So he crept softly up to the heap, and was just about to taste a fine, juicy one, when the cat saw him. “I said, I would not touch, or taste a mouse,” she said, “but I did not say I would not scare one, and I cannot see these nice apples spoiled—so here goes.” With these words, she made a rush for the mouse, making all the noise she could; which is not usual with cats, you know, which go very softly, in order not to scare the mice before they can catch them.
Cooky, of course, darted away to his hole in a hury, and there peeped out carefully. “Now,” said he to himself, “that cat has a kind look; I’ve a good mind to try, and make a bargain with her, so that I can get something to eat once in a while. Perhaps I can make her promise not to eat me, but it will do no harm to try, and everybody knows that Grandmother Puss is a cat of her word.” So just as Puss was about to start for the other end of the cellar, for a tussle with the old rat, she heard a small squeaking voice, which said, “Please, Grandmother Puss, I want to make a bargain with you.” “A bargain with me!” said Puss, looking about in surprise for the small voice. “What do you mean?”
“Why, I want to come into the cellar whenever I like, and eat whatever scraps I can find, besides taking away a little for my poor, lame sister. Now, if you will let me do so, and promise not to hurt me, I will do anything in the world that you ask me to do—that is right—and that I am able to do.”
The Old Rat Stealing Cheese.
This was a big speech for a little mouse, but Grandmother Puss only thought how Cooky could help her in the matter of catching the old gray rat. She turned it over in her mind for some time, keeping one eye on Cooky, who, in his eagerness, had come outside his hole, and at last said: “Do you know Mr. Gray Rat, Cooky?” “Yes, Madame,” said Cooky, with great politeness. “Do you know where he is now?” pursued Pussy. “Yes, Madame, I think I do,” replied Cooky, growing bolder every minute. “Well,” said Grandmother Puss, solemnly, “that rat has caused my good mistress a great deal of trouble, and if you can in any way tempt him within my reach, so that I can catch him, I promise never to harm you, or to allow my grandson, Peter, to do so.” “It’s a bargain,” said Cooky, “you hide here behind this box, and when you see me run by, with the rat after me, you can give one spring, and catch the rogue; but please be quick about it, or he may catch me.”
Death of the Old Rat.
So Puss hid behind the box; Cooky went as near old Gray Rat’s hole as he dared, then, giving a frightened squeak, as though he had just caught sight of his enemy, turned and ran with all his speed toward the place where Puss lay concealed. The old rat heard Cooky’s squeak, and was after him in a moment squealing out, “I’ll have you now, master Cooky, and you’ll make me a nice supper.” But long before he could reach Cooky, Grandmother Puss pounced upon the gray old rascal, and tore him to pieces in a trice, though I fear she found her prize too tough for dinner! Then Puss told Cooky to come and drink milk from her dish, which he did, and then ran off, well pleased, to his hole, taking some bread with him to feed his poor, lame sister.
Although Grandmother Puss thought her grandson. Peter, much too lazy to try and catch Cooky, still she thought it safer to forbid him to go near him, or to disturb him in any way. Now Peter didn’t want to catch Cooky, or any other mouse, so long as he was free to do so.