CHAPTER VI

MRS. BRINDLE BRINGS STARTLING NEWS

The twenty cats broke into a run at the sound of that weak mew. Although it was not repeated, with their keen eyes, made to see in the dark, and their keen noses, made to smell out all kinds of the micest secrets, they had no trouble in finding poor little Nugget. There he lay on the bank, hardly beyond the reach of the water, wet, cold, too exhausted to mew again, although he could hear with his failing senses the voices of the Purrers come to secure him.

Kiku-san saw him first, and gently pointed him out to Bidelia, afraid as he did so that they had come too late, that Nugget was already dead. The delicate legs hung limp, the head had fallen forward, the eyes, still half-blue in colour, were glazed, and the mouth that had called them was open.

Bidelia stiffened with dread as she saw her kitten, but instantly darted forward, calling: “M-m-m-mmmmm!” That coaxing mother-note in which all cats call their kittens so lovingly. As she cooed to Nugget, she bent over him, nosing him, licking him frantically, yet with the wisest, strongest strokes, for, young as she was, and without having taken a course of First Aids to the Injured, her mother-love taught her how best to bring Nugget back.

Her friends stood by watching the little mother, herself scarcely more than a kitten, anxiously hoping that she would warm Nugget into life. And she did. Though a few minutes longer delay and the rescuers would have come too late, Nugget was still on the right side of the line between life and death when he was found, and he rewarded his mother’s rapid work on his limp little body by moving a paw and uttering another plaintive little mew.

“Let us help you,” cried Daisy Bell and Mrs. Blotch, while the other cats heaved a sigh of relief, well knowing that if Nugget turned to come back to them the battle was as good as won. Daisy Bell and Mrs. Blotch, experienced in the care of kittens, fell to licking with Bidelia, and did it with so much good-will that the soft, wet little form rocked back and forth on the grass, and the kitten soon opened both eyes as the grateful warmth of the busy tongues dried his yellow fur and set his chilled blood in motion.

Bidelia licked around the kitten’s face, and Nugget put both paws around her neck.

“I’m dreadful sorry, mamma,” he whispered, so sincerely that he forgot to speak like Tommy Traddles’s best grammar scholar.

“Yes, dear, but I’m only glad just now that you are safe,” Bidelia whispered back.

“Scamp coaxed me to go fishing with him; I didn’t want to, but he said I was ’fraid-cat, so I went,” Nugget continued. “He was ugly after he got me here, and I mewed, so he pushed me into the water, and ran away. I kept up, and kept swimming—I don’t see how I swam; nobody taught me.”

“Oh, everybody knows how to swim without teaching, everybody except human beings,” said Bidelia. “Go on, dearest.”

“I swam, but I could not get to shore,” sobbed Nugget. “Not for the longest, longest time! And I felt so weak, and I was so frightened, and it was so dark, and there were you and Dolly and Puttel all safe at home, and I thought I was never going to see you—” Nugget broke off, sobbing with all his might.

“There, there, dear, darling little Nugget, don’t talk about it, don’t tell me any more now!” said Bidelia, soothing him by the softest kisses and pats. “I know all about it. At last you did get to the bank, and crawled up, and lay there dying, when you heard the good Purrers singing to you, and gathered strength for just one tiny mew; just enough, dear, to save you. And now you’re going to get well fast, and we are going to take you home where Mrs. Brindle has warm milk for you, and never, never again are you going to be a naughty kitten, and disobey your little mother. Isn’t that it, my poor little Nugget?”

Nugget cuddled down close into Bidelia’s soft neck. “That’s right, mamma,” he said.

Bidelia gave a few quick purrs of happiness. It really was worth Nugget’s suffering and her own misery to have her kitten freed for ever from the bad influence of Scamp. She turned to her friends with a bright smile. “How shall we get this poor, naughty kitten home, dear Purrers? He is far too weak to walk.”

“We’ll make a cat’s-cradle,” said Ban-Ban, promptly.

Now a cat’s-cradle is not what most of us understand it to be. The real cat’s-cradle, from which the one we make with strings got its name, is made in this manner: an equal number of cats form themselves into two lines, walking abreast, one line behind the other. The rear line gently takes into its mouths the tips of the tails in the front line, which thus form, as one can easily see, a sort of hammock upon which a kitten, or any not too great weight, may be carried.

In this case ten cats made a line abreast, and ten more, in another line abreast, took the tips of the ten preceding tails into their mouths, and Nugget was laid on the cradle thus made, whereon he swung as easily as a Baltimore oriole in its nest, and slept peacefully while his kind protectors bore him home.

Madam Laura, with Dolly Varden and Puttel, were at the door of the apartment-house, eagerly watching for the return of the search-party. It was the shriek of glad mews which they raised that woke Nugget from his sleep of exhaustion, and told him that he was once more with his sisters, whose qualities as “mere girl kittens” he no longer despised, since they had been good, while he had been both foolish and naughty.

Bidelia, Laura, Ban-Ban, and Wutz-Butz took Nugget at once to Mrs. Brindle’s house to get her to give the poor kitten some warm milk.

