CHAPTER XI.
“Do you know what you are saying?” said Mrs. Polly, when she had recovered from her astonishment sufficiently to speak.
“I shouldn’t wonder if I did,” answered the sparrow carelessly.
“Have you considered well the danger?” asked Mrs. Polly gravely.
“Oh, bother the danger!” exclaimed the sparrow impatiently. “Suppose the old villain does come home and eat me up? Well, there’ll only be one sparrow less in the world.”
“But you’re a family man. What will become of your wife and children if you are killed?”
“My wife and children are pretty well used to taking care of themselves, and they’ll be as well off without me as with me. There’s a great advantage in the vagabond life I’ve led; and being of no use in the world you won’t be missed, and that’s a comfort;” and the sparrow laughed recklessly.
“Don’t talk so,” said Mrs. Polly; “you know you don’t mean it.”
“Perhaps I don’t,” said the sparrow carelessly.
“You’ve got on your blue spectacles to-day, I guess,” said Mrs. Polly, “and you like to make yourself out worse than you are.”
“I’m sure we should miss you very much,” said the canary. “We have so little variety to our lives, shut up here in these cages, that it’s very pleasant to have you coming and going, and bringing us news from the busy world. Why, we should never have known about little Nancy if it hadn’t been for you; and you are the one who is to bring her here, and now you are about to venture into Graywhisker’s hole and find the ribbon. Why, you’re the bravest fellow I know! Don’t say you’re of no use in the world when you can do so much!”
“You’re very kind,” said the sparrow,—and his voice was somewhat husky, and his eyes looked a little moist,—“to say such pleasant things to a fellow. I don’t think I ever had anybody say such pleasant things to me before. I declare I believe I’ve got a cold coming on;” and the sparrow made a great effort to clear his throat.
“If you persist in doing this reckless thing—” began Mrs. Polly.
“I do persist,” said the sparrow decidedly.
“You must take the opportunity when Graywhisker is away from home,” continued Mrs. Polly. “I don’t know much about his habits myself, but Major can tell you when he is likely to be out. Then let the barn-cat watch at the entrance of the hole, and you’re safe from him provided you don’t come to harm in the hole.”
Mrs. Polly put her head on one side with a meditative air, and the others were silent, for they knew she was considering deeply about the matter. After a few minutes’ silence she spoke.
“I’ll tell you what seems to me to be a good plan,” she said to the sparrow. “You see the barn-cat and whisper to her to take her kittens out for an airing in front of the barn. Graywhisker will be sure to see them, and conclude that it’s safe for him to leave home, for he never goes out while she is in the barn. You watch from a distance, and when he is gone you give the barn-cat a sign and let her leave her kittens with the little gray kitten while you slip into the hole and she sits at the entrance. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand that it wouldn’t make much difference to the barn-cat whether she ate me or Graywhisker; on the whole, I’m inclined to think she’d give me the preference. No, I thank you, I’d rather meet Graywhisker in the hole than have the barn-cat watch the entrance while I’m in.”
“Well, I don’t know but that you’re right,” answered Mrs. Polly; “then we’ll leave it this way. You wait for an opportunity when Graywhisker is away and the barn-cat too, and then you slip in and get the ribbon. Major will point out his hole to you.”
“All right,” answered the sparrow cheerfully. “I’ll take advantage of the first opportunity;” and he flew off to the top of a tall pear-tree that commanded a view of the barn and yard. The parrot saw him sit quietly there for some time, his little head bobbing about in a very wide-awake manner, and then suddenly fly down and dart into the window above Major’s stall. She knew the desired opportunity had come, and both she and the canary felt great anxiety as to the result of such a bold undertaking.
Just then Tom and Posy came out and seated themselves on the steps of the piazza to eat their lunch.
“Can’t you tell me a story, Tom?” asked Posy; “I’ve told you ever so many nice ones.”
“Well,” said Tom, “let me see—”
“I’d rather hear about animals,” said Posy.
“Well then, I guess I’ll tell you about a hedgehog.”
“Oh dear!” said Posy, with a disappointed air; “well, go on, Tom.”
“Once there was a hedgehog,” began Tom, “who lived in a little hole in the woods.”
“What?” asked Posy quickly.
“You mustn’t interrupt me, Posy,” said Tom. “I said there was once a hedgehog who lived in a little hole in the woods.”
“But it couldn’t, you know,” said Posy, with a perplexed expression.
“He could and he did,” continued Tom decidedly; “and one day he started out for a walk—”
“Why, Tom,” said Posy earnestly, “how could a hedgehog take a walk? A hedgehog is a kind of barrel, you know.”
“You mean hogshead,” said Tom; “what a little goosie you are, Posy! But no matter,” he continued, as Posy’s cheeks flushed at her mistake; “the hedgehog started out for a walk one morning, and before he’d gone very far he met an old fox who lived in a ledge of rocks near by. ‘Good-morning, sir,’ said Mr. Fox, ‘this is a fine morning to be out’—”
“Tom,” said Posy suddenly, “I do believe the barn-cat is going to bring her kittens out. Do look at her!”
The barn-cat sat in the doorway of the barn, and moved her tail gently backward and forward, occasionally uttering a low “meaw” in a very coaxing tone and looking behind her. Soon a little head appeared, and then another, and two tiger-kittens began to play with her tail. Then the barn-cat stepped down from the doorway into the yard, and went through the same performance again. The tiger-kittens came to the edge of the step and looked cautiously over. The barn-cat pretended not to see them, but kept her tail gently moving.
