sly and would resort to all sorts of deception in order to avert
suspicion. If caught loitering about their favorite hunting ground,
the hypocrites would dally about in gaping pink yawns of boredom, in
the most indifferent manner, or play Jack and the Bean-stalk by darting
madly up the trunk of a tree and chasing their own tails down, just to
show that joyous exercise was the chief, and in fact the only reason
for their fondness for the woods. There was no doubt but that they
understood perfectly their transgression, and if they were discovered
in the delirium of the hunt, we faithfully did our dark and dreadful
duty. But they took their discipline so meekly that it was simply
heartbreaking to see their tiny, shrinking little bodies after such
rudeness, hiding in out-of-the-way places, with terrible fear in their
big scared eyes, that were wont to look up at us in such love and
expectancy. The touching resignation of these tiny criminals under
our correction made us feel almost ashamed of our power, especially
as they seemed so superior to it. Moreover it did not seem to make any
lasting impression, nothing resulting from such painful experience to
both, in the way of reform, that could be detected by the naked eye.
But, as we explained to them over and over again, if we had only been
able to correct this one little evil in their hearts and make them half
as penitent and guileless as their beautiful, remorseful eyes looked,
our pains would have been rewarded by their becoming the very best of
citizens.
Bearing so calmly and patiently our severity, as if suffering an
injustice, they fortunately, bore no malice in their baby hearts
and neither punishment nor disgrace could suppress for long their
indomitable spirits. Although they acted for the time being as if their
hearts were broken, smashed beyond repair, as soon as it was deemed
advisable for consolation to be administered, they were coaxed back to
life and soon were as fearlessly and beautifully happy as ever, trifles
of this kind passing as a little summer cloud in their otherwise blue
sky. From their humble resignation they evidently took this peculiar
morality on the part of big mortals as being just one of the mysteries
included in their cup of experiences in this queer world they were
trying to fathom, but in which they had expected only sunshine.
There were times when they escaped vigilance and, in spite of the
retribution which we surely had impressed upon them would follow as
inevitably as a shadow, they would abandon themselves recklessly to
their one dissipation and we were helpless before their defiance.
These disgraceful pets of ours were known to come back from such
gory adventure, unshamedly, with the blood of their victims still
wet on their lips, telling the horrible tale without apology. After
such a stirring incident they usually seated themselves very close
together on the porch steps, singularly calm, their two hearts beating
as one, their little pink noses at the same angle high in the air,
in that habitual attitude of "united we stand or united we fall"
which was always and ever their bond of fellowship, and simply await
unflinchingly for developments. If an accusing finger was raised at
these demure hypocrites, their meek expressions were simply angelic,
as if they were just waiting for halos. Under threatening and closer
scrutiny, they would sanctimoniously lift their round, reproachful eyes
and insolently lick their impudent chops as if scornfully saying:
"Oh, lady, you surely do not suspect _us_ of having seen your birds
this morning?"
Their innocent and demure air was positively exasperating and we were
in despair over the prowling slaughter which made our hearts ache. In
the stress of many other affairs, however, we feared that we would be
obliged to give up our strenuous watchfulness and let these murderous
little beasts pursue their deadly war on the feathered tribe as they
willed, when one joyful day we discovered in the column of "What others
have found out," a permanent remedy.
A quiet resolve was taken and another trip to town, and now these
dainty little aristocrats go about in quest of experience with gleaming
collars about their throats, upon which dangle little tinkling bells,
so that they never escape the music which gives warning of their
approach. From their look of appeal and almost of terror when these
warnings sounded the first alarm, I imagine that it has lessened their
confidence in the kindness of mankind and taken a great deal of joy out
of the world for them.
[Illustration: AÏDA AND SAADI
"Oh, Lady! You do Not Suspect Us of Having Seen Any of Your Birds
This Morning?"]
