Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
THE GREAT SMALL CAT AND OTHERS
[Illustration: JIMINY CHRISTMAS: HIS FIRST APPEARANCE
He Was Probably a Graceless Vagabond, Born in the Gutter, With no
Pretensions to Breeding or Even Good Looks]
THE GREAT SMALL
CAT AND OTHERS
_Seven Tales_
BY MAY E. SOUTHWORTH
ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS AND
DECORATED BY PEDRO J. LEMOS
PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS SAN FRANCISCO
_Copyright, 1914_
PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY
SAN FRANCISCO
IN LOVING
MEMORY OF THURSDAY
MY OWN
INTRODUCTION
Everyone knows that there are all kinds of people; also there are all
kinds of cats, worthy and unworthy. No two are exactly alike, and by
those who do not class them in a bunch, but study them as individuals,
they are found to have decided characteristics all their own, ever
presenting strange surprises in a mixture of the unexpected higher
qualities of civilization and the evils of lowest barbarism. The appeal
of the kitten is almost universal, as there are few men, women or
children, even those who "shudder" at a real cat, who can resist the
subtle charm of these fuzzy lumps of playfulness. But cats, the alley
cat, your cat, my cat, anybody's cat, all cats are in need of some
brave champion, someone who will endeavor to portray their better side
and be able to so increase for them the appreciation of mankind that
they will come to what is only rightfully their own. Whatever your
faith or practice may be touching cats, you are bound to admit that
they must surely have some kind of mission here on earth. The trend of
modern beneficence shows the day of even the cat is on the way, the day
when they shall be better understood, making the world kinder to them
in recognizing that these often sadly abused little creatures, have
the feelings common to flesh and blood and are times without number,
actuated by human thoughts and impulses. Recent years have done much in
the way of atonement for persistent error in regard to their nature,
by thrusting upon them a balance long their due in the form of many
happy literary tributes, proving, in spite of much withering scorn,
that environment has much more to do with their lack of worth than has
original sin.
The lowly state of the average cat, just tolerated for its usefulness
as a natural rat executioner, is unworthy of its better capabilities,
and to the heart of a lover of the species, a cruelty. It is
companionship which counts the most with cats, and when, instead of
being a comfortable family institution as was intended, their nature
being of the warmest and most sociable kind, they are mercilessly
relegated to the cold cellar or outhouse to battle for life and
sustenance, they are more miserable than anyone can imagine who does
not know how a cat longs for home life and company. If left in this
way to struggle for a meager existence, without a word of kindness, and
chased for their very lives if they presume, in their lonely longing,
to timidly enter the family refinement, is it a wonder that under
these conditions, these dwellers in solitude develop only the worse and
uglier traits in their disposition?
Although cats are brimful of human whims and moods and are also very
human in their devotion to home, order and cleanliness, they are
decidedly slow in attaching themselves to humans and not quick to give
them their friendship. Unlike a dog, they maintain a rather haughty
independence in the matter of reciprocity, and after they have decided
that you are worthy of the honor of their confidence, and they have
given it, it can only be retained by constant entreaty and on the
strictest terms of obligation, never forced. To know something of
the queer brain and really glowing heart beneath the mystery of their
graceful furry coats, a heart which they guard almost fiercely against
mere "curious" intimacy, it is necessary to make an effort; but as
every cat lover knows, they will surely repay such effort in lavish
response. And above all, in trying to get acquainted with cats, show
them the compliment of companionship which they truly and cordially
appreciate, for they, too, are in various ways "also human" and their
readiness to respond to intimacy of this kind is a most gratifying
surprise to the skeptical.
[Illustration]
The cat tails spring up in the hollow
But where can their late owners be?
The tale of their tails does not follow
When cat tails spring up in the hollow.
But the stream many secrets must swallow
So it may be their ghosts that we see.
So when cat tails spring up in the hollow
We surmise where their owners may be.
_Thomas Grant Springer_
[Illustration]
THE TALES IN THIS BOOK
PAGE
THE GREAT SMALL CAT 3
The tale of the black "stray," whose mother-love and home-love
steeled her to repeatedly brave the waters of the dark,
swift-flowing river, and how this "bunch hard to beat" overcame
the cold heart of the "widow lady" of the ranch.
THURSDAY 27
The orphan foundling, fed from a spoon; her coquettish tyranny
over her friend and playmate, a magnificent Irish setter; and
the story of her tragic end when answering the home-call.
A MINE, A MINER, AND A CAT 43
The story of the loyal comradeship of the miner and the cat,
and of how Puss proved to be the cleverer prospector of the two
and discovered the bonanza mine.
AÏDA AND SAADI 61
Twin blue-blooded aristocrats, whose temperamental pranks and
mischievous adventures caused startling surprises and frequent
shocks; their marauding, murderous transgressions and how they
were finally cured.
MAROONED 77
The story of the intense hatred of the shanghaied cat; his
dignified aloofness; his "tabasco temper" over the pranks of
the sailors; and his final survival of the wreck, from which,
after braving the ocean waves, he reached the shore and gained
his freedom amid the mystery of the wild.
