"HIS GREATEST ENEMY WAS A BIG BLACK TOM-CAT."
"One day we were out for our morning walk—just as we go now, Charlie—when he spied this hated cat perched up on a high rock that overhung the lane. He was peering down at us, and I suppose he thought we should not see him. But 'Tim's eyes looked everywhere when we were out together,' I used to say. At any rate, he saw his enemy up there at once, and made after him at full speed. The frightened cat did not seem to know what to do, and in his flurry did the worst thing he could have done. Behind him stretched a field of barley, and the foolish animal rushed straight into it. I called to Tim, but he did not hear, or pretended not to.
"The next thing I saw was Tim coming along, wagging his tail, the tom-cat dead between his teeth.
"HE STOOD UP ON HIS HIND-LEGS."
"I scolded Tim, and beat him; but he could not understand that he had not done a very virtuous deed. For my own part, I was not sorry the cat had been killed; he was a great nuisance in the neighbourhood, and often used to steal our chickens. So I could not find the heart to give Tim all the beating he deserved; and when he stood up on his hind-legs, half-sorrowfully, half-beseechingly, looking into my face, I felt that he had only acted according to his nature, and that what was wrong in us to do might not be a sin in him. Therefore I took the dear old dog back again into my favour, and forgave him his disobedience in not coming when I called him. The darling old fellow bore me no spite, and soon he was gambolling along again at my side, as though nothing had happened."
"Quite right, quite right!" interposed King Charlie at this point; "but go on with the story."
"We walked on until we came to a farm-yard," I continued. "All of a sudden Tim rushed forward, then back again to me, barking loudly, as though mad.
"'What is it, Tim? What is it? Good dog! good fellow!' I cried to him, but no good; he seemed distracted about something.