So the little mouse went on her way, and had nearly reached the hole, when suddenly from behind a barrel darted the house-cat, her large yellow eyes glaring fiercely in the moonlight.
The poor little mouse gave a squeak of terror, and dropping the silver thimble ran swiftly for her life, closely followed by the house-cat. One pause or misstep and all would have been over with Mrs. Silverskin; and thinking of her babies at home who were waiting for her, she ran as she never ran before, dreading every moment to feel the house-cat’s cruel claws; but she reached the hole under the shed-door in safety, and had just time to whisk her tail in after her when the house-cat’s claws were at the entrance.
How her little heart did beat when she reached the barn; and how much faster still it beat when she remembered that she had left Hannah’s silver thimble behind, and must give an account of herself to old Graywhisker! Yes, there was the old rat peering out of his hole, and she couldn’t pass without his seeing her. His sharp old eyes soon spied her out, and he called to her to stop.
“Well,” he said, eying her sharply as she stood trembling before him, “how did you get along? Come, don’t keep me waiting here all night!”
“I got along very well,” said the little mouse, “until I reached the loft, and I was almost up to the hole in the corner when all at once out sprang the house-cat and I had to run for dear life. I never had such a narrow escape in my life.”
“And the thimble!” exclaimed the old rat in a fierce tone; “where is the thimble?”
“I dropped it in my fright,” said the little mouse in a shaking voice. “I couldn’t run with it in my mouth; the house-cat would surely have caught me if I had.”
“What!” squeaked the old rat. “You lost the thimble, did you?” and he sprang so suddenly at the poor little mouse that she gave a loud squeal of terror,—so loud that the barn-cat awoke from one of her light cat-naps and quickly started up. As she appeared, both Graywhisker and Mrs. Silverskin ran.
“I believe I’m more afraid of Graywhisker than I am even of the barn-cat,” said the little mouse to herself, as she reached her hole above the mow in safety. “Dear me, what a fearful night this has been! To be almost caught by the house-cat, pounced on by Graywhisker, and then chased by the barn-cat! Graywhisker is certainly the worst of the three! What will he do to me for losing the thimble? I shan’t dare to stir out of my house till the affair has blown over.”
The next morning the house-kittens were busily playing.