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diff --git a/28385-h/28385-h.htm b/28385-h/28385-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0757497 --- /dev/null +++ b/28385-h/28385-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2500 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hunter Cats of Connorloa, by Helen Jackson (H. H.). + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + div.trans-note {border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; + margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: center;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hunter Cats of Connorloa, by Helen Jackson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hunter Cats of Connorloa + +Author: Helen Jackson + +Release Date: March 22, 2009 [EBook #28385] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTER CATS OF CONNORLOA *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>CAT STORIES.</h1> + +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h3>HELEN JACKSON (H. H.),</h3> + +<h6>AUTHOR OF "RAMONA," "NELLY'S SILVER MINE," "BITS OF TALK," ETC.</h6> + +<h2><span class="smcap">Letters from a Cat.</span><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Mammy Tittleback and her<br /> +Family.</span><br /> + +<span class="smcap">The Hunter Cats of Connorloa.</span></h2> + +<h6>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.</h6> + +<h3>BOSTON:</h3> + +<h3>ROBERTS BROTHERS.</h3> + +<h4>1886.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<h2>THE HUNTER CATS<br /> + +OF<br /> + +CONNORLOA.</h2> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 446px;"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.png" width="446" height="600" alt="Connorloa" title="Connorloa" /> +<span class="caption">Connorloa</span> +</div> + +<h4>THE</h4> + +<h2>HUNTER CATS</h2> + +<h5>OF</h5> + +<h3>CONNORLOA.</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">By</span> HELEN JACKSON</h4> + +<h4>(<i>H. H.</i>),</h4> + +<h6>AUTHOR OF "LETTERS FROM A CAT," "MAMMY TITTLEBACK AND HER<br /> +FAMILY," ETC.</h6> + +<h6>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</h6> + +<h4>BOSTON:</h4> + +<h4>ROBERTS BROTHERS.</h4> + +<h5>1886.</h5> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<h6><i>Copyright</i>, 1884,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By Roberts Brothers.</span><br /></h6> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/i001.png" width="300" height="79" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="THE_HUNTER_CATS" id="THE_HUNTER_CATS"></a>THE HUNTER CATS</h2> + +<h5>OF</h5> + +<h2>CONNORLOA.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<h2>I.</h2> + +<p>Once on a time, there lived in California a gentleman whose name was +Connor,—Mr. George Connor. He was an orphan, and had no brothers and +only one sister. This sister was married to an Italian gentleman, one of +the chamberlains to the King of Italy. She might almost as well have +been dead, so far as her brother George's seeing her was concerned; for +he, poor gentleman, was much too ill to cross the ocean to visit her;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +and her husband could not be spared from his duties as chamberlain to +the King, to come with her to America, and she would not leave him and +come alone. So at the time my story begins, it had been many years since +the brother and sister had met, and Mr. Connor had quite made up his +mind that he should never see her again in this world. He had had a +sorry time of it for a good many years. He had wandered all over the +world, trying to find a climate which would make him well. He had lived +in Egypt, in Ceylon, in Italy, in Japan, in the Sandwich Islands, in the +West India Islands. Every place that had ever been heard of as being +good for sick people, he had tried; for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>he had plenty of money, and +there was nothing to prevent his journeying wherever he liked. He had a +faithful black servant Jim, who went with him everywhere, and took the +best of care of him; but neither the money, nor the good nursing, nor +the sea air, nor the mountain air, nor the north, south, east or west +air, did him any good. He only tired himself out for nothing, roaming +from place to place; and was all the time lonely, and sad too, not +having any home. So at last he made up his mind that he would roam no +longer; that he would settle down, build himself a house, and if he +could not be well and strong and do all the things he liked to, he +would at least have a home, and have his bo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>oks about him, and have a +good bed to sleep in, and good food to eat, and be comfortable in all +those ways in which no human being ever can be comfortable outside of +his own house.</p> + +<p>He happened to be in California when he took this resolution. He had +been there for a winter; and on the whole had felt better there than he +had felt anywhere else. The California sunshine did him more good than +medicine: it is wonderful how the sun shines there! Then it was never +either very hot or very cold in the part of California where he was; and +that was a great advantage. He was in the southern part of the State, +only thirty miles from the sea-shore, in San Gabriel. You can find this +name "San Gabriel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>" on your atlas, if you look very carefully. It is in +small print, and on the Atlas it is not more than the width of a pin +from the water's edge; but it really is thirty miles,—a good day's +ride, and a beautiful day's ride too, from the sea. San Gabriel is a +little village, only a dozen or two houses in it, and an old, +half-ruined church,—a Catholic church, that was built there a hundred +years ago, when the country was first settled by the Spaniards. They +named all the places they settled, after saints; and the first thing +they did in every place was to build a church, and get the Indians to +come and be baptized, and learn to pray. They did not call their +settlements towns at first, only Mission<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>s; and they had at one time +twenty-one of these Missions on the California coast, all the way up +from San Diego to Monterey; and there were more than thirty thousand +Indians in them, all being taught to pray and to work, and some of them +to read and write. They were very good men, those first Spanish +missionaries in California. There are still alive some Indians who +recollect these times. They are very old, over a hundred years old; but +they remember well about these things.