My aunt's cry brought out Uncle Joseph in a terrible state of
excitement, and it was not until after a long chase and Buzzy was caught
that she could be made to believe that he had not received a mortal
wound. And a tremendous chase it was, for the more Uncle Joseph and I
tried to circumvent that cat, the more he threw himself into the fun of
the hunt and dodged us, running up trees like a squirrel, leaping down
with his tail swollen to four times its usual size, and going over the
beds in graceful bounds, till Uncle Joseph sat down to pant and wipe his
face while I continued the chase; but all in vain. Sometimes I nearly
caught the cat, but he would be off again just as I made a spring to
seize him, while all Aunt Sophia's tender appeals to "poor Buzzy then,"
"my poor pet then," fell upon ears that refused to hear her.
"Oh how stupid I am!" I said to myself. "Oh, Buzzy, this is too bad to
give me such a chase. Come here, sir, directly;" and I stooped down.
It had the required result, for Buzzy leaped down off the wall up which
he had scrambled, jumped on to my back, settled himself comfortably with
his fore-paws on my shoulder, and began to purr with satisfaction.
"I am glad, my boy," said Uncle Joseph, "so glad you have caught him;
but have you hurt him much?"
"He isn't hurt at all, uncle," I said. "It was all in play."
"But your aunt is in agony, my boy. Here, let me take the cat to her."
He stretched out his hands to take the cat from my shoulder, but Buzzy's
eyes dilated and he began to swear, making my uncle start back, for he
dreaded a scratch from anything but a rose thorn, and those he did not
mind.
"Would you mind taking him to your aunt, Natty, my boy?" he said.
"No, uncle, if you'll please come too," I said. "Don't let aunt scold
me, uncle; I'm very sorry, and it was only play."
"I'll come with you, Nat," he said, shaking his head; "but I ought not
to have let you have that bow, and I'm afraid she will want it burnt."
"Will she be very cross?" I said.
"I'm afraid so, my boy." And she really was.
"Oh you wicked, wicked boy," she cried as I came up; "what were you
doing?"
"Only playing at tiger-hunting, aunt," I said.
"With my poor darling Buzzy! Come to its own mistress then, Buzzy," she
cried pityingly. "Did the wicked, cruel boy--oh dear!"
_Wur-r-ur! spit, spit_!
That was Buzzy's reply to his mistress's attempt to take him from my
shoulder, and he made an attempt to scratch.
"And he used to be as gentle as a lamb," cried my aunt. "You wicked,
wicked boy, you must have hurt my darling terribly to make him so angry
with his mistress whom he loves."
I protested that I had not, but it was of no use, and I was in great
disgrace for some days; but Aunt Sophia forgot to confiscate my
crossbow.
The scolding I received ought to have had more effect upon me, but it
did not; for it was only a week afterwards that I was again in disgrace,
and for the same fault, only with this difference, that in my fancy the
garden had become a South African desert, and Nap was the lion I was
engaged in hunting.
I did him no harm, I am sure, but a great deal of good, with the
exercise; and the way in which he entered into the sport delighted me.
He charged me and dashed after me when I fled; when I hid behind trees
to shoot at him he seized the arrows, if they hit him, and worried them
fiercely; while whenever they missed him, in place of dashing at me he
would run after the arrows and bring them in his mouth to where he
thought I was hiding.
I don't think Nap had any more sense than dogs have in general, but he
would often escape from my aunt when I came home from school, and run
before me to the big cupboard where I kept my treasures, raise himself
upon his hind-legs, and tear at the door till I opened it and took out
the crossbow, when he would frisk round and round in the highest state
of delight, running out into the garden, dashing back, running out
again, and entering into the spirit of the game with as much pleasure as
I did.
But the fun to be got out of a crossbow gets wearisome after a time,
especially when you find that in spite of a great deal of practice it is
very hard to hit anything that is at all small.
The time glided on, and I was very happy still with my uncle; but
somehow Aunt Sophia seemed to take quite a dislike to me; and no matter
how I tried to do what was right, and to follow out my uncle's wishes, I
was always in trouble about something or another.
One summer Uncle Joseph bought me a book on butterflies, with coloured
plates, which so interested me that I began collecting the very next
day, and captured a large cabbage butterfly.
No great rarity this, but it was a beginning; and after pinning it out
as well as I could I began to think of a cabinet, collecting-boxes, a
net, and a packet of entomological pins.