MAIDA 99
The strange but true story of the Maltese mother-cat who
adopted a brood of white rats, and the record of her
disciplinary methods in raising and controlling her alien
foster-children.
A MEMORY 109
The tale of Jiminy Christmas, a tramp cat, whose wild and
vagabond nature caused him to yield, intermittently, to the
call of the open, and to leave, unceremoniously, his protected
home of plenty and comfort; his last pathetic return.
THE PICTURES IN THIS BOOK
JIMINY CHRISTMAS: HIS FIRST APPEARANCE Frontispiece
He was probably a graceless vagabond, born in the
gutter, with no pretensions to breeding or even good
looks.
FACING PAGE
THE GREAT SMALL CAT 8
Although the small stray was minus all signs of
pedigree, she held her head high and was accorded the
respect and good treatment due a lady.
THURSDAY 34
As she never attained the full stature of an ordinary
cat, she always looked but half-grown, but was the very
perfection of dainty symmetry, her coat a solid black,
almost blue in its depths.
THE CAT 52
Handsome, shining and saucy, the kitten had grown into
the most splendid bigness of his race: all muscle and
nerve, unusually broad of chest and looking as if bred
to the mountain fastness and able to endure all sorts of
pioneer hardships.
AÏDA AND SAADI 72
"Oh, lady! You do not suspect us of having seen any of
your birds this morning?"
MAROONED 84
Neither disappointment nor ugly temper had broken his
fierce sense of injury or his indomitable spirit.
MAIDA 102
In long-suffering patience Maida would stretch herself
in a streak of sunshine and survey the riotously
incorrigible mites, indulging in their favorite pastime
of playing tag all over her body.
JIMINY CHRISTMAS, THE FREE SPIRIT 120
Born free, he kept his own wanton will free from
enslavement to the end, living his own life in honor and
honesty in an out-doors all his own.
[Illustration]
THE GREAT SMALL CAT
Once upon a time, a while ago, during pleasant hours spent in the "land
of big cows and small horses," I met one of the most modest of black
mother cats, but one with such a pathetic experience in her life as
to make her stand alone, not as a cat, but as _the_ cat. At any rate,
the story as told by the young ranchman is absolutely true and surely
worth the telling, if only to prove that cats are singularly human in
their love for their offspring, and are all mother in sacrifice and
thoughtful care, giving life itself if necessary in unselfish devotion.
The cat was small, bright-eyed and clean but apparently of the most
commonplace and ordinary variety, and not distinguished by any special
attractiveness as to species. Still, on hearing the "story of her life"
as related by this man, one of her most faithful benefactors, of how
she cheated fate and battled with fear and death, conquering every
natural antipathy, it made one feel that it was an event to meet her.
To encounter such a plain unassuming little creature who had given
positive proof of harboring in her small head the brain of a diplomat
and of being so surprisingly shrewd, and so gloriously fearless,
was an incident of such stirring revelation as to make it of marked
consequence.
In telling the story, the cattleman said it was partly owing to the
accident of the little mother-cat's being black in color that she was
here on the ranch in a little corner that she felt was home and that
meant happiness to her. There may be in some out-of-the-way corners
of the world, people who still believe in magic and folk-lore and
with them the fair fame of black cats ever suffers from that benighted
superstition of ancient times, that they are creatures of witches and
devils. But the more modern belief makes double reparation for this
uncanny ignorance by giving them the reputation of not only always
bringing good luck in their wake, but lovers as well.
Larry was squatting upon his heels, his broad back leaning carelessly
against the "bunk house," while he gazed reminiscently down over his
pipe at the modest bunch of black fur neatly snuggled in the dust
at his side, all four paws tucked out of sight, when, in Western
cameraderie, I coaxed from him the story I had wondered so much about
and longed to hear in detail. As he began to tell me about it in
the lazy, good-natured, provincial dialect of the plains, one hand
strayed caressingly to the head of the "little pard" and lingered there
lovingly while he talked and smoked.
"Oh, she's just a small stray that loped in on our range, but y'u can
bet ye'r life she's a winner all right and a bunch hard to beat. She's
'just cat,' but there ain't nothing nowhere purtier, and y'u couldn't
go out in a whole round-up of felines and rope a gentler one, though
she's grit clear through to the backbone."
The "bunch hard to beat" looked up into her friend's face with bright,
inquiring eyes, understanding the love and approval in his glance
if not the great distinction conferred upon her of being the bright,
particular star in the story he was relating.
"Well, y'u see, it's this-a-way," explained Larry, in his pleasant
drawl, removing his briar and stiffening his muscles: "Cats is
mighty useful things. What would the blamed country be without them
anyway?--an' it's no way reasonable that we could run _this_ ranch
without this little peacherino. She's just a soft pretty thing, but
she's sure got spunk enough for a wild bull. Lordy me! we're just plumb
foolish over her, and she don't step on nobody's bunions no more, y'u
bet! She ain't that sort. She's so modest and quiet it beats all how
good it makes y'u feel just to have her round; a sort of spiritual
uplift and missionary 'home sweet home' broke gentle to the gang."
