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Tale of Grandfather Mole (version 2)

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<h2>II</h2> <h3>WHAT THE CAT CAUGHT</h3> Everybody knew the cat at Farmer Green's to be a great hunter. She had long since disposed of the last mouse that was so foolish as to venture inside her home. And being very big, and not at all timid, she had made such a name for herself in the neighborhood that even the rats looked on her as a monster to be avoided. Now it often happened that this capable cat turned up her nose at the saucer of milk that Farmer Green's wife set before her with great regularity. And off she would go—sometimes to the barn, sometimes to the fields—to see what she could find that would furnish her both food and a frolic. For she thought it great sport to capture some small creature. She was crossing the garden early one morning, on her way to the meadow, when she came upon Grandfather Mole. And having no pity for him—in spite of his blindness—she thought there was no sense in going any further for her breakfast. She would enjoy it right there in the garden. But first she would play with Grandfather Mole, before eating. For she was a pleasure-loving dame. She must have her sport, no matter if her breakfast waited. Grandfather Mole had blundered that morning. Burrowing his way just under the surface of the ground, he had broken through the sun-baked crust of the garden before he knew it. And as he groped about, surprised to find himself in the open, Miss Kitty had pounced upon him. Grandfather Mole struggled to escape. And his captor let him go, to give herself the pleasure of pouncing upon him again. She knew well enough that he couldn't get away from her. He could run quite spryly for an old gentleman—it is true. But when he couldn't see where he was going, of what use was running? Farmer Green's cat didn't know the answer to that question herself. She captured and freed Grandfather Mole several times. And to tell the truth, she couldn't help wishing he could see, so he could make the game livelier. But she was the sort of cat that believes in making the best of things. And she kept pretending that Grandfather Mole almost got away from her. She would let him run about for a few moments and then she would leap upon him as if she had nearly lost him. It was great fun for the cat. But Grandfather Mole did not enjoy it in the least. He thought such treatment far from neighborly. And he quite agreed with old Mr. Crow, who had come hurrying up to see what was going on. "Give him a chance! Give him a chance!" Mr. Crow called to the cat, as he glared down at her from a tree close by. The cat had been about to spring at Grandfather Mole again when Mr. Crow spoke to her. It was only natural that she should pause and turn her head. And she looked at Mr. Crow none too pleasantly. "I'll thank you to mind your own affairs," she said, and her voice was not nearly so polite as her words. "No gentleman would interrupt a lady at her breakfast," she added. Something seemed to amuse Mr. Crow, for he laughed loudly. The cat didn't know what he was laughing at. And after staring at him a few moments longer she turned her head to look at Grandfather Mole. It wasn't more than ten seconds since she had taken her eyes off him. But Grandfather Mole had vanished. <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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