Laughing at his fears, ridiculing the idea of poor Jean carrying the plague, and assuring him that demons and devils were particularly immune, I refused to accept his hallucination about the cat. He was told to attend to his work and his writing, and not interfere with the running of the house.
Diplomacy was one of Mr. Saltus' strong points. He appeared to agree with me. Coming around the corner of the piazza the following afternoon however, when supposed to be on the sands, I was in time to see him with the hose in his hand, the nozzle turned so as to send a straight and powerful stream of water. This he was playing on Jean, who, terrified at such unlooked-for hostility in place of his usual plate of food, let out piteous howls and fled up a eucalyptus tree.
Hell has no fury like a woman defied. Dropping the hose when he saw me Mr. Saltus turned,—but he had no chance to escape or explain. Seizing the nozzle I let him have it full in the face, and as he ran I followed, soaking him through and through till he got out of range. It was a tense moment. Swearing and raging, he shook himself and fled to his attic room. When he emerged, an hour later, it was with suitcases in his hand.
"After treatment like this I am going to the Hotel del Coronado, and I will send for my trunks. Never in my life have I been subjected to such an indignity. Here I am,—growing grey in your service and less than a stray cat in your eyes."
"Good-bye and good luck," I answered. "If having led two unfortunate women a devil's dance hasn't taught you anything you are hopeless. Had one of them played a hose on you ages ago, I would not have been obliged to now. Don't come back for your trunks. I will send them."
That took him off his feet entirely. He had in mind a scene in which, after repentance and apologies on my part, he would graciously consent to forgive me. Incidentally it would mean the banishment of Jean. Dismissed in that way, there was nothing for him to do but go. With a suitcase in either hand he started for the hotel. Years later he told me that he had put his suitcases on the sand, and sitting down on one of them, had taken stock of himself. For the good part of two hours he sat there, till the sun dropping behind Point Loma, and the chill which followed, reminded him of the passing of time. A man can do a great deal of thinking in two hours.
Meanwhile, from the tiptop of the highest of trees poor Jean sent out frantic appeals for help and rescue. However easy it is for cats to climb trees, getting down is different. They have been known to starve to death in one. When dishes of dainties and fish failed to dislodge him more than a limb or two lower, we realized that it was impossible for him to get down, and the maid announced that the sun was setting and the rapidly vanishing twilight called for speed. The highest kind of an extension ladder was borrowed and opened to its utmost capacity. It barely reached the limb below the one to which the frightened cat clung. The slender ladder, swaying somewhat more than was comfortable as one ascended, the tall tree and the dark combined, were not tempting. Several small boys started up very bravely but came down less so. Not one of them got half-way to the top, although I kept raising the price for valour till it reached five dollars, and the terrified Jean increased his appeals for help. There seemed to be no alternative. Putting on my riding breeches I was starting up the ladder when a voice as pitiful as Jean's cracked the silence.
"My God, Mowgy, come off that ladder!"
Mr. Saltus pushed me aside and started up. He had never been on a ladder before. With his teeth set and three women doing their best to steady it, he finally got to the top, and by stretching his arm to the utmost caught Jean by the tail, and dropped him—not, as he intended, into my arms, but on the top of my head.
The episode was closed. The cat was saved, and by the following morning the bubonic scare transformed itself into a comedy. Descending from the djinn and the hourla of the attic, Mr. Saltus greeted me with the following limerick:—