THE MOLE-HUNT
The cats ahead of us were leaving the pine wood, and were filing out
between the big trees to the ploughed land. When we reached it, they
went skipping and prancing over it to the meadow. Arriving there, the
cats all stopped, and we heard Blizzard's upraised voice.
“Friends—all who are invited to be present at the mole-hunt, follow me.
All others, go home.”
This last command was meant for Slyboots and me, but we didn't wish to
obey it.
“Come on,” whispered Slyboots in my ear, “we'll fool him.”
I ran after her. We two cats were the only ones to leave, and as we
rushed along over the cool, dewy grass, Slyboots said to me, “Let's hide
down here. They're coming this way.”
I did not think it was quite an honest thing to do, however, I followed
her. We pretended to go over the foot-bridge, but instead of that we
turned aside, and went in among the alders. Here we found a great clump
of ferns, and nestling down among them listened.
I could not help thinking what a lovely night it was, as I lay there.
The air seemed so soft against our bodies, and the freshness and the
smell of it were so delightful to breathe. The air just felt as if no
cats had ever breathed it before. In Boston, one often has a feeling
that the air entering one's lungs has been breathed over and over again,
till it is quite tired out, and has no life left in it.
It was not a very dark night, and having cats' eyes, we could see
plainly the crowd that we had left behind us. Soon they came toward us,
just as Slyboots had prophesied. We could hear Joker's loud, silly
voice, and Blizzard's crafty one, with an occasional remark in Serena's
clear, high-pitched one.
Slyboots and I were just crazy to fathom the mystery of the mole-hunt,
so we listened most attentively.
“We don't usually have such a gathering for a mole-hunt,” Blizzard was
saying, “but it was so kind and condescending in you to afford us the
pleasure of hearing a lecture from you, that every cat in the
neighborhood and beyond it wished to honor you.”
As Slyboots said, the army of cats was coming toward us, and every word
fell distinctly on our ears in the clear night air.
“Let me recapitulate,” Serena remarked: “This mole-hunt is to be ushered
in by a grand _battue_, which, of course, you understand is the act of
beating woods and bushes for game.”
“Exactly,” we heard Blizzard exclaim in a kind of ecstasy, “how you
understand things, Miss Serena! How you dive into the heart of an
affair,” and I could just imagine him turning round with a rapt grin to
the cats behind him.
Slyboots, too, was disgusted, and grunted as Serena went on.
“I, as a guest you are delighted to honor, am placed by you at the
entrance to a mole-hill. You retire with the other cats, and surrounding
the game, drive it toward me. I catch it as it is about to enter its
domicile,” and here Serena paused, and I could fancy her shudder, for
she does not like catching things.
“Yes, yes,” vociferated Blizzard, “true, true—I wish these country cats
to have an exhibition of your physical ability. They already know your
mental equipment—they have had a sample of your powers of mind. Now I
wish them to benefit by that grace of movement, that agility without
awkwardness, which to such a high degree, distinguishes the city cat
from the country cat.”
There was quite a round of applause and cat-yells at this, and I could
imagine Serena's scruples giving away.
“I have never cared for catching mice,” she said in an easy voice, “but
you say a mole-hunt is quite different.”
“Oh, yes,” responded Blizzard, “a mole is an exquisite little animal,
far softer, far prettier than a mouse; it has a shorter tail, a pointed
nose, and cunning pink claws. Its eyes are hardly to be seen. I assure
you, you will not mind clasping its little body in your claws.”
“And when do we come to the mole-hills?” inquired Serena.
“Right here,” responded Blizzard, and the old rascal stopped at a few
paces from us. “Get to work, cats and kittens, find the mole-hills,
choose the best, then we will have the hunt.”
The cats broke ranks and scattered hither and thither. It was a regular
frolic for them, and I don't think any of them did much work, but
Blizzard and Rosy. Joker just stood and grinned at Serena. If I had been
in her place that idiotic, tell-tale face of his would have warned me,
but there was a mist before the eyes of my poor, deluded sister. She saw
only what she wanted to see.
In a few minutes Blizzard and Rosy had fixed upon a place, and the
mischievous old cat raised his voice, “Cats and kittens!”
Immediately all the cats stopped their nonsense, and gathered round him.
