Just as they had sprung on the village walls, the cats sprang on the backs of its citizens, of course not touching the puppies, for it was not their part to make war on babies. The howls with which the appearance of the army of cats on the walls had been hailed turned into a chorus of yelps as each dog felt the sharp claws of a cat in his back. The dogs were bigger than the cats, and more used to fighting, but the nervous strength of the attacking party more than made up for their smaller size and less heavy muscles. The dogs tried to shake off their riders, but the claws did their work well, and the Purrers stuck like burrs, each soldier to his foe, scratching away and calling upon the dog to give up, until the citizens of Dog Corners were half-frantic.
One big yellow dog took the lead. “We can’t run around here!” he cried. “Follow me!” So saying, he dashed for the main gate, his comrades after him, and made for the woods, each with a cat on his back, running for dear life to escape from the torment which was fastened on every back.
Two miles from Dog Corners the wild ride slackened. Wutz-Butz discovered that the big yellow dog carrying him was the King of the Dogs, for Dog Corners was not a republic, like Purrington, but lived under a king, it being necessary for dogs to have some one to obey, while cats always rule themselves.
“Each with a cat on his back.”
When Wutz-Butz discovered that he was riding the king, he stopped clawing him, and asked him to halt for a moment. Rex—of course that was the king-dog’s name—was only too glad to do so; he was fearfully out of breath, and his tongue ached from lolling so far.
“Look here, King,” said Wutz-Butz—if it had been Tommy Traddles he would have begun differently, for his reading would have taught him to salute a king, in opening his remarks, with the words: “O king, live for ever!” For that is the only correct way to open regal conversation. However, Wutz-Butz, being a soldier and not a scholar, said: “Look here, King, I don’t care about dog-back riding all the morning, and I guess you’ve got about enough of carrying me. I’m the general of this army. We came down upon you because we had certain proof that you were coming to take our town, and capture or kill all of us. We didn’t seem to care about waiting at home for that kind of visitors, so we hit first—it’s the best way, if there’s got to be a fight. We’re not scrappy over at Purrington, and we don’t want fusses with our neighbours, for one thing, and we don’t want neighbours who are liable to drop down on us, for another. Now we’ve got you beat, and we’ll never get off your backs till you give in to our terms.”
“What are your terms?” panted Rex, sadly.
“Easy enough. You’re to move out of this region altogether, and give up Dog Corners to us. We will go back there and tear it all down, and there’ll be no more dogs and no more corners—we’ll round them off!” And Wutz-Butz chuckled at his mild joke.
“You keep on running—without us, you see, so it will be easier—and meet your friends, while we go back and tear down your village. You tell your friends that you’re going to move—you’re king, and what you say goes—you seem to go pretty well, too, and I mean you to go farther. I don’t believe you’ll fare worse! Now, will you do it, or won’t you?”