The Hunter Cats of Connorloa

oldCarmena's distressed face; and the tears would come, spite of all herefforts.

  When Carmena finally understood that not even Mr. Connor, with all hisgood will and all his money, could save them from leaving their home,she cried again as hard as at first; and Ysidro felt ashamed of her, forhe was afraid Mr. Connor would think her ungrateful. But Mr. Connorunderstood it very well.

  "I have lived only two years in my house," he said to Rea, "and I wouldnot change it for one twice as good that anybody could offer me. Thinkhow any one must feel about a house he has lived in all his life."

  "But it is a horrible little house, Uncle George," said Rea,--"thedirtiest hovel I ever saw. It is worse than they are in Italy."

  "I do not believe that makes much difference, dear," said Uncle George."It is their home, all the same, as if it were large and nice. It isthat one loves."

  Just as Mr. Connor and Rea came out of the house, who should come ridingby, but the very man that had caused all this unhappiness,--the lawyerwho had taken Ysidro's land! He was with the man to whom he had sold it.They were riding up and down in the valley, looking over all theirpossessions, and planning what big vineyards and orchards they wouldplant and how much money they would make.

  When this man saw Mr. Connor, he turned as red as a turkey-cock'sthroat. He knew very well what Mr. Connor thought of him; but he bowedvery low.

  Mr. Connor returned his bow, but with such a stern and scornful look onhis face, that Rea exclaimed,--

  "What is the matter, Uncle George? What makes you look so?"

  "That man is a bad man, dear," he replied; "and has the kind of badnessI most despise." But he did not tell her that he was the man who wasresponsible for the Indians being driven out of their home. He thoughtit better for Rea not to know it.

  "Are there different sorts of badness,--some badnesses worse thanothers?" asked Rea.

  "I don't know whether one kind is really any worse than another," saidMr. Connor. "But there are some kinds which seem to me twice as bad asothers; and meanness and cruelty to helpless creatures seem to me thevery worst of all."

  "To me too!" said Rea. "Like turning out poor Ysidro."

  "Yes," said Mr. Connor. "That is just one of the sort I mean."

  Just before they reached the beginning of the lands of Connorloa, theycrossed the grounds of a Mr. Finch, who had a pretty house and largeorange orchards. Mr. Finch had one son, Harry, about Jusy's age, and thetwo boys were great cronies.

  As Mr. Connor turned the horses' heads into these grounds, he saw Jusyand Harry under the trees in the distance.

  "Why, there is Jusy," he said.

  "Yes," said Rea. "Harry came for him before lunch. He said he hadsomething to show him."

  As soon as Jusy caught sight of the carriage, he came running towardsit, crying,--

  "Oh, Uncle George, stop! Rea! come! I've found Snowball! Come, see him!"

  Snowball had been missing for nearly a month, and nobody could imaginewhat had become of him. They finally came to the conclusion that he musthave got killed in some way.

  Mr. Connor stopped the horses; and Rea jumped out and ran after Jusy,and Mr. Connor followed. They found the boys watching excitedly, one ateach end of a little bridge over the ditch, through which the water wasbrought down for irrigating Mr. Finch's orchards. Harry's dogs werethere too, one at each end of the bridge, barking, yelping, watching asexcitedly as the boys. But no Snowball.

  "Where is he?" cried Rea.

  "In under there," exclaimed Jusy. "He's got a rabbit in there; he'll beout presently."

  Sure enough, there he was, plainly to be heard, scuffling and spittingunder the bridge.

  The poor little rabbit ran first to one end of the bridge, then to theother, trying to get out; but at each end he found a dog, barking todrive him back.

  Presently Snowball appeared with the dead rabbit in his teeth. Droppingit on the ground, he looked up at the dogs, as much as to say, "There!Can't I hunt rabbits as well as you do?" Then they all three, the twodogs and he, fell to eating the rabbit in the friendliest manner.