Ordinarily they submit to the fatalism, looking bored to death, but
there are occasional lapses when their fighting blood struggles and
they are excited almost to madness by the everlasting jingling. Then,
again they will sometimes lift their appealing eyes in hopeless despair
to our unyielding authority, opening their mouths as if to make a
feeble protest in tremolo, but in their guilty helplessness, failing to
utter a sound. But as no miracle of love happens in the way of release,
they have become of necessity philosophers, and though doubtless they
would give the world to be rid of these tink-tingles of law and order
that follow every movement, they are martyrs and have learned, even in
their brief experience of life, to make the best of the inevitable. The
longer their residence in this world, the greater their education will
be concerning the mystery of a higher power which arranges things so
as to baffle a helpless kitten's best laid pleasant plans, even kittens
with marvellous bushy tails with a double kink in them.
Nothing so completely subdued these incorrigibles and hurt their
pride, as a horrible catastrophe they once inadvertently brought upon
themselves, which came near being a tragedy. It was the first time
in their play paradise that they ever met with absolute rebuff and
it completely subdued them for the time being. One hot summer day,
on coming in from one of their tramps abroad, very warm and very
thirsty, they caught sight, both at the same instant, of a basin of
gleaming, tempting, creamy white paint, which a careless workman had
left standing there for a moment. Mistaking it for milk which doubtless
our thoughtful kindness had prepared for their thirsty coming, they
uttered a little flute-like duet of thanks and made a rush to their
fate, side by side, as the animals went into the ark, not stopping for
even a smell, so unsuspecting and great was their confidence. Down deep
went their little aristocratic noses into the sticky mass, so deep they
could hardly extract them!
We were very sorry for these foolish, self-confident little victims
and they were very sorry for themselves. A strange, unwonted calm
fell on our bungalow, and it was really one of the saddest times for
all, humans as well as kittens. Until the paint wore off their faces
and whiskers, it was an interval of quiet, in which there was no
make-believe humility, but in which the culprits were really bowed to
the earth in shame and with indigestion.
Truly, it is a hard world for even innocent little sinners!
[Illustration]
MAROONED
It was midsummer and the city sweltering in an overpowering heat wave,
but in the country there were cool retreats and a fulness of verdure
that were calling with enticing insistence to all the suffering
city-bound folk to come to their bounty and rest. To one weary
country-bred woman, the alluring summons sounded clear with a healing
message to her tired nerves and jaded brain. It was the seductive call
of the big blue sky and the pure air of her own old-fashioned country
home, and her whole soul responded with an intense longing. But she was
one of the city's plodders, chained by the inevitable to the treadmill,
and she could only picture in her hopelessness what such happiness
might be, by straining her misty eyes in memory to years gone by.
She stood by the one window of her own room in that big lonesome
boarding house, apparently gazing idly out on the bit of sun-baked
street her limited view commanded, but she had closed her eyes and
was totally unmindful of the last hot slanting rays. Her whole being
was enthralled by that "back home" call that was stirring her heart.
She was so utterly tired of the heat of walls and pavements and the
city's seething rush and endless clang, that her eyes and brain seemed
bursting and her very soul cried out for that restful spot in the
country she still called home. She knew how sweet and still the misty
woods were "back there" in the soft twilight of this hour, and how the
air was damp and fragrant with the scent of the tangled undergrowth.
In homesick longing she recalled the blessedness of the evening glow
of the setting sun trembling upon the hills of this girlhood's home in
its parting benediction, leaving a sabbath-day stillness on all the
land. She could still hear the musical tinkling of the bells on the
lowing cattle, as they ambled home from the pasture, in the lengthening
shadows, filling the air with the rich warm breath of the hot clover
they had been feeding on. These homey, country memories were like a
fresh delightful breeze blowing on her burning heart and opened up
entrancing visions which stretched far back to happy days when there
had been plenty, and no need of battling with the struggling crowd of
the city.