Evidently these men, really manly men, some of them as brown and
wrinkled as an old leather shoe, were the little cat's sincere
admirers. As I listened to the story, I stole her from the ranchman's
hand and gathered her, almost reverently, in my lap, more then as a
testimony to the big-heartedness and sterling human qualities of the
Western cattlemen, than as the distinguished heroine of the narrative.
It seems that at the noon hour, about the middle of one April, while
the men were idly loitering on the shady side of the adobe, waiting
for the hour to strike which called them to work again, a dusty,
fuzzy little black streak scooted in from the direction of the road
and dropped all in a heap, breathless and exhausted, at their feet.
The "déboo" of this miserable little stranger had been unannounced
and the suddenness of this rather dramatic entrance upon the scene of
the unexpected, though tiny débutante, caused quite a flutter among
the men, and pipes and cigarettes were hastily laid aside in order
that they might look over at close range this "feeble short horn."
The bedraggled little "black streak" proved on examination to be the
thinnest, most woebegone, footsore, starved and wholly exhausted black
kitten ever seen, whose tired legs had been able to carry her just
this far--not a step farther could she have gone. She was indeed a
pitiful creature, half-dead with fear and fatigue, and in looks so
painfully appealing that she waked compassion in even the stoniest
heart. Evidently she had traveled far, without food or rest, as she
was completely done for. Why she came, or from where, nobody could
tell, but probably chased and hunted until absolutely worn out, she
had in her extremity ventured into this refuge of humans, taking her
chances. To the everlasting honor of these rough ranch hands, their
tough bachelor hearts were touched by this helpless, sick-looking
little mite of a kitten, and they decided that she was to stay and be
made comfortable. Feeling half-ashamed of their compassionate impulse
and in order to hide even from one another any unmanly sentiment in the
matter, one said:
"H'its powerful good luck to have a black cat hit the camp! I like
the color, boys, and have a hunch it'll bring us great; let's rope and
brand her for our diggins."
So the "good luck" was not scatted off, but was introduced to the ranch
and seemed very grateful for their soft-hearted hospitality. When she
had lapped some good warm milk into her vacant stomach she gained
sufficient strength to express her satisfaction with what had been
"handed out to her," and showed a most beautiful willingness to stay by
it.
The "hostess" of this ranch was a large, wide "widow woman," in
eloquent vernacular "grass," one of those very capable, hard-working
individuals whose precarious temper even when all went well with her,
was never to be imposed upon. Her brisk, ponderous tread was a power,
real and felt, and not to be trifled with for a moment in any mood. The
boys realized that she would be "plumb discouraging" to any scheme for
the adoption of this tiny waif, and knew the utter futility of trying
to pull her heartstrings in any kind of sympathy for "only a cat." So
they turned all their energies into the most guilty, barefaced personal
coaxing and cajolery in order to get any kind of concession in her
department for this additional feeder. As they expected, she was about
as responsive as a Chinese Joss and as hard as a stone to any possible
allurements the kitten might develop as a home-maker, and the very most
they could gain from the "old grouch" was a grudging consent to just
"let her stay round till some other place can be found for her."
"And her face wasn't a mite smiling or even friendly as she said it."
So the poor little kitten, being only on sufferance, accepted such
crusts of charity as came her way, and was mighty grateful; for she was
very hungry, very weary, and good food had long been a strange thing in
her small stomach. It was plain the kitten had never known anything of
home or a fireside and was simply of the humble garden variety of cat.
Yet she was not an outcast or a tramp by nature, for she proved very
quick to fall into ways which contributed to the cosiness of the cabin
kitchen, even with the scant encouragement she received. The feminine
eternal heart-throb of home-making was certainly there in her breast,
for just like "other folks" she took her allotted place in the corner
back of the big stove and was singularly human in the snug enjoyment of
the comfort of it.
[Illustration: THE GREAT SMALL CAT
Although the Small Stray Was Minus All Signs of Pedigree, She Held
Her Head High and Was Accorded the Respect and Good Treatment Due a
Lady]
In the cattle country the one momentary lull in affairs is when the
day's work is over and night has settled down over the lonesome miles
of ranch and the men are all gathered in a circle round the open fire.
In this good-fellowship under the big stars one night, they fell to
discussing their little black protégée, and the permission they had to
only "let her stay round." As they were almost maternally solicitous
that she should have a permanent home with them, they decided that as
her sponsors they were in a way responsible and had better get busy at
once and attend to her serious education, laying out the details of her
conduct on a straight and narrow path of duty.
Larry was the one selected to "break her gentle," and at his very first
opportunity was requested to "do the decent" and to start her off with
a strictly private and business tip, speaking for the whole outfit. In
recalling this incident in the game, Larry's big laugh rang out until
he wiped the tears away with a corner of the gay bandanna knotted about
his neck.