</p> + +<p>Most of the principal California towns of which you have read in your +geographies were begun in this way. San Diego, Santa Barbara, San Luis +Obispo, San Rafael, San Francisco, Monterey, Los Ang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>eles,—all of these +were first settled by the missionaries, and by the soldiers and officers +of the army who came to protect the missionaries against the savages. +Los Angeles was named by them after the Virgin Mary. The Spanish name +was very long, "Nuestra Seņora Reina de Los Angeles,"—that means, "Our +Lady the Queen of the Angels." Of course this was quite too long to use +every day; so it soon got cut down to simply "Los Angeles," or "The +Angels,"—a name which often amuses travellers in Los Angeles to-day, +because the people who live there are not a bit more like angels than +other people; and that, as we all know, is very unlike indeed. Near Los +Angeles is San Gabriel, only about fifteen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> miles away. In the olden +time, fifteen miles was not thought any distance at all; people were +neighbors who lived only fifteen miles apart.</p> + +<p>There are a great many interesting stories about the first settlement of +San Gabriel, and the habits and customs of the Indians there. They were +a very polite people to each other, and used to train their children in +some respects very carefully. If a child were sent to bring water to an +older person, and he tasted it on the way, he was made to throw the +water out and go and bring fresh water; when two grown-up persons were +talking together, if a child ran between them he was told that he had +done an uncivil thin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>g, and would be punished if he did it again. These +are only specimens of their rules for polite behavior. They seem to me +as good as ours. These Indians were very fond of flowers, of which the +whole country is in the spring so full, it looks in places like a garden +bed; of these flowers they used to make long garlands and wreaths, not +only to wear on their heads, but to reach way down to their feet. These +they wore at festivals and celebrations; and sometimes at these +festivals they used to have what they called "song contests." Two of the +best singers, or poets, would be matched together, to see which could +sing the better, or make the better verses. That seems to me a more +interesting kind of match th<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>an the spelling matches we have in our +villages. But there is nothing of this sort to be seen in San Gabriel +now, or indeed anywhere in California. The Indians, most of them, have +been driven away by the white people who wanted their lands; year by +year more and more white people have come, and the Indians have been +robbed of more and more of their lands, and have died off by hundreds, +until there are not many left.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i002.png" width="600" height="456" alt="Indian Making Bowls.—Page 19." title="Indian Making Bowls.—Page 19." /> +<span class="caption">Indian Making Bowls.—Page 19.</span> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Connor was much interested in learning all he could about them, and +collecting all he could of the curious stone bowls and pestles they used +to make, and of their baskets and lace work. He spent much of his +time riding about the country; and whenever he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>came to an Indian hut he +would stop and talk with them, and ask if they had any stone bowls or +baskets they would like to sell. The bowls especially were a great +curiosity. Nobody knew how long ago they had been made. When the +missionaries first came to the country, they found the Indians using +them; they had them of all sizes, from those so large that they are +almost more than a man can lift, down to tiny ones no bigger than a +tea-cup. But big and little, they were all made in the same way out of +solid stone, scooped out in the middle, by rubbing another stone round +and round on them. You would think it would have taken a lifetime to +make one; but they seem to have been plenty in the olden time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>. Even yet, +people who are searching for such curiosities sometimes find big +grave-mounds in which dozens of them are buried,—buried side by side +with the people who used to eat out of them. There is nothing left of +the people but their skulls and a few bones; but the bowls will last as +long as the world stands.