"One of the best," the trooper emphasized. "Have you ever been arrested
before?"
"No!"
"Then you can't know court procedure," the policeman said. "Now Benton
is a great jurist. He's really wasting himself in a small town. He
spends most of his time studying the decisions of various high courts,
including the Supreme Court, and deciding what he might have done were
he to rule on the same point of law. He shouldn't be handling minor
cases and he knows it, and it irritates him if one takes up his time. He
always wants to lay it on with a heavy hand when that happens, and he
could send you to jail. On the other hand, when a defendant's
reasonable and admits his guilt, Benton's usually inclined to go light.
Now you've already told me you're guilty and I'll have to testify as to
that. Do you understand?"
Andy grinned his appreciation. The trooper, in the only way he possibly
could, was telling him how to get off lightly. Andy said,
"I understand."
An hour later, he faced Judge Benton, a stern-faced little man who had a
disconcerting habit of peering over instead of through his glasses. The
trooper recited the charges. Justice Benton glanced briefly at the
papers pertaining to the case and turned to Andy,
"How does the defendant plead?"
"Guilty," Andy murmured.
"Young man," Justice Benton said sternly, "in flouting the laws of this
great state, you have set yourself above the whole people whose duly
elected representatives formulate those laws. However, you are youthful
and the court is not unaware of the fact that youth is too often
prompted by passion and inexperience. So the maximum sentence shall not
be imposed. At the same time, you receive fair warning that henceforth
you are to keep the peace with this plaintiff whom you have so
grievously wronged. Nor must your present breach of the law go
unpunished. In lieu of fine, this court sentences you to--"
Justice Benton paused dramatically, then finished,
"Ten days in jail."
* * * * *
Whimsically deciding that Frosty wanted to accompany him into the swamp
so he could see for himself what happened to the muskrats, Andy would
never be aware of the fact that a chance shot had hit the mark. The
kitten was curious about the muskrats' fate, but above and beyond that,
he wanted something else. In electing to become Andy's partner, he had
chosen much better than he knew. Self-sufficient and willing to
surrender none of his independence, the partnership had been affected by
a circumstance over which he had not the slightest control. Liking Andy
and wanting a strong ally of his caliber, Frosty had come to love his
partner.
A confirmed prowler, he would continue to prowl and to go his own way
whenever that seemed expedient. But he went gladly back to the house and
eagerly looked forward to meeting Andy when he arrived. There were even
times when he voluntarily cut his prowling short to have his partner's
company. He also went into the swamp partly because Andy was going
there.
He became aware that they were being followed shortly after Andy planted
the third pair of muskrats, but at first all he knew was that something
trailed him. Uneasy backward glances and growing nervousness were lost
on his friend, who was intent on getting his work done. This was wholly
understandable, for it never occurred to Frosty that Andy was
responsible for him, any more than he was obligated to watch out for his
partner. Never for an instant questioning that he was well able to take
care of himself, he never doubted that his partner could do likewise.
Finally, able to bear the tension no longer, Frosty had to find out for
himself just who was trailing them.
His ears had already informed him that it was a man. No fox, bobcat,
coyote, or anything else that belonged to the wild, had ever walked so
heavily or so clumsily. Blowing against him, the wind brought no
identifying scent to his nose. Frosty sprang to the boulder's top
because it was a vantage point from which, while he still used his ears,
he could use his eyes to better advantage.
He had one fleeting glimpse of their pursuer just after Andy turned. Two
hundred yards behind them, to the side instead of directly on their
tail, Luke Trull saw Andy turn and dropped behind a boulder. Frosty
unsheathed and sheathed his claws while his tail twitched angrily.
He knew this man as an enemy much more deadly than any other he had ever
faced. Even the great horned owl that had seized him had worked less
injury than Luke Trull. Vividly Frosty remembered the ride, tortured
hours in the sack before the coyote came to release him, and the
hardships after that. But there was something more. The various
creatures that would have killed and eaten Frosty had merely been
pursuing life in the only way they could live it. Luke Trull had
belittled him and struck at his pride. But he was powerful, and though
Frosty did not fear him, it was prudent to avoid a battle. He slipped
from the boulder, drifted into thick brush and waited.