"I took this tenderfoot aside," he said, "and gave it to her personally
and straight, y'u bet. Come here, pard, says I, I've got to give it
to y'u private and special. We want y'u to camp in this yere diggins
for always, but, if y'u get a chance to stay, y'u've got to conduct
yereself decorus. This yere is a bachelor round-up with one skirt
that's the big boss of the whole outfit. What she says goes and y'u
want to get that into yere system from the start-off. We want to give
y'u a square deal with no superfluous language, but She's the cinch and
y'll get what's coming to y'u, all right, if y'u don't go cautious."
The recounter said that the very grave and polite way the kitten
took this "rounding-up spiritually" was killing, solemnly looking
him straight in the eye with painful concentration, her little nose
in nervous crinkles. Larry confessed that the big effort this small
vagrant made "to get the drift" of what he was trying to impress on
her mind, made him feel like a huge brute. Anyway, by some trick of
his slow, delicious drawl, the timely warning "sunk in" and found a
responsive chord in her consciousness. In some way she fathomed his
friendly intention and understood, at least, the magic timbre of his
soothing voice which flashed back entire confidence and drew to him
a friend, one who was infinitely shy, but one who would trust him
absolutely while life lasted.
These paternal young cowmen, having delivered their souls of this
religious act of discipline, "pulled the stake" and let her go free. By
the time the days of kittenhood had passed the "stray" had grown plump
and her coat glossy, and although minus all signs of pedigree, she held
her head high and had acquired a certain modest dignity, sufficient
to deceive a layman and to insure the respect and good treatment due
a lady. Evidently she had been careful to mind the warning and was
conducting herself "decorus." In return for their hospitality she
attended to her part of the ranch business by keeping the cabin and
pantry strictly clear of all rats and mice. Occasionally she gave chase
to the wild things good for cats, and at milking time, if she happened
to "hang round," the men were sure to give her a fine dessert of warm
milk. As the days and weeks went happily by for her, she unobtrusively
arranged her life to suit the pleasant place she had fallen into,
gaining an honest living by her skill, with a few luxuries thrown in
at unexpected intervals by the men, who would forget her for days at
a time, owing to her modest way of keeping in the background. If on
some lean and hungry days, when hunting had not been so successful,
she would sometimes wistfully sniff, with eager, yearning stomach and
longing, though decently distant eyes, the bountiful, savory mess of
the kitchen, or venture to rub too coaxingly near the bustling form
juggling the pots and pans with energetic vehemence, she was soon made
to understand that she had overstepped the bounds of her tolerance,
in trespassing on the particular domain of one who just endured her
unwelcome presence. Being feminine and an unusually sensible and
peaceable cat, she soon developed a surprising acuteness in diplomacy
and in warding off unnecessary trouble. After various mortifying
experiences she found it best to be "only handy" at such times as the
feasts were in progress, creeping most cautiously in, a-tiptoe on her
soft noiseless pads, just to be there in case any tidbits _should_ come
her way.
All might have been well, and life a long holiday, leading her in
pleasant ways to the end, had she not erred, and so innocently and
blindly erred. Of course it was scandalous, if natural, and not to be
tolerated for one moment by the already much overburdened landlady. The
downfall came as a terribly stiff jolt to poor kitty, for her heart had
swelled with guiltless pride over her sin and its achievement.
One sad Sunday morning she was discovered in her cosy corner, a very
picture of innocent content over the beautiful surprise she had created
for the family. There she lay with her eyes half-closed, softly beaming
in rapture on six very small, newly born infants at her breasts. As
she was "discovered" she looked up in her delirium of happiness with
a hesitating, half-apologetic sort of smile, as one longing for,
yet meeting, no response. Her anxiety was so exactly human that no
one could mistake her meaning or her little weak smile of hesitating
conciliation. But it froze in a flash when with frightened dismay she
heard the hustling housewife's loud and angry denunciation of "the
march that hussy had stolen on us," and the sentence of "immediate
death" or "transportation" pronounced on "her and her brood," in
stentorian and not-to-be-trifled-with tones.
These square men with square jaws were "all in a heap" over the
size and caliber of the shock their pet had handed out to them. The
smoldering spark of guardianship that had been fanned to a warm,
comfortable flame in their breasts was not so easily extinguished,
but they realized that all pleading and diplomacy with the outraged
Authority would be in vain this time. No pet on the ranch had ever,
in an unobtrusive way, gained so firm a hold on their stout hearts and
"their pile of hope was busted well" by this rude interruption to the
tremendous bid they had made on the bad-tempered woman's favor. Not
only did they hate to part with this shy, little, inoffensive protégée,
but that she had failed to "make good" in the eyes of the one whom, in
their fiercest rage they dared not oppose, and so had lost her home,
was a sickening disappointment. As they braced themselves for the worst
and stood there smiling indulgently down on the cat so snug in her bed,
there was a long and rather anxious pause during which they all seemed
tongue-tied, until at last one said in playful disgust:
"Humph! y'u've been plumb busy to-day, hav'n't y'u, old girl, and this
time, like all females, handing out trouble for yereself with both
hands."
They were both disgusted and "plenty sorrowful" over the terrible fiat,
but it was a case, on their part, of "have to," and a bad case, too.