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Now I suppose you are beginning to wonder when I am coming to the Hunter +Cats! I am coming to them just the way Mr. Connor did,—by degrees. I +want you to know about the place he lived in, and how he used to amuse +himself, before he decided to build his house; and then I must tell you +about the house, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>nd then about the children that came to live with him +in it, and then about the Chinamen that came to do his work, and about +his orange-trees, and the gophers that gnawed the bark off them, and the +rabbits that burrowed under his vines. Oh! it will be a good many pages +yet before I can possibly get to the time when the Hunter Cats come in. +But I will tell it as fast as I can, for I dislike long stories myself.</p> + +<p>The village of San Gabriel is in a beautiful broad valley, running east +and west. The north wall of the valley is made by a range of mountains, +called the Sierra Madre; that is Spanish and means "Mother Mountains." +They are grand mountains; their tops are almost so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>lid stone, all sharp +and jagged, with more peaks and ridges, crowded in together, than you +could possibly count. At the bottom, they reach out into the valley by +long slopes, which in the olden time were covered thick with trees and +shrubs; but now, the greater part of these have been cut down and +cleared off, and the ground planted full of orange-trees and grapevines. +If you want to see how it looks to have solid miles upon miles of orange +orchards and vineyards together, you must go to this San Gabriel Valley. +There is no other such place in the world.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Connor rode about, day after day, and looked at these orchards +and vineyards, he began to think he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> should like to have some too. So he +went up and down along the base of the mountains, looking for a good +place. At last he found one. It was strange nobody had picked it out +before. One reason was that it was so wild, and lay so high up, that it +would be a world of trouble, and cost a deal of money, to make a road up +to it and to clear the ground. But Mr. Connor did not care for that. It +was a sort of ridge of the mountains, and it was all grown over thick +with what is called in California "chapparal." That is not the name of +any one particular shrub or tree; it means a mixture of every sort and +kind. You all know what mixed candy is! Well, "chapparal" is mixed +bushes and shrubs;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> mixed thick too! From a little way off, it looks as +smooth as moss; it is so tangled, and the bushes have such strong and +tough stems, you can't possibly get through it, unless you cut a path +before you with a hatchet; it is a solid thicket all the way.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Connor rode to and fro, in front of this green ridge, he thought +how well a house would look up there, with the splendid mountain wall +rising straight up behind it. And from the windows of such a house, one +could look off, not only over the whole valley, but past the hills of +its southern wall, clear and straight thirty miles to the sea. In a +clear day, the line of the water flashed and shone there like a silver +thread.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Connor used to sit on his horse by the half hour at a time gazing at +this hillside, and picturing the home he would like to make there,—a +big square house with plenty of room in it, wide verandas on all sides, +and the slope in front of it one solid green orange orchard. The longer +he looked the surer he felt that this was the thing he wanted to do.</p> + +<p>The very day he decided, he bought the land; and in two days more he had +a big force of men hacking away at the chapparal, burning it, digging up +the tough, tangled roots; oh, what slow work it was! Just as soon as a +big enough place was cleared, he built a little house of rough +boards,—only two ro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>oms in it; and there he went to live, with Jim.</p> + +<p>Now that he had once begun the making of his house, he could hardly wait +for it to be done; and he was never happy except when he was overseeing +the men, hurrying them and working himself. Many a tough old bush he +chopped down with his own hands, and tugged the root up; and he grew +stronger every day. This was a kind of medicine he had not tried before.</p> + +<p>A great part of the bushes were "manzanita." The roots and lower stems +of this shrub are bright red, and twisted almost into knots. They make +capital firewood; so Mr. Connor had them all piled up in a pile to keep +to burn in his big fireplaces; and you would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> have laughed to see such a +woodpile. It was almost as high as the house; and no two sticks +alike,—all prongs and horns, and crooks and twists; they looked like +monster's back teeth.</p> + +<p>At last the house was done. It was a big, old-fashioned, square house, +with a wide hall running through the middle; on the east side were the +library and dining-room; on the west, the parlor and a big +billiard-room; upstairs were four large bedrooms; at the back of the +house, a kitchen. No servants were to sleep in the house. Mr. Connor +would have only Chinamen for servants; and they would sleep, with the +rest of his Chinamen laborers, in what he called the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>Chinese quarter,—a +long, low wooden building still farther up on the hill. Only Jim was to +sleep in the house with Mr. Connor.</p> + +<p>The Chinese quarter was a very comfortable house; and was presided over +by a fat old Chinaman, who had such a long queue that Jim called him +"Long Tail." His name was See Whong Choo, which, Jim said, was entirely +too long to pronounce. There were twenty Chinamen on the place; and a +funny sight it was to see them all file out of a morning to their work, +every one with what looked like a great dinner-plate upside down on his +head for a hat, and his long, black hair braided in a queue, not much +bigger than a rat tail, hanging down his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> back.