Under the thrilling delight of these crowding memories, she was for a
few blessed moments transported to this home of her desire, and the
sweetness of it nearly broke her heart. With a sigh, however, she
remembered the present and the throbbing glare of her surroundings,
realizing how worse than foolish and how hopeless was her discontent
with things "that are." Impatiently she lifted the heavy hair from her
hot forehead and winked back the stinging tears, and was just about
to turn resolutely from the window to take up the practical things
of life, with a brave make-believe, when she caught sight of two big,
round, gleaming eyes looking up at her from the dejected little garden
beneath her window. There was nothing very striking or attractive about
these eyes except their resolute intensity, and that they belonged to
a very small cunning kitten, sitting with all four paws tucked under
his body and his tail wrapped neatly about him, patiently gazing up
at the window with concentrated wistfulness, hoping for recognition.
As he caught the lady's tardy glance, he gave a cordial and friendly
mew without moving a muscle of his body and, as there was no response,
another mew. This time the lady, longing for the companionship of
anything alive, could not resist a grateful and hearty return of his
friendliness, and throwing the window wide open, she invited him to
enter. Instantly, with a clever spring and a curious twist of his
legs, he landed on the window ledge, clear of the garden below, and was
caught, with a soft little cry and cuddled tight with the warm downy
fur against her cheek, in a frenzy of overwhelming delight.
Every one knows that a city boarding house is no place for pets, and
in this particular one there was a law, as of the Medes and Persians,
rigid and inflexible, that there should be no dogs or cats. So it was
with a guilty, beating heart that she revelled in even these few stolen
moments with this dear little comforter that carried her back to the
days of her youth and the days when there were always cats--and cats
aplenty. When she released her little visitor from her arms, he sniffed
about the room, reconnoitering every nook and corner, as is the fashion
of cats, and after a thorough and careful inspection of everything,
settled down with a mew of approval into his favorite position of rest,
all four paws under him, having evidently decided to stay. But the
lady knew, and feared, and confiding to him the restrictions of the
place, gently placed him on the window ledge, telling him to scamper
for his life into hiding. He dashed away at breakneck speed and the
lady thought he was gone forever. But to her surprise and delight,
on returning to her room after business hours next day, there was Mr.
Kitty sitting on the ledge outside her window, in his favorite position
of "warming his toes," as if by previous arrangement. Of course he was
invited in, snuggled and fed. Fortunately the lady's window was in the
back of the house, in a rather secluded corner, so she could carry on
these clandestine meetings without discovery.
It grew to be the regular thing, that the kitten should be there each
night, sitting just outside the window like the Peri at the Gate,
patiently waiting for his lady's return. In this way he laid such
persistent siege to her heart that she finally had to surrender,
permitting him an established place in her home and in her affections,
but under certain restrictions. Although there was the impassable
barrier of expressed thought between them, he could look into her eyes
and wistfully divine her desire. In this way he quickly learned that it
was only in the evening that he could be admitted into the brightness
of her society, and even then, only with the greatest caution. After he
had once grasped this mental warning he forever after honored it with
the most careful consideration.
An evening came when the tall, thin-faced captain, with the winds
of many a sea on his cheeks, was in port, and the indulgement of his
long-established habit of calling on the lady in the boarding house.
The anticipation of these regular visits had lain in the sturdy
captain's heart until it had blossomed into a cheering romance and he
boldly dreamed, during his lonely night vigils, of a possible fireside
that might sometime be kindled and waiting to welcome him on his return
from his voyages. This little "comfort beacon" he was building in his
mind made his stays in this port of great consequence to him. But the
heart of the lady was a port of happiness the captain had not yet been
able to invade as it was not a sailor's life that the lady thought she
would like to share. Some day, somehow, she hoped to return to that
happy land in the country she remembered, where she would pitch her
modest tent and live forever after, happier even than the proverbial
fairies. But the big, courageous captain was gentle and generous in
loving, and willing to wait.
On the captain's first call after reaching port this time he found
the kitten duly installed as a permanent member of the evening circle,
and on account of the lady's evident partiality for her favorite, he
being always anxious to please her, tried to make friends with him.
To the lady's surprise, the cat persistently eluded the captain's
demonstrative wooing. Perhaps it was instinct that told him of a
certain jealous impatience in the captain's heart that he should be
there taking so much of the lady's attention; or perhaps it was because
the captain offended his dignity by teasing him, in a friendly way, by
pulling his tail; or perhaps it was just because he called him "pussy,"
which to any civilized cat must be rather galling.
