THEY FOUGHT LIKE CATS AND DOGS!
“There is only one way to catch anything, and that is: Pounce on it!”
Wutz-Butz was the speaker; he was addressing his soldiers, drawn up
before him, ready for the fray. Brindle had early made her way to Dog
Corners, and returned with the report that on this day the majority of
the dogs were to be away from their village on a hunting trip. If the
Purrers wished to attack there could not be a better time than the
present to do so.
There had been a discussion as to the best way of attacking the enemy,
and Wutz-Butz, as General of the Cats, was giving his opinion.
“There is only one way,” he said, “to catch anything, and that is:
Pounce on it! How do you catch a mouse? Crouch low, keep the tip of your
tail wagging, whiskers forward, eyes fixed front, muscles taut—then:
Jump! Isn’t that the way? Well, then; there is no other way to capture
anything. A village is precisely like a mouse, only bigger—”
A murmur of dissent arose at this statement, and Wutz-Butz hastily
explained.
“I mean,” he said, quickly, “in principle. In principle there is no
difference between a mouse and a village, except in size. That
difference is evened up by there being so many of us. One cat catches
the little mouse; many cats catch the large village. And there you are!
The only way for us to do is to march softly to Dog Corners, and when we
get there to form a circle all around it. Then we must crouch down, fix
our eyes on the village—it will be awful! A lot of big, staring eyes all
around the walls! Then we must prick our ears forward, moving them a
little at the tips, to catch every sound, and keep our whiskers stiff,
and the tips of our tails moving, moving ever so little. We must hold
our muscles taut, ready! And then I will give a tiny, tiny spit, and
then—Like one cat we must pounce together, up in the air and down on the
village, claws out and backs stiff! And then Dog Corners will be taken!”
All the soldiers purred together, like the roll of a drum. The programme
as laid out by their general sounded so attractive!
“Are you ready?” cried ’Clipsy, facing the troops.
“Yes!” shouted the army, as one cat.
“Will you follow us to danger and—if need be—to death?” demanded
’Clipsy.
“Yes, yes, miauw, miauw!” shrieked the soldiers, deeply stirred.
“Then forward! March!” cried Wutz-Butz, wheeling about and taking a few
steps in the direction of Dog Corners.
Instantly the column was in motion, and soon the women and children cats
left behind in Purrington could see only tips of tails proudly waving in
the air, which, an instant later, were lost to sight in a cloud of dust.
The army marched at double-quick through the woods, the padded feet of
the soldiers making no sound on the dry leaves and pine-needle carpet
over which they marched.
Dog Corners lay, as they thought, at some distance from Purrington. Mrs.
Brindle had said that it took her three hours to reach it. The Purrers
did not realize the difference that there was between the awkward gait
of the big cow and the swift trot of their own lithe bodies until they
came within hailing distance of Dog Corners most unexpectedly, and at
the expiration of a little less than two hours’ time.
Wutz-Butz softly ordered a halt, and then detailed his sub-officers to
lead four divisions of the army, which were to separate, march around
the village, and then take up their positions, with an officer at the
four points of the compass. The army would join its divisions, forming a
cordon around the enemy, according to the announcement of his plans made
by General Wutz-Butz before starting out.
With a speed and silence most creditable to soldiers whose only
experience in fighting heretofore had been in single combats, these
orders were carried out.
Swiftly and noiselessly the four detachments marched to surround the
village, and took up their positions, with the ends of the detachments
united to form a single line, encircling Dog Corners.
Regarding the village as a gigantic mouse which they were to seize as a
single cat, as their skilful leader had bidden them, the cats crouched,
eyes forward, whiskers set, ears pointed, tails moving, muscles tense,
ready to pounce at the word of command. Wutz-Butz led at the main gate.
His followers listened for the spit that was to be the signal of
onslaught.
Hark! Was that it? No; it was but the heavy breathing of an old soldier,
his asthma increased by excitement. But at last—
[Illustration:
“Ready to pounce.”]
Ban-Ban caught the sound first, and repeated it. The four officers spit
together. Instantly the entire army arose in the air in a great, curving
heap, legs out, claws extended, and pounced on the village, like one
great cat on one large mouse!
Panic seized the dogs left at home, little dreaming of what was to
befall them that beautiful morning. There were dogs of various sizes and
colours, and, though the greatest fighters had gone hunting, there were
quite enough in the village to have made its capture go hard with the
cats, had it not been that their attack was so sudden and entirely
unexpected.
Just as they had sprung on the village walls, the cats sprang on the
backs of its citizens, of course not touching the puppies, for it was
not their part to make war on babies. The howls with which the
appearance of the army of cats on the walls had been hailed turned into
a chorus of yelps as each dog felt the sharp claws of a cat in his back.
The dogs were bigger than the cats, and more used to fighting, but the
nervous strength of the attacking party more than made up for their
smaller size and less heavy muscles. The dogs tried to shake off their
riders, but the claws did their work well, and the Purrers stuck like
burrs, each soldier to his foe, scratching away and calling upon the dog
to give up, until the citizens of Dog Corners were half-frantic.
One big yellow dog took the lead. “We can’t run around here!” he cried.
