During the long, still evenings sounds could always be heard far away
in the huge “stone-heap” where most of the tracks found by Red sooner
or later ended. Often she approached courageously quite close and sat
outside listening. Perpetual noise and disturbance reigned within;
shrill whines, deep bellows, crowings, and cacklings penetrated its
walls. A strong animal smell, as if the stone-heap were wrapped in an
enormous food-paper, permeated the surrounding atmosphere.
One evening, as she sat hidden in the corn, she saw a man, with clogs
clattering and forepaws covered with fur, come out and walk past.
The stableman had Box with him....
The dog scented cat, and caught a glimpse of red fur--and now Red had
to gallop for her life through the corn.
Long-legged Box had almost overtaken her when she ran up into the
top of a small willow tree, where, by exerting all her strength, she
managed to hang fast, swaying to and fro. Box executed a wild war-dance
round the trunk, leaping up as high as he could; when he grew tired of
that, he turned his back to the tree and howled towards the farm for
help....
Suddenly he hears a noise behind him. He whirls round, but can see
nothing on account of the thick corn. He throws a glance up at the
willow-top. It is empty!
At last he realizes what has happened. The red scamp has outdone him;
with nose to the scent he rushes after....
The spoor leads into a ditch--and Box follows!
Now through a culvert under a road--and Box rushes at full speed into
the culvert! It is lined with stones, and narrow--_too_ narrow for the
dog’s well-nourished body; he sticks fast, and can move neither forward
nor back.
He has not even room left to bark; his ribs are gripped as in a vice;
it is all he can do to manage a feeble, frightened whine.
All that evening he remains a prisoner in his stone cell; during
the night the water rises and covers his paws--until at last, late
next afternoon, his body has become so emaciated that he succeeds in
squeezing backwards out of the trap.
Delighted, he runs home at once to the farm, where, however, he is
subjected to the additional humiliation of being well scolded for his
absence. How had his lordship enjoyed himself all that time? He had
perhaps been making love in the next parish? Or had he been camping out
with the fisherman’s yellow mongrel? Yes, he was a Don Juan, that’s
what he was; a thoroughly wicked fellow!...
“Be careful!” he was threatened vaguely. His place was in the farmyard
at night to keep guard!
Next day he was chained up.
* * * * *
One would think that Red would have been so frightened by this narrow
escape that she would have avoided the farm and its surroundings for
the future; but it was far from being the case--that sort of mishap
had no effect on her at all.
In fact, with her system of going to work, such things were sure to
happen; no need, therefore, to take them too seriously!
A few evenings later she is sitting again at the edge of the cornfield,
and as nobody comes out and no dog chases her away, it is obvious that
she is meant to gain admittance!
She creeps along the garden fence and sneaks calmly past the stall to
the manure-heap, where she spends the whole night in undisturbed peace
ransacking “the big food bag.”
She came back night after night; and became more and more daring....
One morning early, the housewife coming suddenly into the larder,
discovered a strange cat sitting on one of the shelves, eating. She
grabbed the broom and lunged out after the brute, but in her excitement
aimed so badly that she transformed a large bowl of cream into a
cataract!
Now the farmer’s wife became really angry! If that red devil stole
cream, she’d soon begin taking puddings and meat....
She hit about her wildly and futilely.... While Red escaped by the
grating through which she had come.
* * * * *
“_Was_ it a cat?”
The good woman became suddenly doubtful when she had cooled down.
Nobody round about owned such a cat, as far as she knew....
Was it not rather a young fox she had seen?...