Whatever doubt there may have been as to Tiny’s being a sly puss, it
was quite certain that Red-kitten was a deceitful hussy!
Her coat alone stamped her as a mountebank, being fox-red in colour,
with bright yellow stripes which turned to rings round her legs and
tail.
Her body also was unique, being long, thin, and supple, and gave as she
walked, like a freshly stuffed sofa.
She had a mania for stretching herself, as if she _could_ not get her
body slim and supple enough. None could compare with her in activity;
she was incessantly playing tricks on the others--and when they
attacked her she could easily wriggle out of their clutches, even Black
and Big being unable to hold her.
A gymnast, a juggler, was Red!
In addition to her bodily virtues she had tall, slim legs, which, when
necessary, enabled her to escape from the swiftest opponent by sheer
speed.
She was still quite young when Box one day surprised her in the middle
of the field; but, thanks to her speed, she saved herself at the last
moment by scrambling up on a straw thatch, her mouth extended and the
water running down her red tongue. Had there been a man on the scene he
would have said that it was the first time he had seen a cat _sweat_!
Her cunning, flame-coloured eyes are seldom really open; she usually
goes about with them screwed up, as if desiring to conceal their
lowering, deceitful glance.
She is always to be seen sneaking round stones and molehills, and
likes jumping out suddenly and unexpectedly. When the others play
puss-in-the-corner, she prefers to lie in ambush and spring upon the
nearest from behind, knock him down, and maul him about.
She beats all the others in cunning, and they do not like her to be
near when they are eating; they know from experience her extraordinary
skill in stealing.
On the day Mother Grey Puss brought home the herrings, each kitten was
apportioned a lump of the delicious food. Big, who had received the
head, sat a little apart from the others, nibbling it thoughtfully.
There was still a piece of the jaw left; it lay just in front of him,
as with closed eyes he swallowed blissfully a tasty mouthful. When he
opened his eyes again the herring jaw was no longer there--and a red
tail-tip vanished silently behind the nearest boulder.
Nature, as a rule, equips each of her creatures generously with at
least one special talent; and, provided only it uses that talent, the
struggle for life is an easy one.
And Red’s talent was--thieving!
One can never take her by surprise: she possesses extraordinary
decision of character, coupled with extreme cautiousness; and she never
resorts to force until her prey is at her mercy. Her daily struggle for
food and her constant intercourse with her talented brothers, whose
highly specialized skill in trapping was so much superior to her own,
have developed her inbred tendency to steal, whenever _her_ special
characteristics make it possible.
She is an expert at starting a quarrel when the others sit devouring
their spoil; and while they fight, she fishes in troubled waters. She
hunts indeed, but after her own fashion; and most of her spoil is
second-hand!
Her sympathies are unstable; she lacks personality! Sometimes she helps
Black against Big, at others Grey against Black; being always on the
side of the one who owns nothing against the one who has for the moment
something to steal.... She is in favour of common ownership, and is the
red communist of the litter!
But she is an adept at dissembling; she is not only a great juggler,
but also a great hypocrite ... her tail betrays this, for in the most
exciting moments it is as stiff as a poker!
In the long run, however, the narrow bounds of catborough do not offer
sufficient scope for her predatory instincts, and she is compelled to
eke out her spoils. When Big, Black, and Grey, with White and Tiny in
tow, slink out in the gloaming over field and meadow and follow the
twisting, irregular paths of the village copse, Red lounges through the
field until she meets a human track.
Experience has taught her that such a track usually leads to a place
where there is something to be picked up ... some cast-away food-paper
or other, which, on investigation, often proves to contain tasty
morsels, such as herring-bones, cheese-rind, or scraps of fat.
Sometimes, also, an old wooden clog or a pair of cast-off stockings lie
on the ground near by, but they appeal to her less, and serve only to
increase her faith in human footsteps.
But it happens, too, that the tracks lead to dainties such as would
make even gourmands like Big and Black turn blue in the face with envy!
The errand boys of the neighbourhood are very keen on wandering round
the hedges for birds’ nests--not to destroy them, but merely to feel
the thrill of peeping at the eggs. Red, aided by her cunning and her
deductive faculties, finds every single one of these nests!
On one occasion she raided a lark’s nest. All night long she had
followed a human “spoor,” which led over grass and clover and turnips.
At a certain place the track stopped and turned off abruptly towards a
clump of white marguerites.
Three nights in succession she came across the same lonely track, and
found it stop on each occasion exactly at this place. And yet there was
nothing there; that was peculiar!
She examined the immediate surroundings even more thoroughly, poked her
nose in the steaming scent-waves--where human foot stood long in one
place, the scent was warm; she knew that well enough!
At this a bird sprang up. She thrust her teeth into the nest and
lapped down the nearly full-grown young greedily....
She had been right after all; food always flowed where human footsteps
trod!