“I have found three mole-hills, quite near each other,” he said. “Now,
Miss Serena, come near. Stand with your eyes fixed on these three small
holes in the ground. The moles being night workers, are off for food. We
will form a ring, surround them, and drive them toward home. Be all
ready to spring as they arrive. Lay the dead in a little pile, then when
we think all the moles have been driven from the surrounding fields, we
will come back, and have a celebration over your victory. Now cats—away,
follow me,” and the old fellow bounded off, as nimbly as a kitten.
Slyboots began to chuckle in a slow, enjoyable way. “I see their little
game,” she said. “I track 'em.”
“What is it?” I whispered eagerly. “I am all in the dark.”
She kept on chuckling, till the last shadowy cat form was out of sight.
Then speaking very low, so that Serena would not hear her, for she was
sitting quite near us on a little mound in the meadow, she murmured,
“This is a put-up job. There ain't no moles near. They're foolin'
Serena. She'll sit there a month afore a mole comes.”
“Slyboots,” I gasped, “it is all a trick.”
“Jest so. Blizzard and all them cats has gone home laughin' like to kill
themselves at the way they're foolin' your sister.”
“I'll go tell her,” I exclaimed, indignantly starting up.
“Hush—she'll ketch on,” and Slyboots laid a detaining paw on my
shoulder. “There's no use in tellin' her now. She'd scoff at ye. Wait a
bit, till she gets tired.”
I trembled with anger. Oh, how I wanted to bite Blizzard. Poor Serena!
what a blow to her pride! The whole aim and object of the gathering this
evening, had been to make a simpleton of her. My dear sister!
After a long time I said to Slyboots, “I should think if Blizzard is so
desirous of humbling her, that he would want to wait and see her
discomfiture when she finds that she has been deceived.”
“He may do that,” said Slyboots. “I should not wonder if he is in hiding
somewhere watching, or else he may slip back.”
“How I would like to find him,” I said revengefully, “and beat him.”
“You'd better let him alone,” remarked Slyboots warningly. “He'd dress
you down in five minutes. Then don't forgit that your sister goes out of
her way to show off.”
“I know she has brought it on herself,” I groaned. “Why did she not stay
in the city, where affectation is more pardonable?”
Slyboots laughed softly. “You can put on airs in Boston, but don't ye
try it in the country. It don't go down.”
Well, I don't know how long we sat there. It seemed to me half the
night, but I suppose it was only an hour or two. At last Slyboots rose,
stretched herself, yawned, and said, “I'm goin' home.”
“Let us go speak to Serena now,” I said eagerly. “Perhaps she will
listen.”
Slyboots shook her head. However, she followed me, and we both crept
over the dark cold meadow toward Serena. “Sister,” I said, “it's late.
Come home with me.”
She gave me a dreamy glance, and then without speaking turned her head
again. She was crouched in a graceful attitude near a tiny mound of
earth.
“The cats are deceiving you,” I continued, “they are not coming back.”
She gave me another peculiar glance. She seemed sunk in a doze of
ecstasy, and my words fell on dull ears.
“They are fooling you, Serena,” I went on excitedly, “there are no moles
to be driven in. I expect they are snugly down below you in the earth.
Blizzard wishes to make a simpleton of you.”
Serena roused herself slightly at this. “Go away, you jealous kitten,”
she said haughtily. “Blizzard told me that you were eaten up with
jealousy of me, because I am handsomer and cleverer than you.”
I felt like a simpleton, and I suppose I looked like one, as I stared
helplessly at Slyboots. Jealous of her! I had never thought of such a
thing. However, I could not persuade her of it, and I had better not
try.
“Come home,” whispered Slyboots in my ear, and throwing Serena one
contemptuous glance, she walked away.
I followed her for a short distance. I was amazed at the cleverness and
cunning of that wicked Blizzard. Suddenly I stopped short. “Slyboots,” I
said, “it does not matter what Serena thinks of me. I am not going to
leave her alone on that meadow to-night. I will creep back among the
alders and watch.”
Slyboots hesitated, and looked in the direction of the house, where we
could see some lights twinkling, and then back at the dark meadow. I
knew she wanted to go home, and lie on the feather bed; however, she
kindly turned back with me, and we once more went to our old place among
the ferns.
I soon went to sleep, and I think Slyboots did, too. I was awakened by a
push from Slyboots. Sleepily opening my eyes, I heard a malicious voice
speaking, squealing, laughing.