Not that they were afraid, but they were "hobbled," all right, as well
as "bridle wise," and frankly confessed that when it came to women,
they _were_ "a mite timid." But since there was a choice of evils,
in sorrowfully bending to the inevitable they, of course, decided
on "transportation." In indignation they considered places, finally
determining to take the offending family across the river, far, far,
away where they would never more be able to trespass on so reluctant
a hospitality as the ranch cabin afforded. In wide-eyed wonderment and
feverish anxiety, the crestfallen young mother followed every movement
in the preparations that were being made for her journey. She, of
course, could not understand, but watched with vastly puzzled eyes
all this strange confusion about her bed, feeling that she was surely
in some way responsible for this unusual excitement. In nervous haste
she passionately licked the wee babies with tender, mothering tongue,
and with soft caressing murmurs as if assuring _them_ of safety and
was about to do it all over again with utmost care in hopes of being
able to disperse the gloom they had evidently created when she and the
kits were lifted gently into a covered basket which the men had been
carefully preparing for the conveyance. They knew of a place, "the
furtherest ever," a real home ranch where the house-mother would be
really glad of this family. It was far enough away so that the exile
could never return, and besides, what made it an absolutely safe asylum
in the judgment of these men was that it was across a deep flowing
river, which meant that there could be no "stampede" back. Even for
the most homesick of kitties and one who "sure had spunk," it would be
madness to attempt to return across _that_.
These big men, big physically and big in tenderness and sympathy,
usually "took the bit in their mouths and got whatever they went
for," and with pretty smart directness, too. But they were shy, their
nerve forsaking them entirely, when it came to tackling a woman on
her own stamping ground, and that woman the very capable provider of
their "three square per." Why she had taken this obstinate caprice and
unreasonable dislike they did not try to conjecture. It was beyond male
understanding and they lovingly alluded to her as the "one and original
Chinese puzzle." They said "women is queer" with that long-suffering
tolerance which the male human accords the vagaries of the female.
The rangeman is nothing if he lacks that one remarkably comfortable
trait of adaptability, and so, although they were not "stuck on the
job" of removing the cat, they were forced by virtue of their very
large necessity not to get into a "mix-up," by reason of the woman's
crabbed temper and strange antagonism.
So two volunteer martyrs, boiling, seething volcanoes inside, shamedly
and reluctantly took up the basket, holding it as gingerly as if it
were a case of eggs instead of a case of a mother and her harvest of
shame, and dismally started for the ferry. After crossing the river
they "pulled their freight" on the trail a mile farther back inland,
which led upwards into a wide broad meadow and to the home of a
friendly ranch-boss. The buxom wife welcomed their unexpected arrival
and the "family" with open arms, telling them that she had long been
wanting a younger breed of cats to take the place of "old Tom," now
getting lazy and "no 'count," and that she felt flattered that these
faithful friends had selected this ranch as the home for their pet. The
men fixed a nice warm bed in the sanctuary of a vacant manger in one of
the corrals, counted out the infants and found them all O. K., and then
tried to coax the cat to nestle down and mother them. But she would
not, merely crouching over them instead, in an anxious sort of way
with her ears perked inquiringly forward, in an attitude of miserable
bewilderment.
The outcome of her "happy surprise" had been a crushing blow, but one
which would wake within her such a marvelous spirit of determination
and endurance as to render her distinguished among cats. The second
"happy surprise" she was to unfold for their entertainment was one
little anticipated and one that would take the breath from even these
hardened men.
As they turned finally to leave her she gave a long agonized mew that
was so like a human call of utter desolation, and which caused such
queer fluttering thumps in the men's hearts, that they went back to
console her, if possible, and to tuck the babies all in again, with the
caution to lie still and be good.
"Now look here, Cat, y'u don't want to take it to heart like this!
Y'u've been treated low down and it's a darned shame, but there's no
use getting all fussed up over it. Y'u can bank on yere pards making
things pretty mean and sassy for that 'old porkypine.' She's sure in
fer sorrow! The rats and mice will do things, something scandalous,
in that old pantry of hern. Now, go by-low, and take good care of the
babies till we come again."
Waving her a sorrowful "ta-ta" with their hands, they at last left her,
to return by way of the ferry, singing as they went, in their mellow
cowboy cadence, an old Scotch folk-lore song which they thought quite
appropriate to the occasion and soothing to the mother:
There was an old cat, and a black cat, too,
That had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
To save them from fighting and scratching and bawling,
She pinned them all up by the ears when out calling.
Little they suspected that the echo of the thrilling tenderness in
their voices as they chanted this low refrain, growing fainter and
fainter as they disappeared down the hill, was stirring an impulse
in her thumping heart, which when mature, would work out into so wise
and cunning a scheme as to render their deliberate, well-planned human
precautions as naught.
