She forgot her happy days of kittenhood and went back to nature and independence, her claws turned against every living being.
It was not an easy path she had chosen. The work of catching and killing at times entailed almost insuperable difficulties.
After all, what wild-beast attributes were needed to capture a little half-tame mouse or pigeon in a barn; to sneak in and lick up milk from the stall; to dig out bloater-heads from the manure-heap? No, now she had to begin all over again and practise the most elementary things: to creep noiselessly forward, make her spring, and disappear like lightning.
She adopted the method the retriever employs to carry small birds, and applied it to mice. As soon as the rodents were caught and killed, she arranged them in a row on the ground; and then packed them side by side in her mouth, so that only the heads and tails hung out.
One morning she took a hare home to the young ones, and, a few days later, a full-grown weasel—tangible proofs that she had learnt now to overpower and kill the most refractory opponents.
After a short time she learned even to bring down the swallow as it swept with dazzling speed over the earth.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE TRICKSTER
On the top of the mound the kittens are playing, in and out among the old tombstones.