Anyway, they did not seem to get along together at all nicely and on
the captain's evenings the cat developed a decided and hitherto unknown
kink in his temper. He would wait for and submit like a gentleman to
the captain's rough stroke of greeting, but that was the limit of his
politeness, and any familiarity beyond this would bring a wicked gleam
to his sea-green eyes and an ominous thud of his tail.
The lady felt their mutual irritation and thinking to interest the
captain in her pet and to smooth their rather stormy friendship, told
him of the kitten's great fondness for water, a very unusual trait in
cats, as they generally dread getting even their feet wet. She told how
this cat really dissipated in water, loving to play with the straggling
lengths of the garden hose and in the puddles it made, often getting
himself thoroughly drenched, and sometimes even played at swimming
across a shallow pool until he came to some high place where he could
perch and dry his bedraggled self. Having such a bond as their mutual
fondness for water, they ought by right to be the best of friends, she
said.
When the time came for the captain to sail again, to the lady's great
surprise, he begged her to let him have the kitten for a passenger,
telling her that they needed a mascot on board ship. He assured her
that her "best beloved" had just the special qualities to make a dandy
sailor, and loving the water as he evidently did, would doubtless take
kindly to the life.
The captain hesitatingly pondered in his heart if the time were ripe
to ask for another passenger, the one in all the world whom he thought
would make life's voyage sweet and complete, but he instinctively
felt that the lady would not have it that way, and in wisdom asked
only for the cat. Secretly she wondered why the captain had asked for
the company of the cat, as they plainly were not greatly attached to
each other, and selfishly she wanted to keep this dear little friendly
kitten all to herself. Yet there was always the secret of his unlawful
transgression on forbidden territory and the fear of discovery; and
more than all, the heartbreaking fact that time, over which there
was no control, would bring him the misfortune of becoming just a
big, homeless, skulking city cat. These considerations, and a desire
to provide a good home for her pet far away, reconciled her to the
separation, although it gave her a big heart-ache to think how she
would miss him.
So it was arranged that the captain should have his mascot. On the day
of sailing the lady herself took him to the ship, as she wanted to be
quite sure that he was carried aboard gently and safely and that he
was induced to stay there with as little fright as possible. She was
also glad to give the captain this little flattering attention of a
last good-bye and _bon voyage_, which hint, if the poor captain had not
been too downcast at the parting, might have made him feel that perhaps
he had been a little too timid in asking for only one passenger. When
at last she cautioned him, with a pitiful little break in her voice,
to have patience and use only gentleness with this trusting, helpless
little shipmate she was so basely betraying, it came near bringing
about a climax. As the devoted captain held her small hands clasped
tightly in his strong ones, a burning flood of love flushed his
cheeks under their coat of tan and his snappy blue eyes blurred, as he
solemnly swore, in a voice not quite under control, that he would be
ever faithful to her admonition, to her, to the cat and to anything she
held dear. Had there been time, in his almost overpowering emotion, the
candid mariner might then and there have ventured his fate. However,
the tension of the instant passed, and in the confusion of the last
few moments there was not again time or opportunity for tender words,
especially as the lady's whole attention seemed taken up with the
cat and in solicitous anxiety as to whether he would be contented and
develop a liking for skippers and a skipper's life. So in the final
moment of clashing bells, splashing hawsers and the settling down of
the engine to real business, the last flickering farewell was only a
quick grasp of hands, which somehow seemed to carry with it a new hope,
and the call of "all ashore," left the captain's heart still fluttering
with only the next time to look forward to.
[Illustration: MAROONED
Neither Disappointment nor Ugly Temper Had Broken
His Fierce Sense of Injury or His Indomitable Spirit]
It was a very sullen kitten that the lady had left on the lower deck
after the last desperate squeeze she had given him. As she turned to
take her last look back, there he sat on his haunches, as motionless as
an Egyptian mummy, amid his new surroundings, but game, maintaining a
lofty dignity to the last in spite of perplexity, dismay and wrath.
