SILVERTIP LEARNS A LESSON
You may remember what a funny time Silvertip had with the first Mousehe caught; how he carried it so long in his mouth before daring to layit down, and how frightened he was each time that it wriggled. Thatwas because he was just beginning to hunt. Cats have to learn by doingthings over and over, just like other people. He used to hear theLittle Boy sing.
If at first you do not try Try, try again.
After a while he heard him sing.
If at first you don't succeed Try, try again.
He did not understand just what this meant, but he soon knew thatLittle Boys have to learn things quite as Cats do. He watched himafterward learning to turn summersaults, and saw him do just that andnothing else for nearly a whole afternoon.
It was in some such way that Silvertip came to be a good hunter. Heused to spend whole hours under the low branches of some evergreen,crouching and springing at every passing bird. In summer he crawledthrough the wheat-field back of the house, looking for Mice. If hefound nothing better, he caught Moles, although he never ate them. Hethought that Moles were probably made for Cats to practice on, andthat good little Cats, who did the best they could on Moles, wouldfind Mice to catch after a while--if they were patient.
When he could not find anything alive to hunt, he practiced on thedead leaves which were blown over the lawn, or chased empty spoolsacross the kitchen floor. In the spring, when the Gentleman went outbefore breakfast to work in his garden, Silvertip played with theonion sets, chasing them down the narrow trench in which they had beenplaced, until the Gentleman had to carry him off and shut him up.
This is how he became so fine a hunter, and it is perhaps not strangethat after a while he grew conceited. You know what it means to beconceited. Well, Silvertip was so. He thought himself really thecleverest Cat that had ever lived, a Cat who could catch anything hetried to. He bragged to the other Cats who came around, and when hewas alone he purred to himself about the fine things he could do. Nowpeople who think themselves clever are not always conceited, forsometimes they are as clever as they think. But when a person isalways thinking and talking about what he can do, you watch him to seeif he does as well as he thinks. If not, then he is conceited.
Silvertip even used to climb nearly to the top of the tall maple-treesafter Blackbirds, and crouch there, switching his tail, yet he nevercaught any. When the other Cats asked him about this, he would smile,and say that he decided not to eat any more just then, or that he hadfound that Blackbirds disagreed with him. Undoubtedly these excuseswere both true, still they did not keep him from trying again andagain.
The only Blackbird he ever caught was a young one who had disobeyedher mother and flopped away from the tangle of rosebushes where shehad been told to stay. She was dreadfully punished for it--but then itwas very wrong for her not to mind her mother. If she had stayed whereshe was, the thorns would have kept Cats away.
Silvertip had been in the big house nearly a year, when Mr. Chipmunkcame to live in the yard. He chose to burrow under the open shedwhich ran along by the back fence, and under which wood was piled todry before it was split and carried into the wood-house. He was thefirst Chipmunk who had ever lived on the place, and all his newneighbors were much interested in him.
"Shall you bring your family here?" Mr. Robin asked him, as he watchedhis own children caring for themselves. Mr. Robin had worked hard allsummer, and now he was enjoying a little visiting time before startingsouth.
"My family?" answered Mr. Chipmunk, with a chuckling laugh. "No,indeed! One is company and two is crowd with Chipmunks. Of coursemothers have to live with their children for a time, but fathersalways have holes to themselves."
Mr. Robin did not think that right, yet he kept still. He knew that itis not always wise or polite to say all that one thinks. He thought itwas not fair to make the mothers have all the care of the children.There is great difference in animals about this.
Mr. Chipmunk began at once to dig his burrow. He had not seenSilvertip yet, and did not know that there was a Cat around. He beganjust in front of the woodpile, and when he had enough earth loosenedto fill his cheek-pockets, he brought it out and emptied it by thedoorway of his burrow. Quite a pile was there already when Silvertipcame walking past.
"Meouw!" said he. "What sort of creature is at work here?"
Mr. Chipmunk heard his voice, and lay still in his burrow. IfSilvertip had not spoken just then, this story might end verydifferently. In fact, it would probably be ended already. "A Cat!"said he. "Well, it is always something, and it might as well be a Catas a Dog. He won't be so likely to dig me out, anyway."
After a long time he turned around, and went quietly toward thedoor-way of the burrow, just far enough to see who was there. What hesaw was a white face with tiger spots and a pink nose. Long whitewhiskers stuck out on either side, and the nose was twitching.Silvertip was trying to get a good smell of the new-comer.
Mr. Chipmunk did not move, and being brown and in the darkness of thehole, Silvertip, who stood in the sunshine, could not see him. For along time neither moved. Then Silvertip walked slowly away. He was notvery hungry that morning. Mr. Chipmunk always believed in keepingstill as long as possible. "If the other fellow is the larger," saidhe, "always wait to see what he is going to do. Then you can decidebetter what you should do."