</p> + +<p>People in California are so used to seeing Chinamen, that they do not +realize how droll they look to persons not accustomed to the sight.</p> + +<p>Their yellow skins, their funny little black eyes, set so slanting in +their heads that you can't tell half the time whether they are looking +straight at you or not, their shiny shaved heads and pig-tails, are all +very queer. And when you first hear them talking together in their own +tongue, you think it must be cats trying to learn English; it is a +mixture of caterwaul and parrot, more disagreeable in sound than any +language I ever heard.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> +<p>About a year after Mr. Connor had moved into his new house, he got a +letter, one night, which made him very unhappy. It told him that his +sister and her husband were dead; they had died, both of them in one +week, of a dreadful fever. Their two children had had the fever at the +same time, but they were getting well; and now, as there was nobody in +Italy to take care of them, the letter asked what should be done with +them. Would Mr. Connor come out himself, or would he send some one? The +Count and his wife had been only a few days ill, and the fever had made +them delirious from the first, so that no directions had been given to +any one about the children; and there the two poor little things +were, all alone with their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>nurse in their apartment in the King's +palace. They had had to live in the palace always, so that the Count +could be ready to attend on the King whenever he was wanted.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i003.png" width="600" height="423" alt="The King's Palace.—Page 31." title="The King's Palace.—Page 31." /> +<span class="caption">The King's Palace.—Page 31.</span> +</div> + +<p>Giuseppe and Maria (those were their names) never liked living there. +The palace was much too grand, with its marble staircases, and marble +floored rooms, so huge and cold; and armed soldiers for sentinels, +standing at the corners and doors, to keep people from going into rooms +without permission, and to keep watch also, lest somebody should get in +and kill the King. The King was always afraid of being killed; there +were so many unhappy and discontented persons in Italy, who did not +want him to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>be King. Just think how frightful it must be to know every +day,—morning, noon, and night,—that there was danger of somebody's +coming stealthily into your room to kill you! Who would be a king? It +used to make the children afraid whenever they passed these tall +soldiers in armor, in the halls. They would hold tight to each other's +hands, and run as fast as they could, past them; and when they got out +in the open air, they were glad; most of all when their nurse took them +into the country, where they could run on the grass and pick flowers. +There they used often to see poor little hovels of houses, with gardens, +and a donkey and chickens in the yard, and children playing; and they +used <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>to say they wished their father and mother were poor, and lived in +a house like that, and kept a donkey. And then the nurse would tell them +they were silly children; that it was a fine thing to live in a palace, +and have their father one of the King's officers, and their mother one +of the most beautiful of the Queen's ladies; but you couldn't have made +the children believe it. They hated the palace, and everything about it, +more and more every day of their lives.</p> + +<p>Giuseppe was ten, and Maria was seven. They were never called by their +real names: Giuseppe was called Jusy, and Maria was called Rea; Jusy and +Rea, nobody would ever have guessed from that, what their real names +were. M<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>aria is pronounced <i>Mahrea</i> in Italy; so that was the way she +came to be called Rea for shortness. Jusy gave himself his nickname when +he was a baby, and it had always stuck to him ever since.</p> + +<p>It was enough to make anybody's heart ache to see these two poor little +things, when they first got strong enough to totter about after this +fever; so weak they felt, they could hardly stand; and they cried more +than half the time, thinking about their papa and mamma, dead and buried +without their even being able to kiss them once for good-by. The King +himself felt so sorry for the little orphans, he came to speak to them; +and the kind Queen came almost every day, and sent them beauti<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>ful toys, +and good things to eat; but nothing comforted the children.</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose will become of us, Jusy?" Rea often said; and Jusy +would reply,—</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Rea. As soon as I'm a man, I can take care of you and +myself too, easy enough; and that won't be a great while. I shall ask +the King to let me be one of his officers like papa."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! no! Jusy," Rea would reply. "Don't! Don't let's live in this +horrid palace. Ask him to give you a little house in the country, with a +donkey; and I will cook the dinner. Caterina will teach me how."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> +<p>Caterina was their nurse.</p> + +<p>"But there wouldn't be any money to pay Caterina," Jusy would say.</p> + +<p>"The King might give us enough for that, Jusy. He is so kind. I'm sure +he would, don't you think so?" was Rea's answer to this difficulty.