“Follow me!” So saying, he dashed for the main gate, his comrades after
him, and made for the woods, each with a cat on his back, running for
dear life to escape from the torment which was fastened on every back.
Two miles from Dog Corners the wild ride slackened. Wutz-Butz discovered
that the big yellow dog carrying him was the King of the Dogs, for Dog
Corners was not a republic, like Purrington, but lived under a king, it
being necessary for dogs to have some one to obey, while cats always
rule themselves.
[Illustration:
“Each with a cat on his back.”]
When Wutz-Butz discovered that he was riding the king, he stopped
clawing him, and asked him to halt for a moment. Rex—of course that was
the king-dog’s name—was only too glad to do so; he was fearfully out of
breath, and his tongue ached from lolling so far.
“Look here, King,” said Wutz-Butz—if it had been Tommy Traddles he would
have begun differently, for his reading would have taught him to salute
a king, in opening his remarks, with the words: “O king, live for ever!”
For that is the only correct way to open regal conversation. However,
Wutz-Butz, being a soldier and not a scholar, said: “Look here, King, I
don’t care about dog-back riding all the morning, and I guess you’ve got
about enough of carrying me. I’m the general of this army. We came down
upon you because we had certain proof that you were coming to take our
town, and capture or kill all of us. We didn’t seem to care about
waiting at home for that kind of visitors, so we hit first—it’s the best
way, if there’s got to be a fight. We’re not scrappy over at Purrington,
and we don’t want fusses with our neighbours, for one thing, and we
don’t want neighbours who are liable to drop down on us, for another.
Now we’ve got you beat, and we’ll never get off your backs till you give
in to our terms.”
“What are your terms?” panted Rex, sadly.
“Easy enough. You’re to move out of this region altogether, and give up
Dog Corners to us. We will go back there and tear it all down, and
there’ll be no more dogs and no more corners—we’ll round them off!” And
Wutz-Butz chuckled at his mild joke.
“You keep on running—without us, you see, so it will be easier—and meet
your friends, while we go back and tear down your village. You tell your
friends that you’re going to move—you’re king, and what you say
goes—_you_ seem to go pretty well, too, and I mean you to go farther. I
don’t believe you’ll fare worse! Now, will you do it, or won’t you?”
“As a conquered king I have no choice but to accept your terms,” said
Rex, in a tone so sad that it ended in a whine.
“Right you are,” said Wutz-Butz, cheerfully, not at all impressed by the
king’s superior speech. “Call up your people, then, and I’ll tell mine
to stop clawing while you issue your orders.”
Rex called the dogs together. “We are conquered, my people,” he said.
“The terms upon which I have agreed to yield to this gentleman upon my
back, who is the general of the cats, is that we remove far from Dog
Corners, and go at once.”
The dogs growled at this announcement, but a claw-prick here and there
reminded them that they were anxious to get rid, on almost any terms, of
the soldiers clinging to them, and they changed their growl into yelps
and howls of acclaim, submitting to the inevitable and the wisdom of
their king.
“Now, then, Purrers,” shouted Ban-Ban, “don’t you jump off these dogs to
the ground. You jump from their backs into the trees, and stay there
until they are out of sight. How shall we know that they are really
gone, and won’t come back?”
Rex turned on Ban-Ban a scornful face. “You look like a gentleman,” he
said, “and if you are one you should know that no gentleman breaks his
pledge. I give you my word that we will fulfil the terms of our
surrender, and a dog is a person of honour.”
Ban-Ban felt rebuked, but ’Clipsy murmured: “You’re all right, old chap,
but I wouldn’t trust all your people, if you weren’t here to keep them
straight.”
[Illustration:
“The cats watched the retreat.”]
At a given signal all the dogs ran close to a tree, and his rider leaped
from the back of each of them, ran up to a high bough, and from that
point the cats watched the retreat of their conquered foes.
It was made without a pause, and in half an hour the cats descended and
marched back to Dog Corners, which was now indeed a deserted village.
It did not take long for the strong claws of the army to tear down every
building in the place. In a short time Dog Corners was no more, and only
a pile of ruins showed where once it had stood.
Upon this pile of ruins the triumphant army sat to eat the lunch which
the forsaken larders of the dogs amply supplied.
Then they sat for a time resting, washing their faces and cleaning their
whiskers, softly rubbing their ears with the velvet paws which, but a
short time before, the dogs had found so little like velvet.
[Illustration:
“They sat for a time resting.”]
At last Wutz-Butz gave the order to march home. The army formed once
more in order, and returned to Purrington. They entered the town just at
sunset, and as they drew near to it, those left within its walls knew
that they were coming victorious, for they were marching to the tune of
“Marching Through Georgia,” to which they sung the following words:
“Here we come victorious,
Our battle fought and won;
We made a Pounce most glorious—
You should have seen them run!
We’ve spent a day laborious,
But yet we tasted fun,
Driving the dogs from their Corners!
_Chorus:_ “Hurrah, hurrah, then give us three times three!
Hurrah, hurrah, we bring you liberty!
The Purrers of dear Purrington are safe as safe can be;
We’ve wiped out the dogs and their Corners!”
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