He could not see and he could not breathe, so he made up for it in yells which even reached his mother in the Farmer’s parlor. She had just been telling her cousin what a wonderful boy her Oswald was.
“Yes,” she went on, “he isn’t like other boys at all. He is never idle, he is always finding out things for himself or doing something splendid! Ah! What’s that! I think I hear him calling. He always does that when he’s found something wonderful!”
So Mrs. Simpkins and the Farmer went out of the house to see what Oswald had found. They heard him all right, but they could not find him.
“Yow-w-w-w-w!” howled Oswald more wild with fury because his fond Mamma had not at once come to his rescue. “Yow-w-w-w-w!!!”
“Sounds as if he were under the barn!” exclaimed the Farmer at last. He walked around to the back and there found a foot sticking out of the hole. Dodging a kick, he seized the foot and began to pull, Mrs. Simpkins, now much alarmed, pulling also until between them they nearly pulled Oswald in two.
“We’ve got him!” gurgled Mrs. Simpkins as more body appeared and the sound of the yells grew louder. “Oh, what an awful smell!”
“I say so, too!” agreed the Farmer heartily. “Let’s poke him back.”
But just then the whole of Oswald came out and his mother clasped him to her in utter disregard of consequences.
“My son,” cried Mrs. Simpkins tragically, “what has happened!”
“A kitty!” cried Oswald, “a little black kitty with a white striped coat.” Then, seeing the Farmer’s convulsed face, his tears drowned all else.