The Hunter Cats of Connorloa

him. Jim named him Skipper, because heused to race about in trees like a squirrel. Way up to the very top ofthe biggest sycamore trees in the canon back of the house, Skipper wouldgo, and leap from one bough to another. He was especially fond of birds,and in this way he caught many. He thought birds were much bettereating than gophers.

  Mexican, Big Tom, China Tom, Snowball, Skipper, and Fresco,--these aresix of the names; the other four were not remarkable; they did not meananything in especial; only to distinguish their owners from the rest,who had no names at all.

  Oh, yes; I am forgetting the drollest of all: that was Humbug. Jim gaveher that name because she was so artful and sly about getting more thanher share of the meat. She would watch for the biggest pieces, andpounce on them right under some other cat's nose, and almost alwayssucceed in getting them. So Jim named her Humbug, which was a very goodname; for she always pretended to be quieter and stiller than the rest,as if she were not in any great hurry about her breakfast; and then shewhisked in, and got the biggest pieces, and twice as much as any othercat there.

  The other names were Jenny, Capitan, and Growler. That made the ten.

  In a very few days after Jusy and Rea arrived, they knew all these cats'names as well as Jim did; and they were never tired of watching them attheir morning meal, or while they were prowling, looking, and waitingfor gophers and rabbits.

  For a long time, Rea carried Fairy tight in her arms whenever there wasa cat in sight; but after a while, the cats all came to know Fairy sowell that they took no notice of her, and it was safe to put her on theground and let her run along. But Rea kept close to her, and neverforgot her for a single minute.

  There were many strange things which these cats did, besides hunting thegophers. They used also to hunt snakes. In one of the rocky ravines nearthe house there were large snakes of a beautiful golden-brown color. Onwarm days these used to crawl out, and lie sunning themselves on therocks. Woe to any such snake, if one of the cats caught sight of him!Big Tom had a special knack at killing them. He would make a bound, andcome down with his fore claws firm planted in the middle of the snake'sback; then he would take it in his teeth, and shake it, flapping itshead against the stones every time, till it was more dead than alive.You would not have thought that so big a snake could have been sohelpless in the claws of a cat.

  Another thing the cats did, which gave the men much amusement, was, thatwhen they had killed rabbits they carried the bodies into the mules'stables. Mules are terribly frightened at the smell of a dead rabbit.Whenever this happened, a great braying and crying and stamping would beheard in the stables; and on running to see what was the matter, therewould be found Big Tom or Skipper, sitting down calm and happy by theside of a dead rabbit, which he had carried in, and for some reason orother best known to himself had deposited in plain sight of the mules.Why they chose to carry dead rabbits there, unless it was that theyenjoyed seeing the mules so frightened, there seemed no explaining. Theynever took dead gophers up there, or snakes; only the rabbits. Once amule was so frightened that he plunged till he broke his halter, gotfree, and ran off down the hill; and the men had a big chase before theyovertook him.

  But the queerest thing of all that happened, was that the cats adopted askunk; or else it was the skunk that adopted the cats; I don't knowwhich would be the proper way of stating it; but at any rate the skunkjoined the family, lived with them in the woodpile, came with them everymorning to be fed, and went off with them hunting gophers every day. Itmust have been there some time before Jim noticed it, for when he firstsaw it, it was already on the most familiar and friendly terms with allthe cats. It was a pretty little black and white creature, and looked agood deal like one of Mexican's kittens.

  Finally it became altogether too friendly: Jim found it in the kitchencellar one day; and a day or two after that, it actually walked intothe house. Mr. Connor was sitting in his library writing. He heard asoft, furry foot patting on the floor, and thought it was Fairy.Presently he looked up; and, to his horror, there was the cunning littleblack and white skunk in the doorway, looking around and sniffingcuriously at everything, like a cat. Mr. Connor held his breath and didnot dare stir, for fear the creature should take it into its head thathe was an enemy. Seeing everything so still, the skunk walked in, walkedaround both library and dining-room, taking minute observations ofeverything by means of its nose. Then it softly patted out again, acrossthe hall, and out of the front door, down the veranda steps.