Down deep beneath the apparently indifferent nature of every animal
quivers an intense human love of home that glows with a steady flame
as long as life lasts. It is God's own gift to the animals and in the
heart of this little exile it was a passion that had grown into an
intense determination for that one bit of earth from which she had been
torn, and the only place in all the world that seemed good to her. This
divine longing for her old quarters was a vibrant thrill, thumping,
thumping continually, like a trip-hammer in her homesick breast, and
already daring the best and bravest in her nature to dangers appalling
to a much bigger and bolder beastie. There was no outcry and no appeal
for help in the desolate hours she must have spent in meditating on
the venturesome risk of this dumb challenge, but deep down in that
undiscovered country of the cat's outraged loyalty, there must have
been something powerfully impelling to have given her the daring to
undertake so desperate and venturesome a deed.
In the velvet dusk of a night, not long afterward, a solitary figure,
lean, black, and small, might have been seen, trotting at a steady pace
with a purposeful air that surely meant business, carefully picking
her way among the weeds and undergrowth and making straight for the
cottonwoods and willows that grew along the bank of the river. The
determined form was steady of nerve, carrying her head high, and in her
mouth a limp, nerveless black bundle of fur. When she reached the brink
of the swift-flowing, trackless water, there was a quivering pause, as
if she were perhaps weighing the chances of life and death; but only
for an instant, for immediately there was a _plunk_ and she sank right
down into the whirl of the dreadful blackness and then--silence.
Holding her burden high in her mouth, safe and dry, she soon dragged
her wet and heavy body up the bank on the opposite shore, and obeying
the sure instinct of her useful little nose set her face right for the
old place in the kitchen cabin which was the cherished spot of her
determined desire. She placed this smallest and least pretty of her
brood in the old nest that had been so rudely despoiled, but without
waiting to comfort or even to warm the wee mite, turned her face
resolutely toward the return journey. There was no time to stop, as ten
times more she must fight the good fight and battle with the cold and
danger of the awful and tedious transit.
The gray dawn was just breaking by the time the intrepid little
mother, utterly exhausted, lay beside her six babies in her old homey
bed, a mute reproach to the caprice or hasty anger that had made this
cruel test necessary. The six sources of all her trouble were tugging
hungrily at her breasts, looking as innocent and harmless as downy
puffs, having already been licked and groomed into tidiness by their
forgiving mother.
The housekeeper's gasp of astonishment changed into a cry of disbelief
when she came into the cabin and found the family so snugly settled
in their old quarters. Surely "the boys" had deceived her in regard
to having taken the cat across the river, or how could this marvel be?
The round, fixed and troubled eyes of the cat looked questioningly and
bravely up into her enemy's startled face while her fate hung in the
balance, with a courage that feared but did not flinch, and there could
be no mistaking their half-defiant plea this time. It would, indeed,
have been a heart of steel not to have been moved by the pity of it,
as the frail bit of motherhood looked from the coldly inquiring eyes
bending above her, to the collection at her breasts, with a tenderness
and pride that would have shamed a human mother. Evidently the milk
of human kindness had not all dried up in the rough woman's motherly
breast in rubbing all these years against the sharp edges of Western
ranch life and she was at last touched in a vulnerable spot, for the
flush of anger faded from her irate face, and the hand so threateningly
raised fell in a half-gentle pat on the small mother so bravely
awaiting her decision.
Afterward when the full significance of what she had seen there had
filtered to her understanding and she knew the story of the cat's
valiant struggle with death and the marvelous feat of her perilous
journey just to "be home" and with those she had "loved and lost a
while," herself among the rest, her face softened and the first real
smile she had shown for years beamed on her face, chasing the old
hardened lines to the jumping-off point. Even the hearts of these big
bluff cowmen quailed in contemplating the Spartan nerve this helpless
young mother had shown in making that piteous journey, back and forth
in the lonely silence of the black night, mindful of each and every
one of those precious babies. This was just a plain, common everyday
cat, but one with an extraordinary calm determination and a stout heart
overflowing with two sacred and human attributes, mother-love and
home-love. She had paid the price, fearlessly and pluckily, to ease
these human aches in her breast, a price the agony of which perhaps
we have no way of measuring, but one from which we know she would have
shrunk in horror under ordinary circumstances.
This small animal of no pretensions whatever, manoeuvered and fought
her successful battle alone, daring even to challenge a bitter enemy,
and gained not only the home that she had insisted upon keeping,
but in the end, by a strange caprice of fortune, the far greater and
unexpected compensation of finding a warm soft spot in a heart supposed
to be invulnerable.
It was not necessary, when the men came in to breakfast, for each to
deny any conspiracy in the cat's home-coming. Wet, weary and cold, the
cat told her own story. That their astonishment was genuine, no one
could doubt, for they were struck dumb as they stared blankly at the
"monster," though their beaming faces could not hide the cheery welcome
they gave her in spite of being unable to utter it. They were evidently
"plumb locoed" for even the boldest and most reckless of them, knowing
what the mother must have been through, could not look unmoved on this
miracle of miracles--not one kitling missing of the many, and each one
meaning a trip across the dark, swirling current. Emitting sonorous
and somewhat profane ejaculations, but decidedly to the point, they
"sort'a" laughed and shrugged their shoulders, evidently unable to find
any language polite enough to express their sentiments on the subject
and perhaps it dimly occurred to them that it might be better not
to express them anyway. But these rough diamonds were always sure to
come out strongest under hardest conditions, so one of them, in quick
kindliness, to relieve the rather awkward strain of the situation,
"made good" by exclaiming with shame-faced tenderness: "The trouble
with cats is, y'u can't never tell what they know and what they don't,
nor what darned foolish audasus ideas they got tucked away in their
measly carcasses."