As the great ship swung clear of the pier and turned her clean-cut prow
toward the mists of the ocean, the lady wiped the blinding tears from
her eyes and waved her handkerchief bravely as a last admonition to
the cat, and in adieu to the captain, who was now in command, alert and
busy, all sentiment forgotten.
All on board a sailing vessel, from the captain down, love pets of
every kind, but during the first hours of the ship's getting under way,
when all is confusion and bustle and everybody busy with the ship's
important affairs, there is no time for trifles. Naturally the new
passenger was forgotten for the time being and left to his own devices
and for the ocean to do its own work with him, in its own way, until
things had settled down into the daily routine. When this time arrived,
the cat was past all overtures of any kind and occupied exclusively
with his own resentment, the anger of his betrayal having by this
time entered too deeply into his being for him to accept any kind of
peace-offering. He was insensible to all caresses and disdained all
offers of friendly acquaintance, and from the rank rebellion brooding
in his gloomy, unforgiving eyes, it was plainly evident that he was
not enjoying his ocean trip. Although he had soon found his sea legs,
he had also found _en route_ a very wicked temper in thinking over the
injustice of the situation, shanghaied and deserted in this heartless
manner.
The men, now that they had the time, tried in every way to make up to
him but coaxing of all kinds proved of no avail, the awful bitterness
of his injury making him immune to any sort of cajolery, and he
treated them all with a calm and persistent air of scorn. They tried to
tempt him with every kind of cat dainty, but in an attitude of sullen
hostility he would have nothing to do with them, venting his ill-temper
on all alike and confining his dependence in the eating line to the
cook, who merely threw him scraps. His angry resentment was too deep
and too hopeless for any comforting; he merely wanted to be let alone,
if he was doomed to stay in this dungeon, and to live his own sullen,
desolate life, in resenting _everything_.
His former freedom among gardens and roofs made the limitation of even
this big craft, a miserable home for one of his outdoor habits, and
although he had all the ship's mice for diversion, there was time and
time for thoughts deep and resentful. As he was unconfined and had full
range of the ship, on an early tour of investigation he discovered a
porthole, always open to the sun in possible weather, which seemed to
attract him, as a light will draw a traveler, lost in the dark. This
he decided on as his favorite resting place during the day and the
sailors, knowing that he had become fully accustomed to the monotonous
swaying of the boat, and in consideration of his strong prejudices, let
him take possession undisturbed. Here he would sit and "let his mind
work" in brooding abstraction, gazing by the hour in wide open revolt
at the gray blankness of the sea, too dreary and hopeless to sleep.
Perhaps it reminded him of other times and of another window where he
had been wont to sit in happy anticipation of the coming of his lady.
However it was, this window had a strange fascination for him and day
after day, when he was not roaming drearily about the ship, he would
sit here, a sad still-life study. With wide, unwinking, gloomy eyes,
hour by hour he would follow the broad expanse of the desolate waves to
the empty horizon, eating his homesick heart out in grim endurance of
his fate.
One awful day he was caught unawares and his career came near ending
tragically. The ship, without the slightest warning, made a sudden
lurch and he was unceremoniously tumbled out of his resting place
with a splash, into the waves that were racing along the smooth black
sides of the ship. An alarm was immediately given and in five seconds
everyone on board knew what had happened. The captain received the
information with a few sailor expletives, nautical and to the point,
and growled something about "not being worth it," but ordered "all
hands to the rescue," and the middies responded valiantly. One, more
venturesome than the rest, without pausing to count the odds, stripped
and leaped boldly into the dangerous depths. The rest of the crew hung
breathless over the rail, watching their comrade make his desperate
struggle with the buffeting waves, which sucked at every ounce of his
youthful will and strength. There was an instant of sickening suspense
when he sunk straight down clear out of sight. But quickly his head
shot up again above the swirl of water and as he shook the brine from
his nostrils and eyes and struck out powerfully with his arms, there
was seen between his teeth the motionless cat held fast by the neck.
The small boat was lowered and the hero was picked up and helped
aboard.