“It may be possible for a boy, occasionally, to be polite and gentle; I do not know,” mewed the cat. “But as for dogs! Well, you must unsheath your claws and arch your back on sight!”
Caesar was an independent cat of wide experience and had travelled and lived in many barns; his opinion, therefore, had weight with True. One day, whilst rubbing against the colt’s leg, in his affectionate way, he remarked that if it had not been for Gipsey and True he would long since have returned to his last barn-home, where the mice had a sweeter flavor on account of a careless housewife who often left her cheese-box open.
“Besides,” he added, strutting about and waving his tail with careless dignity, “there is a very nice tortoiseshell pussy waiting there for me!”
“But, do you know the way back?” asked True, interested and not failing to admire, and be duly impressed, by Caesar’s swagger and importance.
“I know the way back well enough,” the cat bragged; but added with disgust, “In very truth, the jade who put me in the bag forgot to shake the dust out of it; but such a trifle could not blind me!”
A very happy playground was the Whitman barnyard. Beside the horses there were two little red-and-white calves who romped in a way that entertained but almost drove Caesar crazy. Before them he would flee, round and round, instead of getting out of their way at once!
A curly-tailed, twinkling-eyed pig, very fat and funny, shared their life for a time; but one day he disappeared, noisily, and never returned.
In those days the memory of the British was fresh in the minds of all; the War of the Revolution had been over but a short eight years and the name “Red-Coat” still had an ominous sound. Gipsey, being an American mother, taught her son to hate the British and told him war-tales that made him quiver with patriotism.
One day the colt invented a game which he called “Chasing the Red-Coat,” and fine fun it was, to be sure! With one accord the calves and True made Caesar the “Red-Coat” because he was such a fleet runner! That Caesar did not think much of the game was obvious as he dashed wildly at a tree and running up its trunk sat spluttering at them, his fur on end, his tail straight in the air.
Being interrupted by Silas,—for daily exercise and practise in the arts of being bitted and led about—never annoyed the colt. The calves and Caesar watched these performances, furtively, and wondered when their turns would come; True always told them the fun he had and took care to mention the subsequent reward of maple sugar.