere!" screamed the Oldest Brother, and in somewonderful way the whole twenty-three managed to flutter and crawl andsprawl up the side of the building, where the rain-drops fell past butdid not touch them. There they found older Mosquitoes waiting for theshower to stop. Even the Oldest Brother was so scared that he shook, andwhen he saw that same Mosquito Mother who had told him to put offchanging his skin, he got behind two other young Mosquitoes and keptvery still. Perhaps she saw him, for it was lighter then than it hadbeen. She did not seem to see him, but he heard her talking to herfriends. "I told him," she said, "that he might better put off moulting,but he answered that he could take care of himself, and that he would beout biting people before morning."

  "Did he say that?" cried the other old Mosquitoes.

  "He did," she replied.

  Then they all laughed and laughed and laughed again, and the youngMosquito found out why. It was because Mosquito brothers have to eathoney, and only the sisters may bite people and suck their blood. He hadthought so often how he would sing around somebody until he found thenicest, juiciest spot, and then settle lightly down and bite and suckuntil his slender little body was fat and round and red with itsstomachful of blood. And that could never be! He could never sing, andhe would have to sit around with his stomach full of honey and see hiseleven sisters gorged with blood and hear them singing sweetly as theyflew. If Mosquito Fathers had ever come to the barrel he might havefound this out, but they never did. He sneaked off by himself until hemet an early bird and then--well, you know birds must eat something, andthe Mosquito was right there. Of course, after that, his brothers andsisters had a chance to do as they wanted to, and the eleven sistersbit thirteen people the very next night and had the loveliest kind ofMosquito time.