</p> + +<p>"No," said Jusy, "I don't think he would, unless I earned it. Papa had +to work for all the money he had."</p> + +<p>It was a glad day for the children when the news came that their uncle +in America was going to send for them to come and live with him; and +that in three weeks the man who was to take them there would arrive. +This news came over by telegraph, on that wonderful telegraph wire, +down at the bottom of the ocean. Their kind Uncle George thought he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +would not leave the children uncheered in their suspense and loneliness +one minute longer than he could help; so he sent the message by +telegraph; and the very day after this telegraphic message went, Jim set +out for Italy.</p> + +<p>Jim had travelled so much with Mr. Connor that he was just the best +possible person to take charge of the children on their long journey. He +knew how to manage everything; and he could speak Italian and French and +German well enough to say all that was necessary in places where no +English was spoken. Moreover, Jim had been a servant in Mr. Connor's +father's house all his life; had taken care of Mr. Connor a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>nd his sister +when they were a little boy and girl together, just as Jusy and Rea were +now. He always called Mr. Connor "Mr. George," and his sister "Miss +Julia;" and when he set out to go for the children he felt almost as if +he were going to the help and rescue of his own grandchildren.</p> + +<p>Jusy and Rea did not feel that they were going to a stranger; for they +had heard about their Uncle George ever since they could remember; and +all about "Jim" too. Almost every year Mr. Connor used to send his +sister a new picture of himself; so the children knew very well how he +looked.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +<p>When the news came that they were to go to America and live with him, +they got out all of these pictures they could find, and ranged them in a +line on the mantelpiece in their parlor. There was a picture of Jim too, +as black as charcoal. At first, Rea had been afraid of this; but Jusy +thought it was splendid. Every morning the lonely little creatures used +to stand in front of this line of pictures and say, "Good-morning, Uncle +George! Good-morning to you, Mr. Black Man! How soon will you get here? +We shall be very glad to see you."</p> + +<p>It was over a month before he arrived. The children had been told that +he might be there in three weeks from the day the despatch came; and as +soon as the three weeks were ended, they began al<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>most to hold their +breaths listening for him; they were hardly willing to stir out of the +palace for a walk, for fear he might come while they were away. Rea +watched at the windows, and Jusy watched at the doorway which led into +the corridor.</p> + +<p>"He might be afraid of the sentinel at the corner there," he said. +"Caterina says there are no palaces in America."</p> + +<p>"Goody!" interrupted Rea, "I'm so glad."</p> + +<p>"And so perhaps he has never seen a man in armor like that; and I'd +better be at the door to run and meet him."</p> + +<p>All their clothes were packed ready for the journey; and all the things +which had belonged to their mamma were <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>packed up too, to go with them. +The huge rooms looked drearier than ever. The new chamberlain's wife was +impatient to get settled in the apartment herself, and kept coming to +look at it, and discussing, in the children's presence, where she would +put this or that piece of furniture, and how she would have her pictures +hung.</p> + +<p>"I think she is a very rude lady," said Jusy. "The Queen said these were +our rooms so long as we stayed, just the same as if mamma were here with +us; and I think I see her coming in here that way if mamma was here!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/i004.png" width="300" height="76" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II.</h2> + + +<p>After all their precautions, Jusy and Rea were out when Jim arrived. +They had been to take a walk with Caterina; and when they came back, as +they passed the big sentinel at the outside gate, he nodded to them +pleasantly, and said,—</p> + +<p>"He has come!—the black signor from America." ("Signor" is Italian for +"Mr.")<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 430px;"> +<img src="images/i005.png" width="430" height="600" alt="Jusy and Rea. "He has come!—the black signor from +America."—Page 42." title="Jusy and Rea. "He has come!—the black signor from +America."—Page 42." /> +<span class="caption">Jusy and Rea. "He has come!—the black signor from +America."—Page 42.</span> +</div> + +<p>You see everybody in the palace, from the King down to the scullions in +the kitchen, was interested in the two fatherless and motherless +children, and glad to hear that Jim had arriv<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>ed.</p> + +<p>The very next day they set off. Jim was impatient to be back in +California again; there was nothing to wait for. Caterina was greatly +relieved to find that he did not wish her to go with him. The Queen had +said she must go, if the black signor wished it; and Caterina was +wretched with fright at the thought of the journey, and of the country +full of wild beasts and savages. "Worse than Africa, a hundred times," +she said, "from all I can hear. But her Majesty says I must go, if I am +needed. I'd rather die, but I see no way out of it."</p> + +<p>When it came to bidding Rea good-by, however, she was almost ready to +beg to be allowed to go. The child cried and clung to her neck; and +Cateri<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>na cried and sobbed too.