“Don’t be afraid now, Blackie,” the lady would say. “You’ll be all right in a little while. Nothing shall hurt you.”
And Mrs. Thompson spoke in such a gentle voice, just the kind that dogs and cats like to hear, that Blackie felt better.
“I guess it will be all right,” thought the black cat. “I’ll try to go to sleep, and when I wake up I may be in the nice country.”
Blackie curled up in a little ball in the basket, and tried to go to sleep. But it was hard work. The basket kept bobbing up and down, and then, after a while, Blackie felt herself being set down, basket and all. Then followed a strange rumbling sound, like distant thunder. Blackie remembered that, for she knew what thunder showers were, and she did not like them, nor rain.
“Oh, dear!” thought the black cat. “I hope it isn’t going to lighten. I can’t bear that. Still it can’t hurt me in the basket.”
But it did not seem to be a storm. The low, rumbling noise kept up, and Blackie felt herself, basket and all, being gently “jiggled,” as she said afterward. Then Blackie began to feel sleepy.
“Oh, I know where I am now!” she suddenly thought. “I’m on a railroad train! Just as when Arthur and Mabel brought me from the country! Mrs. Thompson has brought me to the railroad car in the basket, and that’s what makes the rumbling sound. It’s the car wheels. Now I can go to sleep in peace, and when I awaken I’ll be in the nice country.”
How long she slept Blackie did not know, but when she did wake up she found herself being lifted up in the basket again.
“I guess we must be in the country,” she thought. “Now I shall have some nice milk, and perhaps I may see my brothers and sisters.”
Blackie felt herself being carried out in the air, for she could feel the gentle Summer breeze blowing on her through the cracks in the basket. Then she heard a lot of strange noises which frightened her. There were shouts and yells, the puffing of engines, the ringing of bells and the blowing of whistles.