“Well, I must go,” he said, as he came back from the window. “Major will think that I have forgotten he is waiting harnessed;” and soon Mrs. Polly and the canary were the only occupants of the dining-room.
“Provoking!” exclaimed Mrs. Polly. “I do think human beings are the stupidest things! Here I told them, as plainly as could be, that the rats stole Posy’s necklace and the sugar and raisins, and they couldn’t understand! Talk about animals not being as intelligent as human beings! Why can’t they understand us as well as we can them, I should like to know!”
“It does seem strange they didn’t know what you meant,” said the canary; “I am sure you spoke plainly enough.”
“I can’t understand,” said Mrs. Polly in an irritable tone, “how they can be so stupid. Here they know that the rats steal Major’s oats, and that it is the habit of rats to steal anything that attracts their attention, and yet it never occurs to them that they are the ones that take the sugar and raisins! If the barn-cat and the house-cat were not so jealous of each other and didn’t quarrel all the time, they might catch old Graywhisker, for he is the one that makes all the trouble; but no, they can’t work together, and while one is at one end of the hole, he slips out of the other. If they could only agree together for one to watch at each end, they’d catch him fast enough.”
“There’ll be trouble as long as he lives,” sighed the canary. “Posy said Michael was going to set a trap for him.”
“Much good that will do,” replied Mrs. Polly scornfully; “he’s too old a head to walk into a trap.”
All this time the barn-cat and the house-cat had been devoting all their energies to catching Graywhisker. It was very seldom that either one or the other was not in the way when he attempted to venture out; and the barn-cat set the gray kitten and the little tiger-kittens to watch when she could not.
The gray kitten had grown stronger than she was when she first came to live there, and the young tiger-kittens considered themselves a match even for Graywhisker. As for poor little Mrs. Silverskin, she dared not venture out at all in these troubled times; for, between her fear of Graywhisker and the cats, times were hard indeed.
Old Graywhisker felt that his case was becoming desperate. He sat in his house and looked around on his once well-filled larder. Not a crust, or rind of cheese or pork, was left. His last crumb was gone, and where was he to get more? It was now several days since he had dared venture out, and it was evident the cats were bent on his destruction, for there was now never a time when one of them was not about. He knew he must make a bold move and try to escape from the cats or else die of starvation.
“You’ll never catch Graywhisker there,” said the barn-cat to the house-cat, who was watching the hole outside the barn. “He comes out by half a dozen different ways.”