Then the tiger-kittens put first one paw over the edge of the step, and then another, and all at once they tumbled over into the yard. Then what a play they did have! They lay on their sides and kicked against their mother, and then they made believe frightened and galloped sideways up to her, with their backs arched and as fierce an expression as their mild little eyes were capable of producing.
“See the old cat make believe she doesn’t see ’em, and yet she watches them out of the corner of her eye all the time,” said Tom.
Then the barn-cat began to wash herself, and the kittens did the same; but they didn’t do it in a very thorough manner, for their little paws didn’t touch their faces half of the time.
Then the barn-cat took up one of her hind legs and washed it, and the kittens tried to do the same; but they were such little round balls they kept losing their balance, and tumbled over every time they lifted up their short hind legs.
Soon the barn-cat went into the barn, leaving her kittens at play in the yard.
“That’s strange,” said Tom, “to leave her kittens; she’s usually so careful of them.”
In a few minutes the gray kitten came out and seated herself near the tiger-kittens.
“I really believe,” said Posy, “that the barn-cat sent the gray kitten out to take care of her babies while she was out hunting.”
When the barn-cat entered the barn, she called the gray kitten to her and told her she would like to have her take charge of the kittens while she watched for a while at Graywhisker’s hole, as she hadn’t seen him leave the barn for a long time.
The gray kitten, delighted to be of service to her kind friend, hurried down to the yard, and the barn-cat took her station beside Graywhisker’s hole. Meanwhile the sparrow had learned from Major where Graywhisker’s hole was situated, and was already some distance in, when the barn-cat took her position outside.
“Dark as a pocket,” said the sparrow to himself as he cautiously groped his way.
“Perhaps I shall see better when I’m used to the darkness,” he said hopefully; and he went on slowly, putting one foot carefully before the other. Suddenly he lost his footing and fell down several inches, but he landed on his feet and was not hurt.
“All right,” said the sparrow, and looked about him. A little ray of light shone in through a crevice of the wall, and he was able to see faintly. This was evidently Graywhisker’s dwelling; and the long dark place he went through first, the passage-way leading to it. As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light he began to distinguish objects.
“Whew! how close!” said the sparrow, as he took a long breath.
All the old rat’s treasures were evidently collected here. Crusts of bread, rinds of cheese, scraps of bacon, were lying around; and bits of rags and twine were collected in a corner, and evidently served as Graywhisker’s bed.
“You’ll have to make your bed over to-night, my friend,” said the sparrow, rumpling the bed over and scattering the rags all over the floor. “Hallo! what’s this?” he said, as he came upon a smooth round object.
“I declare, if it isn’t a hen’s egg! The old thief! I wonder how he managed to get it in here without breaking it! I guess I’ll save him the trouble of breaking it;” and he pecked at it until he had made a hole large enough for the inside of the egg to run out. He gave a mischievous laugh as he saw the liquid oozing out, and then continued his search.
“Whew!” he said again; “it’s getting rather stifling here, I must hurry up. Where in the world can that ribbon be?” and he looked carefully around in every direction. “Hooray!” he exclaimed, as he caught sight of a little piece of red silk hanging from a nail over his head. “Thought he’d got it hid away safely, didn’t he?” and in a twinkling he had hopped up and caught the ribbon securely in his beak.
“Now for a little fresh air,” said the sparrow; “I couldn’t stand it much longer.”
He looked around for the entrance to the passage-way. There were three holes just alike; which was the right one? He stood perplexed. “What a fool I was,” he said to himself, “not to take more notice! This is a pretty fix! Well, here goes! I’ll try each one, and one of them must lead out.” So he hopped up to the hole nearest him and boldly entered. It was utterly dark, and he felt his way for a time in silence; but the sparrow, who lived out in the pure air, was not accustomed to the close and musty atmosphere of an old rat-hole, and he began to feel faint and a little bewildered. What if he shouldn’t be able to find his way at all? But he was a brave little fellow, and he thrust the thought aside. “I will get out, I won’t give up,” he said resolutely. “This hole must lead somewhere;” and he pushed bravely on.
“Seems to me I’ve gone far enough to take me out; I don’t understand it. My strength won’t hold out to go back and try another entrance.” He thought of the bright-eyed sparrow and his three little ones, and he determined to hold out, for they had never seemed so dear to him as they did now that the hope of seeing them again appeared so small. With a great effort he kept on, holding the bit of ribbon in his beak. Soon he turned a sharp corner, and with joy he beheld a ray of light in the distance. The long dark passage led into the main passage-way, and he was safe.
Just as he was about to emerge into the daylight a faint rustle met his quick ears, and with horror he beheld the barn-cat seated at the entrance.
There was nothing to be done but to wait patiently and see what would happen next. The air that came in through the entrance of the hole relieved the dreadful faintness that had so oppressed him; so he sat holding the ribbon securely in his beak, but with his brave little heart beating pretty rapidly.
All at once a sudden noise startled him, and peeping cautiously out he saw the barn-cat chasing Graywhisker across the barn-floor. Quick as a flash the sparrow was out and had flown in safety to the window-sill, when Graywhisker disappeared into a hole in the wall, and the barn-cat returned with a crestfallen air to her kittens.