There was no use arguing with the warlike "missus," although they
surely felt there was argument "a plenty" on their side and chafed at
the mandates of their more polite diplomacy, but swallowed their wrath
in silent indignation, as being the better part of valor, too happy in
the strange turn of affairs to parley over it. As Larry said, "There
ain't no depending on females," and surprises await you at every turn.
However, a woman is never so humble as when proven biased in judgment
or instinct, and whatever their former differences may have been, the
hour of surrender on this woman's part showed that deep down inside she
was made of the proper stuff, and that it was not hardness of heart but
the hardness of her life that had given her this rough exterior. This
strange tenderness that pity had been able to awaken in the woman's
heart had been dormant all these lonely years and was probably not
intended for a cat at all, but for something dearer and sweeter; still,
in lieu of its natural vent, it was decreed it should be lavished
on this nice little comfortable substitute. Thus one tiny flash of
love-light transformed completely her disagreeable bearing and declared
for an everlasting friendship between the large woman of the large
ranch and the small cat. Apparently there was some secret understanding
between them, for it was a turning point and the beginning of a new era
in the life of each. Hereafter the earth and the fulness thereof seemed
to be the cat's. However the victory she had won sat very modestly on
the unpresuming diplomat who humbly took up her duties just where she
had left them off, and in spare moments tried to show her gladness in
being safe at home and in good fellowship, by opening and shutting her
small claws ecstatically and purring like a small drum.
There was no public display on the woman's part of this wonderful burst
of tenderness in her heart, for she would have been ashamed to show how
good it felt to be human, but the lesson had "took" and evidently "took
hard," for it bore fruit in a wonderful moderation in her tyrannous
rule and even a redemption of her looks. The old woebegone lines in her
face, which her own hardness had traced there, fast disappeared, and
she was transformed into a living woman, one who felt good and warm
inside and showed it in her attitude toward all. After all, love is
the only miracle, and hearts are the same the world over, and perhaps
it was God's timely economy that only a poor little waif of a homesick
cat should have lived and suffered just to be the angel to make the
whole world new for this bitter woman-heart. In graciously showing
this entirely unexpected softness, and a new-born protecting interest
in the cat, the woman brought to herself the love of many, and basking
in its radiance was like being raised from the dead, opening up as it
did a better understanding with all in a sort of friendly comradeship.
Her manner toward the "little black mascot," as the cat was now called,
was at all times sociable and intimate, although to have let her or the
family forget for one moment that discipline was her prerogative, would
have been to betray the pose of her service of years among them.
On the morning of the cat's return she merely squared matters with
her own conscience by taking her medicine in so far as to confess
her miserable blunder by throwing out her hands in a sort of helpless
gesture and bravely assuming the role of Destiny by issuing a final
mandate: "She's had enough, and she's going to stay right here."
Then she shut her lips ominously tight together as if ignoring the
possibility of any further discussion on the subject, which hint was
gladly heeded by these alert young men who were surely "onto their
job." Larry said, there was even no "back talk" and no "crowing, merely
a little snicker," but even that not too noticeable, as they gazed at
each other in helpless, bashful awkwardness, waiting for someone to be
bold and brave enough to "get busy" so that they could all "get out o'
sight." At last, one care-free, happy young lad, with a little meaning
twinkle in his blue eyes, absolutely unable to restrain his hilarious
approval any longer, impulsively laid his hand on the widow's very
generously upholstered shoulder in passing, and said confidentially in
a hoarse whisper:
"Thems the kind of sentiments, and y'u're sure some lady! And she's a
great small cat and will sing y'u to sleep o' nights."
A joyful grin spread over the whole bunch as they rather sheepishly
made their way to the door and bolted outside, heaving great sighs of
relief as they struck the freedom of the outer air.
"And the best of it all," explained Larry, smiling broadly; "h'it's all
true, cross my heart if it tain't, and the lady took her medicine good
and proper and landed kerchunk on her feet all right."
And throwing me a brief half-nod of youthful friendliness he was off.
[Illustration]
THURSDAY
A girl, a hammock, a book and a day in June: a happy combination
for memories, idleness and half-sadness, with no end of interesting
possibilities that might come to one who loves and responds to the
allurement.
