But the battle is too unequal; Black has to retreat hurriedly. He flees to the top of a small aspen, creeps out along one of its upper branches, and from there jumps into the hawthorn thicket encircling the base of the hill. He does not stop even there, but continues his flight through the thicket all the way round the hill. Every thorn that pricks him teases him and fills him with delight. He crawls from branch to branch like a great black caterpillar, while the others, who have long since forgotten all about him, go on with their game.
The rays of the morning sun sweep gleaming over the fields; the barley shines like spun silk, the oats like molten silver, while lake and pond and pit lie like mirrors. The buzzing of flies and the humming of bees rise incessantly into the hot, motionless air; above the burial mound the gnats dance in a swarm. The air is filled with sounds: the sweet trilling of the larks; the snorting of the harnessed horse from the road; the bleating of calves and the rattling of pails from the distant farm....
A halt has been called in the game; the tired kittens are resting.... Grey and Red, who had got the worst knocks, sulk together with their tails encircling their little round behinds.
Then Big Puss gets up.... The others half raise their sleepy eyelids; what on earth is he going to do now?
With the side of his paw he begins softly patting a little lump on the ground; the loose mould slides forward and the bump collapses.
At this he goes suddenly mad with excitement. Holding his forepaws stiffly in front of him, he leaps forward, like a monkey on a stick, in a series of jumps, at each plunge pushing up a little mouse-grey cushion of sand, which he simultaneously flings behind him with the backward sweep of his paws.
His brothers and sisters are now thoroughly roused; their eyes, which but a short time before were dull and bored, shine eagerly, their curled-up backs straighten out, and their paws are held stick-like in front of them, ready for the new, fascinating game.
He really is an Edison-cat, is Big Puss! There they had all been sitting bored to death, and now ... now he comes and makes grey mice spring up out of the ground and then disappear again! They must try the new game at once....
The next moment the six little splashes of colour are again rushing round like mad.... Even Black has jumped down from his branch to the ground, where he is soon busily engaged in crouching and leaping, creating and destroying the new little, maddening, earth-born mice. A splendid game for little pussy-cats!