As soon as she saw them the cow uttered a long moo of welcome. “I thought you would never get here to-night,” she said when they were within hearing. “I have news for you that I could hardly wait to tell you.”

“Nugget has been lost and nearly drowned,” said Ban-Ban. “We were out hunting for him. Will you please let down some milk for him while you are telling us your news?”

“I was out walking to-day over at the other side of the woods,” Brindle began at once, as she obligingly let down her foaming milk into the pan Ban-Ban offered her. Cows never waste time beating around the bush when they have anything to say. “I came upon something there that shocked me. Purrington is in danger.”

“In danger from what?” demanded Ban-Ban, who was always the one with whom Brindle preferred to talk, as he was her first friend among the Purrers.

“There is a settlement of dogs over there,” said Brindle, gravely. “The place is called Dog Corners. I heard the dogs talking. They were saying that they had just learned of the existence of Purrington, and that they meant to attack the city, destroy it, and capture or kill all the cats in it.

“They never dreamed that I, a cow, was one of the people of Purrington,” she added, nodding her head up and down as a low growl of indignant horror arose from her hearers; even Nugget stopped drinking to join in it. “The dogs talked freely, although they saw me standing there. I half-shut my eyes, and pretended to be interested in nothing but my cud. But you may be sure I listened to every word, and I have been nervous ever since because no one came near me to be warned of the danger.”

Wutz-Butz stood with his feet braced, and every separate hair bristling with fury. “It may come to-night,” he growled very low, and Ban-Ban, Laura, and Bidelia understood that he meant the dogs’ attack on Purrington, and thrilled at his words.

“There isn’t a moment to lose. We must consult the others, and arrange for meeting this attack,” cried Ban-Ban. “Bidelia and Madam Laura, Wutz-Butz and I must leave you to bring Nugget home when you are ready. Mrs. Brindle, you are a cow in a thousand. You are full of the milk of human kindness and fidelity to your friends. We will do something to prove how we appreciate you when this danger is past. Wutz-Butz, come on!” And Ban-Ban flew like a streak of quick-silver—he was about the same colour—down the street, and Wutz-Butz flew after him as fast as his greater weight allowed.

The big bell in the town hall had never been rung. When it was hung Doctor Traddles had given a lecture in the hall on an incident in Scottish history, when one of the lords had asked in council who would bell the cat. Doctor Traddles pointed out that they, being cats, would reverse the order of the question, and ask: Who will bell the council-room? It was considered a most happy allusion, and Tommy Traddles’s wit was still quoted. But the bell had never, till this day, been rung. Now it pealed forth, calling together all the Purrers of Purrington for a council of war.

Wutz-Butz, as the most experienced soldier, was in the chair, presiding over the meeting. The cats looked very serious. An attack on their city by dogs was not a thing to be regarded lightly.

“Gentlemen,” said Wutz-Butz, after a hasty whispered consultation with Tommy Traddles as to the proper way to proceed with the meeting, “I should be glad to hear from you what you consider the best way to meet the attack which Mrs. Brindle has warned us that the dogs of Dog Corners intend to make upon us.”

There were a great many good fighters in Purrington now, thanks to the number of cats who had joined the first settlers, and who had spent their days fighting for their lives in the human city’s streets; but they were better fighters than talkers, and no one responded to Wutz-Butz’s request for advice as to the best method of meeting the danger threatening them.

Finally Ban-Ban arose, looking around at the council. “I am not a fighting cat,” he said, “but since those who are seem shy about addressing us, let me state my opinion and offer my advice on the matter before us. We all know that those who attack are better placed than those who are attacked. They have but themselves to take care of, while the attacked have to consider their wives and children, and suffer the loss of their homes if the attack is at all successful. Hence I propose that, instead of waiting in Purrington for the dogs to attack us, we march on Dog Corners and wipe it off the map. We will send Brindle to find out when the dogs will be away, because, if they are free dogs, they must go off on long runs—even pet dogs do that. When we find out that most of the fighting dogs are absent, we will fall on their settlement and put to flight every puppy in it. It is right for us to do this, because as long as there is a dog village so near Purrington we shall never be safe.”

This speech, plain and to the point, was received with great applause. It was moved, seconded, and carried that the Purrers of Purrington should make war upon Dog Corners on the first day possible. Wutz-Butz was appointed Commander of the Cats, with ’Clipsy second in command, and Tommy Traddles and Ban-Ban staff-officers, for consultation.

A city guard was appointed for that night to patrol the streets and alarm the Purrers should the attack be made at once. Then the meeting broke up, but not until the cats had sung, to the air of “Hail Columbia:”

“Let the wild dogs now beware, We are bristling up our hair; We have now unsheathed our claws, We have made our martial laws, And, when dogs shall dare attack, With growls and spits we’ll drive them back! For Purrington we’ll make a fight, Strong, because our cause is right. Liberty! our countersign; You for yours, but I for mine!

_Chorus:_ “Like one cat we’ll meet the foe; Like one paw we’ll lay him low. Courage, then, Cat Heroes! Draw Claws, and strike with heart in paw!”