  It had seemed an age to Mr. Connor; he could hardly help laughing too,as he sat there in his chair, to think how helpless he, a grown-up man,felt before a creature no bigger than that,--a little thing whose neckhe could wring with one hand; and yet he no more dared to touch it, ortry to drive it out, than if it had been a roaring lion. As soon as itwas fairly out of the way, Mr. Connor went in search of Jim.

  "Jim," said he, "that skunk you were telling me about, that the cats hadadopted, seems to be thinking of adopting me; he spent some time in thelibrary with me this morning, looking me over; and I am afraid he likedme and the place much too well. I should like to have him killed. Canyou manage it?"

  "Yes, sir," laughed Jim. "I was thinking I'd have to kill him. I caughthim in the cellar a day or two since, and I thought he was getting tofeel too much at home. I'll fix him."

  So the next morning Jim took a particularly nice and tempting piece ofmeat, covered it with poison, and just as the cats' breakfast wasfinished, and the cats slowly dispersing, he threw this tidbit directlyat the little skunk. He swallowed it greedily, and before noon he wasdead.

  Jim could not help being sorry when he saw him stretched out stiff nearhis home in the woodpile. "He was a pert little rascal;" said Jim. "Idid kind o' hate to kill him; but he should have stayed with his ownfolks, if he wanted to be let alone. It's too dangerous having skunksround."

  In less than a year's time, there was not a rabbit to be seen on Mr.Connor's grounds, and only now and then a gopher, the hunter cats haddone their work so thoroughly.

  But there was one other enemy that Mr. Connor would have to be rid of,before he could have any great success with his fruit orchards. You willbe horrified to hear the name of this enemy. It was the linnet. Yes, themerry, chirping, confiding little linnets, with their pretty red headsand bright eyes, they also were enemies, and must be killed. They weretoo fond of apricots and peaches and pears and raspberries, and allother nice fruits.

  If birds only had sense enough, when they want a breakfast or dinner offruit, to make it off one, or even two,--eat the peach or the pear orwhatever it might be all up, as we do,--they might be tolerated inorchards; nobody would grudge a bird one peach or cherry. But that isn'ttheir way. They like to hop about in the tree, and take a nip out offirst one, then another, and then another, till half the fruit on thetree has been bitten into and spoiled. In this way, they ruin bushels offruit every season.

  "I wonder if we could not teach the cats to hunt linnets, Jim," said Mr.Connor one morning. It was at the breakfast-table.

  "O Uncle George! the dear sweet little linnets!" exclaimed Rea, ready tocry.

  "Yes, my dear sweet little girl," said Uncle George. "The dear sweetlittle linnets will not leave us a single whole peach or apricot orcherry to eat."

  "No!" said Jusy, "they're a perfect nuisance. They've pecked at everyapricot on the trees already."

  "I don't care," said Rea. "Why can't they have some? I'd just as sooneat after a linnet as not. Their little bills must be all clean andsweet. Don't have them killed, Uncle George."

  "No danger but that there will be enough left, dear," said Uncle George."However many we shoot, there will be enough left. I believe we mightkill a thousand to-day and not know the difference."

  The cats had already done a good deal at hunting linnets on their ownaccount, in a clandestine and irregular manner. They were fond of linnetflesh, and were only too glad to have the assistance of an able-bodiedman with a gun.

  When they first comprehended Jim's plan,--that he would go along with
his gun, and they should scare the linnets out of the trees, wait forthe shot, watch to see where the birds fell, and then run and pick themup,--it was droll to see how clever they became in carrying it out.Retriever dogs could not have done better. The trouble was, that Jimcould shoot birds faster than the cats could eat them; and no cat wouldstir from his bird till it was eaten up, sometimes feathers and all; andafter he had had three or four, he didn't care about any more that day.To tell the truth, after the first few days, they seemed a little tiredof the linnet diet, and did not work with so much enthusiasm. But atfirst it was droll, indeed, to see their excitement. As soon as Jimappeared with his gun, every cat in sight would come scampering; and itwould not be many minutes before the rest of the band--however theymight have been scattered,--would somehow or