The King of the Cats chased up the tree and pulled down heavy branches. “There is a sign of my royal prowess,” said he.
“It’s a good sign,” said Quick-to-Grab. They were about to talk again when Quick-to-Grab put down his tail and ran up another tree greatly frightened.
“What ails you?” said the King of the Cats. “Can you not stay still while you are speaking to your lord and master?”
“Old-fellow Badger is coming this way,” said Quick-to-Grab, “and when he puts his teeth in one he never lets go.”
Without saying a word the King of the Cats jumped down from the tree. Old-fellow Badger was coming through the glade. When he saw the King of the Cats crouching there he stopped and bared his terrible teeth. The King of the Cats bent himself to spring. Then Old-fellow Badger turned round and went lumbering back.
“Oh, by my claws and fur,” said Quick-to-Grab, “you are the real King of the Cats. Let me be your Councillor. Let me advise your Majesty in the times that will be so difficult for your subjects and yourself. Know that the Cats of Ireland are impoverished and oppressed. They are under a terrible tyranny.”
“Who oppresses my vassals, retainers and subjects?” said the King of the Cats.
“The Eagle-Emperor. He has made a law that no cat may leave a man’s house as long as the birds (he makes an exception in the case of owls) have any business abroad.”
“I will tear him to pieces,” said the King of the Cats. “How can I reach him?”
“No cat has thought of reaching him,” said Quick-to-Grab, “they only think of keeping out of his way. Now let me advise your Majesty. None of our enemies must know that you have come into this country. You must appear as a common cat.”