Now they came to a row of small buildings, and here, in the days of his apprenticeship at the business, there had been a perfect harvest of cats; cats to be chased through fences, cats to be treed, cats to be caught by their fearful mistresses and hurried away to safety, at the sound of Van’s bark. But now there were left only a few veterans that backed up against walls and stood at bay, with two rows of sharp teeth and twenty claws to bury in him, if he ventured too near. Van respected these old, seasoned cats. Summer and winter they held their own and defied him, and knowing that Betsy held the whip, he was easily gotten past Cat Row.
Betsy heaved a sigh of relief, however, when the occasional spitting and sputtering, barking and growling, was over, with no really violent encounter, and they turned down past the carpenter shops, and came upon Pig-Pen Alley. Here was the grand game of all the games.
The pigs, in general, took no notice of Van, but in and out of the pens darted rats. At sight of Van they hurtled to cover in every direction. They knew the enemy!
But to-night there was no sport, for Betsy did not encourage him; instead she hurried him past these possible scenes of bloodshed.
Beyond Pig-Pen Alley they came upon Silver Street. Here lived two more collies, who barked at Van and Betsy from behind a high hedge. On from here they went up the grassy road, turned in at the gate, rounded a clump of spruces, and were in sight of Dr. Johns’ home.
Right here Van, with a sense of having been cheated out of the best part of the walk by Betsy’s womanish dislike for battle, decided for himself that the evening’s entertainment was not over—not his part of it, anyway. He turned suddenly, and went straight back by the way he had come.
When Betsy went up the steps of the honeysuckle porch, there was no Van at her heels. She called, but he was nowhere to be seen, and he made no answer.
Betsy whistled and called to him in vain. She went into the house greatly troubled.
“I don’t know what came over him, Aunt Kate. He seemed to forget something and go back for it.”
“We won’t wait for him, Betsy. He’ll come back before long, as gay as a lark.”