After this Silvertip came often to the burrow. He learned the Chipmunkby smell long before he saw him. When at last he did see him, Mr.Chipmunk was perched on a low stick of wood, with his small fore pawsclasped on his breast and his beautiful fur glistening in thesunshine. He was facing Silvertip, so the Cat did not see the fivedark stripes on his back till later.
Silvertip crouched and tried his muscles by shaking himself a little.He did not say that it was a pleasant day, or that he was glad tobecome acquainted with Mr. Chipmunk. He did not even say, "I see youare making a new home!" He was sure this was the little creature whomhe had been smelling for several days, and he saw no use in sayinganything. He meant to eat Mr. Chipmunk, and Mr. Chipmunk understoodit. There was really nothing to be said. Mr. Chipmunk might object tobeing eaten. People usually did object to it, but Silvertip saw nosense in talking it over. He would rather have no conversationwhatever at meals than to speak of disagreeable things or to quarrel.
Mr. Chipmunk did not care to talk, either. He believed in thinkingbefore you speak, and he had a great deal of thinking to do just then.A team stopped by the gate of the driveway. Mr. Chipmunk dared notlook to see what was coming. Silvertip did not look until the Milkmanwas near him carrying the milk bottles. Then he gave one quick upwardglance. When he looked back, the stick of wood was there, but Mr.Chipmunk was gone.
Silvertip was not at all happy, and he felt still worse when Mr.Chipmunk stuck his saucy little face out of the burrow and called,"Chip-r-r-r! Milk is better for Cats anyway, you know!" Mr. Chipmunkdid not have to stop to think when he was in his hole.
That was the beginning of the acquaintance, and a very merry one itwas for Mr. Chipmunk. "I have to be hunted anyway," he said, "so Imight as well have some fun out of it."
Whenever he saw Silvertip having an especially comfortable nap, hewould run near and give his chirping, chuckling laugh. Then he wouldrun away. Sometimes he would stand as still as a stone, with his tinyfore paws clasped on his breast. Silvertip would creep and crawl upclose to him, and he would act too scared to move. Then, just asSilvertip was ready to spring, he would cry out, "Chip-r-r-r!" andtumble heels over head into his burrow.
Sometimes, too, Silvertip would be walking along as happily aspossible, not even thinking of Chipmunks, when a mischievous littleface would peep out from the woodpile just beside him. Mr. Chipmunkwould say "Good-morning!" then draw back and disappear, only to peepout again and again from new places as the Cat came along. You knownothing can catch a Chipmunk when he is in a woodpile. The worst of itwas that there always seemed to be so many other people around to seehow poor Silvertip was teased. You would never have thou
ght thatSilvertip was hunting Mr. Chipmunk. It always seemed to be Mr.Chipmunk who was hunting Silvertip.
At last Mr. Chipmunk had his burrow all done. He had made an openingat the second end and closed the one at the first, so nobody couldtell from the pile of earth what had been happening. He said he hadcrawled into the hole and pulled it in after him. The last opening,which was now to be his only door, was under the woodpile. No raincould fall into it and no Dog could dig at it. Mr. Chipmunk was veryhappy.
He made friends with the Lady, too. She seemed to be perfectlyharmless, and she brought him a great deal of corn and manypeanuts. Sometimes he found butternuts tucked around in the woodpile,which could not possibly have fallen from any tree. He decided that hemight come to some sort of agreement with Silvertip. He got ready forit by being more annoying than ever. When Silvertip's tail wasswitching and his nose twitching with anger, Mr. Chipmunk peeped outfrom a hollow stick in the pile and called to him.
MR. CHIPMUNK ON THE WOODPILE. _Page 142_]
"Silvertip!" cried he, "O Silvertip! I want to talk with you. Howwould you like to be eaten up?"
There was no answer, except a murmuring under his breath that he"guessed there wasn't much danger."
"Enjoy the acquaintance, do you, Silvertip?" asked Mr. Chipmunk. "Findme a pleasant talker? Ever tell anybody that you were going to eatme?"
Now Silvertip had told some of his friends exactly that, but this wasbefore he knew so much about Chipmunks. He growled something underhis breath about "Quit your teasing."
"I will if you will quit trying to catch me," answered Mr. Chipmunk."Tell your friends that you changed your mind. Tell them that I am notto your taste. Tell them anything you wish, but let me alone and Iwill let you alone."
"All right," said Silvertip. "Now don't you ever speak to me again."
"Never!" answered Mr. Chipmunk. "Walnuts couldn't hire me to!" Andafter that there was peace around the woodpile.
Dooryard Stories Page 13