It was Blizzard, and he had come back to torture my sister. “Go home
now, idiot,” he was saying, “go back to your prig of a sister, and tell
her how we have fooled you. Oh, what a sweet morsel you are! How tender,
how juicy! If I hadn't more sap than you, I wouldn't leave my mammy's
side. How did you ever grow up with so little mind? What balderdash you
gave us this evening! Cats of ancient times! Cats of fiddlesticks!”
All the time he was speaking, he danced and pranced about my poor
sister. He was so full of evil that he could not keep still. Rosy,
sitting at a little distance, seemed to be listening approvingly to what
he was saying.
Poor Serena! If ever I saw a crestfallen cat, she was the one. What a
fearful fall her pride had had! She looked as if she could never hold
her head up again.
Occasionally she gave him a bewildered glance, as if to say, “Are you
really speaking the truth? Surely this is some game. In a few minutes
you will be yourself again, and you will begin to praise me as you did
formerly.”
No, it was no game, and that conviction at last entered poor Serena's
soul. She got up, turned sadly from him, and with drooping head and
dejected limbs began to make her way to the foot-bridge.
Her attendant imp or demon seemed itching to get his paws on her. He ran
close beside her, he taunted her shamefully, he advised her to go back
to Boston, and let country cats run their own show, and at last, getting
bold, he began to give her an occasional tap on the head.
My heart-broken sister resented nothing. She travelled slowly on. I
think Blizzard could have killed her if he had wished to do so. Now was
the time for us to show that she had friends. Without a word, Slyboots
and I stepped from the alders and placed ourselves by her side.
Blizzard had begun to smell us, so we had no chance to surprise him, nor
did we wish to do so. We were not hankering for a fight.
He fell back pretty quick, and we three went slowly up the path toward
the barn, round the building where the dry wood is stored, and the
carriage-house, and toward the back door which was wide open, for the
Gleasons never close doors or windows at night. In the first place,
there are no tramps here, and in the second, they could not get in if
they came, on account of the dog Barlo.
As we come into the house from the east side next the barn, there is a
small wood-house and then the kitchen. As we were about to go up the
steps leading to the wood-house, there appeared the figure of a cat in
the doorway.
It was Joker, and running to meet us he began to prance round us in an
extravagant manner, and to taunt Serena. “Where is your mole—didn't you
catch one? I expected to see you come home with half a dozen hanging
from your mouth. You a thoroughbred! The cats are all bursting laughing
at you. You're a half-breed!”
I looked at Slyboots. It did seem too bad that one of the conspirators
should have been under our roof.
“Did you ever hear of the laws of hospitality, Joker?” I asked sternly.
“Laws—no,” he said grinning idiotically, “but I know what claws be,” and
he pointed to Serena. “To catch moles—te, he, he,” and he giggled in a
most aggravating way.
We were all tired and sleepy, and had stood about all we could. Slyboots
particularly was in a most irritable mood, and without one preliminary,
such as a growl or grimace, she sprang at Joker, and didn't she drag him
over that door-yard!
He made a fearful wailing, and heads began to come out of the open
windows on this side of the house.
Denno threw down several pairs of boots, and at last a lot of water from
a pitcher. That stopped the fight, or rather the attack, for Joker did
not fight. He just yelled. Slyboots is a master-hand at fighting, as I
very well knew. Joker will be sore for many a day. I am sorry to have
him punished, and yet he has done very wrong and deserves all he got.
Well, after a time, we again started on our way up-stairs. Joker had run
off somewhere, and Serena, Slyboots and I lie here on our feather bed.
I cannot sleep, for Serena needs comforting. She is perfectly crushed.
She keeps moaning that she wants to go back to the city. She can't get
there now. She will have to wait, but oh! how sorry I am for her. Her
summer here is spoiled. She is so ashamed of herself that she does not
know what to do. She has prided herself so much on her cleverness. She
thought that these country cats were going to look up to her, and admire
her, and have her for a leader, and now she sees that they despise her
and make fun of her, and don't want to have anything to do with anything
or any creature from Boston—and they have found out that she told a lie
about being a pure-bred Angora. That is about the worst cut of all.
Well, I hope she will soon go to sleep. It is not interesting to think
things over when such disagreeable things happen. It would be vastly
more agreeable to sink into a sound, sweet sleep.