One day just after his lesson Box meets a little red cat-devil out in the garden with an eel-skin in its mouth.
Black cats and grey cats were bad enough—but red cats turned him into a raving maniac!
He chases after the thief, who makes for the rye-field. The cheeky little red-skin does not trouble to abandon her “catch,” and even has the sangfroid to stop in her flight to dig it down!
The delay was almost fatal—and had she not been lucky enough, when crossing a strip of fallow ground on her way to the cornfield, to run across Grey Puss, who was stalking young peewits, there is little doubt as to how things would have ended.
The old she-cat, realizing the state of affairs, unhesitatingly takes her kitten’s place. She runs right across Box’s nose and inveigles him after her into the cornfield. To do battle in the open is not her intention at all; she knows far subtler tactics!
Once among the corn, she quickly contrives to lose sight of the dog; and then lies down in ambush, waiting an opportunity to attack in the rear.
Box is not smart enough to suspect her design. Feeling, as always, that he is the undisputed lord of the fields, he rushes about barking angrily and aggressively. Matters are taking their usual course, he thinks!
That devil of a cat has of course hidden herself somewhere, and imagines his nose cannot find her—as if a cat were not the simplest of all creatures to track down.... Why, every straw touched by a cat simply stank!
Box is easy to deceive, and runs right into the trap set for him by the little field tiger.
He has not the slightest idea how it happened—but this he knows: that the clawed she-devil is sitting on his back again, and is already tearing his skin to shreds.