His howls are so loud, and Grey Puss’ growls so deep and threatening, that they are heard at the burial-mound. The kittens start up from their day-doze and, fully understanding what is taking place, begin to strut about with stiff legs and erect tails, uttering little half-growls at intervals. “Madness” goes one better: he makes off through the corn towards the scene of action....
He is a real little cat-sportsman!
THE SMOKE-DOG
The nihilist was really beginning to reform. What the farmer’s wife failed to achieve with her dog lessons, Grey Puss succeeded in doing with her needle-like claws.
But Box had his allies!
One Sunday afternoon, when the farm hands felt the time hang heavily, one of them suggested a visit to the burial-mound. Box was always running out there and barking at something—probably there was a fox in the hole.
To be prepared for emergencies, one of the men snatched up an armful of hay, and off they went, the dog dancing excitedly in front. Box, who understood at once what was on foot, felt fearfully important—and the moment the mound came in sight he set up a mighty war-cry; and by so doing gave the kittens plenty of warning.
For a long time the inhabitants of the mound lay listening to the loud barking; then they heard the dull tramp of “humans,” and a little later the crackling of hay—and now a huge, foul-smelling creature entered the tunnel.
Slowly and silently it crept forward; dirty and grey, it swayed and swelled; soon it completely filled the passage.
Grey Puss growled threateningly and crouched low on the ground, her face towards the oncoming monster. Big-kitten lay at her side, ready to lend instant assistance; while “Madness” hissed and bared his teeth, prepared to fight to the death.