It was one of those hot early June days in a California valley when
all nature seems held in quiet suspense. The wonderful and unusual
stillness brooding over this little sunny spot in the world, at last
arrested the girl's attention as she lazily swung in the hammock under
a group of giant oaks, and she let her book fall to the ground in
unconscious neglect. Suddenly her ear caught a feeble wail borne on
the quiet air, a sound that held her breathless, with a little sobbing
catch in her throat. It was too indistinct to have attracted attention
save for nature's sympathetic hush, and scarcely seemed separated from
the throbbing silence all about her; yet, responsive and expectant she
held her breath to listen to the secret it might unfold. The faint cry
was insistent and at last revealed itself to her unmistakably as the
tiny mew of a tiny kitten. When convinced of this she was roused to
alertness in an instant for she had a special predilection for baby
cats, the smaller the better. The pathetic little cry for help seemed
to grow weaker and fainter as she blindly followed the sound, which
finally led her to the loft of the stable. Even then, although she
realized that she was "warm on the scent," she could not locate the
exact spot this weak little mew came from. But presently she felt sure
that it must come from the depths of a huge packing case, half-filled
with books, which was stored in a far corner. The box being almost her
own height, she could by no possibility lean over sufficiently for her
eyes to pierce its dusky depths. Hastily getting a bench for a perch
and a lighted candle to set at a knot hole half-way down the side of
the box, she discovered its dark secret to be a small bit of coal black
glossy fur, without much form or shape, lying flat as a pancake on one
of the cold hard books; the tiniest mite of a live cat she had ever
seen.
As she lifted the little limp, cold bunch to her warm hand, it ceased
to mew and, she thought, to breathe, but she carried it to the house
and found it alive and able to take a little warm milk from a spoon.
With repeated doses of this nourishment at regular intervals the baby
began to revive and at bedtime was quite a normal kitten, except that
its frame was so unusually small and meager.
Thinking that the mother-cat would surely return at night to the
place where she had left her one wee infant, the girl returned this
"special edition" to the books in the packing case, making it as
warm and comfy as possible. In the morning her first waking thoughts
flew to her tiny protégée and on going to the box she found the poor
little thing just as she had left it the night before--no mother, and
evidently abandoned. This time, on carrying it to the house she made
it a permanent abiding place and continued to feed it with a spoon, as
it seemed to grasp with readiness the idea of getting its food in this
fashion and after a few lessons, took very kindly to it.
The mystery of how this little orphan came to be in the case of books,
alone and deserted, was never satisfactorily solved, although on
inquiry the girl was told that a neighbor had found a black mother-cat
dead in her laundry about the time of the discovery of the little
kitten. It was thought that this must have been the mother of the
little waif and that she had doubtless met with an untimely death.
At any rate, no mother ever appeared to claim the baby, so she was
adopted and given the name of Thursday, that being the day of her
advent. She was so wee that until she was able to help herself to a
grown-up cat's food, she was always fed from a spoon, and soon grew to
look upon this useful article as the source of all motherly comfort,
and to take milk from it as the chief object in living. In all her
after life, the sight of a spoon seemed to give her a thrill and it
was always very funny to watch her keenness in discovering anyone at
the table using this, her foster-mother, which she, very naturally,
regarded as her own special property. This ridiculously small defender
of her propriety rights would make her resentment of this trespass on
her claim manifest in various cunning ways. Often she would watch with
impatient, glaring eyes, from her vantage ground, the floor, each and
every spoonful, as it passed from plate to mouth, hoping in time to
stare this particular offender out of countenance. But if her jealous,
concentrated round eyes failed to attract the desired attention, when
longer forbearance became impossible, she would jump to the lap of
the transgressor, thrusting her little pink nose into the hand that
had so basely ignored her indignation, and intercept the spoon with a
dainty paw and a comical air of haughty rebuke, as if saying: "Little
Thursday's! Have you forgotten?"
This impertinence, which the affront had been designedly coaxing forth,
never failed to bring her a very substantial reward, and certainly
no reproof. And so the baby was spoiled and encouraged in her wilful
little ways which were considered the "cutest ever." There was never
a time in all her life when she would not willingly leave affairs
ordinarily attractive to cats, to come and sit serenely on some lap,
with a bib about her neck, a sweet smile of peace on her face, to be
fed with a spoon. She never reached the full stature of an ordinary
cat, but grew into a wondrously beautiful little beastie and developed
the most independent, self-contained, evasive personality imaginable,
for a cat. Looking no more than half-grown she was the very perfection
of dainty symmetry, her coat a solid glossy black, almost blue in its
depths. She was remarkably quick in her graceful motions, even for a
cat, and had the dearest little round blue eyes, just scintillating
with mischief and flaming with an inordinate love of fun which radiated
to the tip of her inquisitive little nose and from there to the
quivering end of her wicked, ecstatic tail. She also possessed such
queer twists in a highly strung and very nervous temperament, that her
erratic moods were variable and often startling surprises. But she was
always singularly human and steadfast in one feminine quality and that
was in liking to do just as she pleased. One of her "queer twists" was,
at various intervals, to have sudden spasms of hilarious gaiety and to
give vent to these frantic spells in play that were the times of her
life. She never had any company in these grand romps, but was strangely
independent and wildly happy, the imp of play which had possession,
seeming to have endless sources of its own in the way of society and
amusement. She would race "sideways" through the house, her "baby blue
eyes" black as coal, turn double "upside downs," and play a kind of
hide-and-seek all by herself, plainly just play for play's sake until
her frolic, which sometimes rose to a frenzy, had exhausted her crazy
mood.