"Jim," he called, as soon as he entered the house,—"Jim, I've got an idea. I saw Mexican just now carrying a dead gopher to her kittens. Does she kill many?"
"Oh, yes, sir," replied Jim. "Before she got her kittens I used to see her with them every day. But she does not go out so often now."
"Good mother!" said Mr. Connor. "Stays at home with her family, does she?"
"Yes, sir," laughed Jim; "except when she needs to go out to get food for them."
"You may set about making a collection of cats, Jim, at once," said Mr. Connor. "I'd like twenty."
Jim stared. "I thought you didn't like cats, Mr. George," he exclaimed. "I was afraid to bring Mexican home, for fear you wouldn't like having her about."
"No more do I," replied Mr. Connor. "But I do not dislike them so much as I dislike gophers. And don't you see, if we have twenty, and they all hunt gophers as well as she does, we'll soon have the place cleared?"
"We'd have to feed them, sir," said Jim. "So many's that, they'd never make all their living off gophers."
"Well, we'll feed them once a day, just a little, so as not to let them starve. But we must keep them hungry, or else they won't hunt."