When Andy came back and called, Frosty remained in hiding. This was his
affair and he expected no other living thing ever to fight in his
behalf, but neither could he be guided by any judgment save his own. At
the same time, he realized that, obviously, Andy was not afraid of Luke
Trull, and his respect for his partner increased. But he would not show
himself as long as Luke was near.
Andy's search brought him very near, but Frosty remained perfectly
still. His was the patience of a cat. Few other animals could wait so
long or so uncomplainingly for exactly the right moment, be so sure of
that moment when it arrived, and act accordingly. But one mistake was
one too many, and he had no intention of making any more. Finally, Andy
went back in the direction from which they had come. After an interval,
Luke Trull rose to follow him.
Frosty stayed in hiding. He had no idea as to what was happening here,
or why his partner and Luke Trull should be together in the swamp, and
he did not give a thought to possible danger for Andy. Frosty had
accepted him as a partner largely because he was strong.
Frosty moved only when he was sure both had gone.
He wanted to go back to the house and wait for Andy there, but he did
not return directly to the slough over which Andy had carried him. Only
when forced to do so would he enter water, and he knew perfectly well
that he could not cross the slough. He must find his own trail.
Because he was in thick brush, he made no effort to hide but he did
remain wholly alert. Slowing when he emerged from the brush into a grove
of trees, he saw water sparkling. He went cautiously forward.
He looked out on a relatively quiet section of the same slough, and as
he gazed, a big bass broke water and splashed back in. A log floated
against the bank on the other side, and a sora teetered on it. In a
little eddy given over to lily pads, a heron balanced on one leg and
waited with poised bill for an unwary fish to venture near. Frosty slunk
back into the brush and slipped into another grove of trees.
Suddenly he halted in his tracks.
High in one of the trees, a tamarack, he had seen something move. Little
more than a flicker, it was enough to make him aware of an alien
presence. Flattening himself, he held perfectly still and searched.
Presently he saw clearly the thing that had moved. It was another great
horned owl. Twenty feet from the ground, it perched close to the trunk
of the gloomy tamarack and enjoyed a nap. Frosty remained where he was.
Experience had taught him what these great birds could do, and again he
wanted to escape notice because, if it came to a battle, he was not sure
he would win it. The great owls were strong and unbelievably ferocious,
and a motion might bring this one down upon him. Never taking his eyes
from it, Frosty decided exactly what he would do if the owl swooped at
him. If possible, he would get back into the brush.
He heard Andy come back to resume the search, but again he dared not
move. His friend went away.
Twilight draped its gray mantle over the swamp, and finally the owl took
wing. Frosty still did not move, for the owl merely soared gracefully
over the slough, dipped to pluck a swimming muskrat from the water and
winged into a dead tree to devour its prey. Frosty slunk away.
In the tamarack, the owl had been an unknown factor. It might be hungry
and it might not. Now it was known. Having the muskrat, it would eat.
After eating, it would not be hungry. Therefore, the chances of its
hunting anything else in the near future were small. Frosty resumed his
search for a way out of the swamp.
A while later, he knew that there was none. He was on a little island
which he could not possibly leave unless he wanted to swim, and he would
not swim. Hungry, Frosty gave himself over to finding something to eat.
He prowled back through the brush without discovering anything, and when
hunger emboldened him, he stalked among the trees. He struck at and
missed a rabbit that promptly jumped into and swam across the slough.
The small island had never supported much life anyway, and the owl had
been living on it and hunting every night for almost two weeks. Many of
the island's furred inhabitants had already fallen to it, and whatever
had escaped knew it was here. The mice and gophers that remained
ventured from their burrows only when necessity forced them to do so.
Hearing a bird stir, Frosty marked the tree in which it roosted and made
his way there. He climbed and was ten feet from the ground when the bird
took wing and rattled off into the darkness. Frosty descended the tree.
He took a stance before a mouse's burrow and waited. But the mouse did
not emerge.
