He finished another hill.
Just then a cat, out on a morning walk, chanced to pass through the field a few rods away. Now Sam could never see a cat without wanting to chase it,—a fact which would have led the cat, had she been aware of it, to give him a wide berth. But, unluckily, Sam saw her.
"Scat!" he exclaimed, and, grasping his hoe, he ran after puss.
The cat took alarm, and, climbing the wall which separated the potato-field from the next, sped over it in terror. Sam followed with whoops and yells, which served to accelerate her speed. Occasionally he picked up a stone, and threw at her, and once he threw the hoe in the excitement of his chase. But four legs proved more than a match for two, and finally he was obliged to give it up, but not till he had run more than quarter of a mile. He sat down to rest on a rock, and soon another boy came up, with a fishing-pole over his shoulder.
"What are you doing, Sam?" he asked.
"I've been chasin' a cat," said Sam.
"Didn't catch her, did you?"
"No, hang it."
"Where'd you get that hoe?"
"I'm to work for Deacon Hopkins. He's took me. Where are you goin?"