CHAPTER VII

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—

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.

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.”

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.

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!”