They kept watch for her early and late—and the farmer often did sentry duty half the day with loaded gun; he would settle her, sure enough....
But she was cunning and cautious—and the hours of vigil too long for the farmer! So they decided to set a trap.
She walked straight into it! That was not surprising, for she was completely without experience of traps.
There she was; at last they had the criminal!
“The grey she-cat! Yes, I thought as much!” shouted the farmer, swearing.... Yes, he remembered that gourmand well!
It was she who ate only the heads of rats. And once, two years ago, she had been found with a chicken in her jaws. She would have been shot there and then, had not the foreman sworn that the chicken was dead before she found it. Well, now at last they knew the truth—the beast must be drowned!
Grey Puss suspected no evil when she was taken to the scullery, which she knew so well, and released from the trap. Furthermore, thirsty and ravenous as she was, she accepted their hospitality in the form of a large bowl of milk.... They thought she should have something in reserve for her long journey.
She sat down, cat-like, with her tail curled round her behind, and in a moment of weakness allowed her former friend, the foreman, to stroke her back.
Just as she was finishing and was contentedly licking her mouth, stiff, horny fingers grabbed her and picked her up as if she had been a kitten. Other fingers opened a black abyss beneath her—and, with Box yelling and leaping round her, she was thrust quickly into a sack.
For the first time she began to suspect something wrong. She struggled violently and clutched with her claws—but down she went nevertheless.