“You might try chasing your tail,” she murmured. “I think stars are exciting.”
“Of course, if you start thinking about them,” I agreed. “Still, you can look at them most any time.”
“You hardly ever see so many as there are tonight. See, there’s the Little Dipper!”
It was while I was trying to see the Little Dipper that Adam saw his chance. I think very likely the sly thing had been waiting for just that moment when both our heads should be lifted to the sky.
“Where’s Adam?” Eve asked presently, coming back to earth.
“He was here just a moment ago.” I got up. “Adam, Adam!” I called.
Then suddenly, almost like an echo—but not quite—from the other side of the hedge I heard a voice. “Caliph, Caliph!” it said.
I stopped short. In the darkness of the adjoining yard, I saw the figure of Aunt Cal’s neighbor, a short plump gentleman of seafaring aspect who went in the village by the title of Captain Trout but whom Aunt Cal herself referred to with some asperity as “that man next door.” “Caliph, Caliph!” he called again.
“I didn’t know he had a cat,” whispered Eve at my side. Then just in front of us we saw Adam scurrying toward the hedge. In a second he was through it and bounding across the yard toward the summoning voice. “He thinks he’s calling him,” I said. “I guess I’d better go after him.”
I negotiated the hedge with only a scratch or two on my legs and flew after the runaway. “Adam,” I called. “Come back here, you bad cat!”