Dawn was breaking and Frosty was still hungry when he went back to look
for the owl. He found it still in the dead tree. He settled down to
watch, for once again the owl was an unknown factor. It had fed last
night, but it might be in the mood to feed again and the kitten was of
no mind to serve as its next dinner. If he knew where his enemy was, he
would also know what it was doing. He watched the owl all day.
Again, with the coming of dusk, the owl winged out to get another
muskrat. Little interested in the muskrats' fate and unable to catch one
himself because none climbed out on the island, Frosty could not know
that the owl had found a bonanza here. Its plan was to remain, with
little need to exert itself, until it had caught every one of the ten
muskrats Andy had planted. Then it would seek another hunting ground.
Knowing that once more it was safe to prowl, for the owl would not hunt
until it was again hungry, Frosty knew also that he must have something
to quiet his own raging hunger. But if he hunted frantically or hastily,
he would frighten his prey instead of catching it. Returning to the
mouse's den he had watched last night, he settled himself down to wait.
. . . Two hours later, the mouse poked a cautious nose out, then came
all the way from its burrow. Frosty pounced and pinned his prey.
The mouse was a mere tidbit, but it eased the sharpest hunger pangs.
Frosty sought another burrow. He caught nothing, and again with dawn he
sought out the owl. It had gone back to the tamarack and was almost
hidden by the tree's foliage. Following its customary routine, it went
forth at dusk to catch another muskrat, then winged into the dead tree.
In the hope that the owl might have dropped some part of its meal,
Frosty nosed beneath the tamarack. He found only furry pellets; such
parts as the owl hadn't eaten were cached in the tamarack's upper
branches and Frosty did not dare climb the tree because the dead stub in
which the owl perched was too near. Desperately, the kitten sought out
another mouse's burrow, but when he found one, he shed his desperation
and gave way to patience. He caught and ate the mouse.
Seeking another burrow, he was thwarted when the gentle wind that always
murmured over the swamp became a stiff breeze. He could not possibly
hold still, for the wind ruffled his fur and the mouse knew he waited.
Frosty prowled after daybreak. He knew he was taking a chance, but it
was not a great one, for so far the owl had hunted only at twilight.
When a crow cawed, the kitten swung at once toward the sound. The crow
was across the slough and thus out of reach, but perhaps it would come
nearer and it offered the only present chance to get food.
Coming out on that quiet part of the slough where he had seen the log,
Frosty discovered that last night's stiff wind had moved it. Now,
instead of lying against the bank, it angled out into the water, with
its nearer end only two feet away and its farther against the opposite
bank. Seeing opportunity, Frosty seized it.
He sprang, landed on the log, ran swiftly across and leaped into tall
swamp grass on the other side. Crossing the log had been a very
dangerous moment for he was completely exposed while doing so. Now he
was safe, and since peril was behind him, it could be forgotten. Frosty
resumed stalking the crow.
He found it beside a branch of the slough, pecking at a small dead fish
that had washed up there and calling at intervals. Frosty slunk through
some tall grass and came to a place where foliage grew only in scattered
places. He stopped to study the situation.
When the crow lowered its head to peck at the fish, he glided swiftly
forward and hid behind a tuft of grass. He waited quietly when the bird
looked around and glided to another tuft when it resumed feeding.
Suddenly the crow saw him.
With a startled squawk, it beat frantically into the air, struggled to
gain altitude and cawed derisively after it had done so. Frosty ran
forward to get what was left of the little fish and the crow jeered at
him again.
Winging over the kitten, presently the crow saw the owl in the dead tree
and its raucous insults became a sharp, clear call. Another crow
answered, and another. The owl was their enemy by night, when it came on
silent wings to pluck sleeping crows from their roosts, but they were
its masters by day.
The flock gathered and advanced to the attack. Diving on the owl, they
pecked with sharp beaks and beat with their wings. At first the owl
fought back, but they were too many and too swift. Followed by the
screaming crows, he winged across the swamp. The pursuit and the noise
attending it died in the distance.
Lacking the faintest notion that, however indirectly, he had saved this
colony of muskrats for Andy, Frosty finished his fish and went to hunt
gophers.
9