  "Don't you think!" cried Jusy. "He's been hunting this way, with thesedogs, all this time. You see they are so big they can't get in under thebridge, and he can; so they drive the rabbits in under there, and hegoes in and gets them. Isn't he smart? Harry first saw him doing it twoweeks ago, he says. He didn't know it was our cat, and he wondered whoseit could be. But Snowball and the dogs are great friends. They gotogether all the time; and wherever he is, if he hears them bark, heknows they've started up something, and he comes flying! I think it isjust splendid!"

  "Poor little thing!" said Rea, looking at the fast-disappearing rabbit.

  "Why, you eat them yourself!" shouted Jusy. "You said it was as good aschicken, the other day. It isn't any worse for cats and dogs to eatthem, than it is for us; is it, Uncle George?"

  "I think Jusy has the best of the argument this time, pet," said UncleGeorge, looking fondly at Jusy.

  "Girls are always that way," said Harry politely. "My sisters are justso. They can't bear to see anything killed."

  After this day, Rea spent most of her time in the canon, watching themen at work on Ysidro's house.

  The canon was a wild place; it was a sort of split in the rocky sides ofthe mountain; at the top it was not much more than two precipices joinedtogether, with just room enough for a brook to come down. You can see inthe picture where it was, though it looks there like little more than agroove in the rocks. But it was really so big in some places that hugesycamore trees grew in it, and there were little spaces of good earth,where Mr. Connor had planted orchards.

  It was near these, at the mouth of the canon, that he put Ysidro'shouse. It was built out of mud bricks, called adobe, as near aspossible like Ysidro's old house,--two small rooms, and a thatched roofmade of reeds, which grew in a swamp.

  But Mr. Connor did not call it Ysidro's house. He called it Rea's house;and the men called it "the senorita's house." It was to be her own, Mr.Connor said,--her own to give as a present to Ysidro and Carmena.

  When the day came for them to move in, Jim went down with the big wagon,and a bed in the bottom, to bring old Carmena up. There was plenty ofroom in the wagon, besides, for the few little bits of furniture theyhad.

  Mr. Connor and Jusy and Rea were at the house waiting, when they came.The cook had made a good supper of meat and potato, and Rea had put iton the table, all ready for them.

  When they lifted Carmena out of the wagon, she held, tight clutched inher hand, a small basket filled with earth; she seemed hardly willing tolet go of it for a moment.

  "What is that?" said Jusy.

  "A few handfuls of the earth that was ours," replied Ysidro. "We havebrought it with us, to keep it always. The man who has our home will notmiss it."

  The tears came into Mr. Connor's eyes, and he turned away.

  Rea did not understand. She looked puzzled; so did Jusy.

  Jim explained. "The Indian women often do that," he said. "When theyhave to move away from a home they love they carry a little of the earthwith them; sometimes they put it in a little bag, and wear it hanging ontheir necks; sometimes they put it under their heads at night."

  "Yes," said Carmena, who had listened to what Jim said. "One can sleepbetter on the earth that one loves."

  "I say, Rea!" cried Jusy. "It is a shame they had to come away!"

  "I told you so, Jusy," said Rea gently. "But you didn't seem to carethen."

  "Well, I do now!" he cried. "I didn't think how bad they'd feel. Now ifit were in Italy, I'd go and tell the King all about it. Who is thereto tell here?" he continued, turning to his Uncle George. "Who is therehere, to tell about such things? There must be somebody."

  Mr. Connor smiled sadly. "The trouble is, there are too many," he said.

  "Who is above all the rest?" persisted Jusy. "Isn't there somebody atthe top, as our King is in Italy?"

  "Yes, there is one above all the rest," replied Mr. Connor. "We call himthe President."

&
nbsp; "Well, why don't you write and tell him about Ysidro?" said Jusy. "Iwish I could see him, I'd tell him. It's a shame!"

  "Even the President could not help this, Jusy," said Mr. Connor. "Thelaw was against poor Ysidro; there was no help; and there are thousandsand thousands of Indians in just the same condition he is."

  "Doesn't the President make the laws?" said Jusy.

  "No," said Mr. Connor. "Congress makes the laws."

  "Oh," said Jusy, "like our