He put Red in his sack, and the two thieves left the yard together.
BIG-KITTEN TURNS WILD CAT
One autumn evening, as huge, billowy clouds are drifting across the orange-gold western sky, Big-cat wakes in his lair and feels the call to action. The noise of day has died from the fields, and the cows with their watching eyes have gone to rest for the night....
He slinks across naked, deserted fields, where the wild camomile lifts its cheerful face above the white-grey stubble. Like all great hunters, he feels the need of a constant change of hunting-grounds; hence his journey through the cold, dry September night, lighted by the pale, shining, half-grown moon.
Over hill and along hawthorn hedge he hurries; catches a lark in her nest, and a mouse by a daring leap from a post—and at daybreak lies down for his day’s rest behind a yellow grass-tuft in a dry, secluded gravel-pit.
Towards noon he is awakened by the sound of paws in the shingle. He should just have remained lying still among the grass—which was grey-yellow and withered black in colour, and not unlike his own marking—but he forgot himself and ran.
The big, spotted hound got quite a shock; he stepped for a moment and looked back. Two men with guns, one of whom was “Uncas’” master, were approaching, talking together and pulling at their pipes.
Uncas seized his opportunity and tore after the cat.
The men began shouting and whistling; but as far as the dog was concerned the die was cast. Nothing could stop him now—away he went at a wild gallop!
Just ahead, the river flows in a long, graceful curve, its cold, black waters scaring the yellow autumnal landscape.