</p> + +<p>But the wise Jim had provided himself with a powerful helper. He had +bought a little white spaniel, the tiniest creature that ever ran on +four legs; she was no more than a doll, in Rea's arms; her hair was like +white silk floss. She had a blue satin collar with a gilt clasp and +padlock; and on the padlock, in raised letters, was the name "Fairy." +Jim had thought of this in New York, and bought the collar and padlock +there; and the dog he had bought only one hour before they were to set +out on their journey. She was in a beautiful little flannel-lined +basket; and when Rea clung to Caterina's neck crying and sobbing, Jim +stepped up to her and said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>,—</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, missy; here's your little dog to take care of; she'll be +scared if she sees you cry."</p> + +<p>"Mine! Mine! That sweet doggie!" cried Rea. She could not believe her +eyes. She stopped crying; and she hardly noticed when the Queen herself +kissed her in farewell, so absorbed was she in "Fairy" and the blue +satin collar. "Oh, you are a very good black man, Signor Jim," she +cried. "I never saw such a sweet doggie; I shall carry her in my own +arms all the way there."</p> + +<p>It was a hard journey; but the children enjoyed every minute of it. The +account of all they did and saw, and the good times they had with the +kind Ji<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>m, would make a long story by itself; but if I told it, we should +never get to the Hunter Cats; so I will not tell you anything about the +journey at all except that it took about six weeks, and that they +reached San Gabriel in the month of March, when everything was green and +beautiful, and the country as full of wild flowers as the children had +ever seen the country about Florence in Italy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Connor had not been idle while Jim was away. After walking up and +down his house, with his thinking-cap on, for a few days, looking into +the rooms, and trying to contrive how it should be rearranged to +accommodate his new and unexpected family, he suddenly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>decided to build +on a small wing to the house. He might as well arrange it in the outset +as it would be pleasantest to have it when Jusy and Rea were a young +gentleman and a young lady, he thought. What might do for them very well +now, while they were little children, would not do at all when they were +grown up.</p> + +<p>So, as I told you, Mr. Connor being a gentleman who never lost any time +in doing a thing he had once made up his mind to, set carpenters at work +immediately tearing out half of one side of his new house; and in little +over a month, there was almost another little house joined on to it. +There was a good big room for Rea's bedroom, and a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>small room opening +out of it, for her sitting-room; beyond this another room in which her +nurse could sleep, while she needed one, and after she grew older, the +governess who must come to teach her; and after she did not need any +governess, the room would be a pleasant thing to have for her young +friends who came to visit her. This kind uncle was planning for a good +many years ahead, in this wing to his house.</p> + +<p>These rooms for Rea were in the second story. Beneath them were two +large rooms, one for Jusy, and one for Jim. A pretty stairway, with a +lattice-work wall, went up outside to Rea's room, and at the door of +her room spread out into a sort of loggia, or upstairs piazz<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>a, such as +Mr. Connor knew she had been used to in Italy. In another year this +stairway and loggia would be a bower of all sorts of vines, things grow +so fast in California.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>And now we are really coming to the Cats. They had arrived before the +children did.</p> + +<p>When the children got out of the cars at San Gabriel, there stood their +Uncle George on the platform waiting for them. Jusy spied him first. +"There's Uncle George," he shouted, and ran towards him shouting, "Uncle +George! Uncle George! Here we are."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> +<p>Rea followed close behind, holding up Fairy. "Look at my doggie that +Signor black Jim gave me," she cried, holding Fairy up as high as she +could reach; and in the next minute she herself, doggie and all, was +caught up in Uncle George's arms.</p> + +<p>"What makes you cry, Uncle George?" she exclaimed; "we thought you would +be very glad to see us!"</p> + +<p>"So I am, you dear child," he said. "I am only crying because I am so +glad."</p> + +<p>But Jusy knew better, and as soon as he could get a chance, he whispered +to Rea, "I should have thought you would have known better than to say +anything to Uncle George about his having tears in his eyes. It was +because we reminded him so much of mamma, that he cried. I saw the +tears come in his e<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>yes, the first minute he saw us, but I wasn't going +to say a word about it."</p> + +<p>Poor little Rea felt badly enough to think she had not understood as +quickly as Jusy did; but the only thing she could think of to do was to +spring up in the seat of the wagon, and put her arms around her uncle's +neck, and kiss him over and over, saying, "We are going to love you, +like,—oh,—like everything, Jusy and me! I love you better than my +doggie!"</p> + +<p>But when she said this, the tears came into Mr. Connor's eyes again; and +Rea looked at Jusy in despair.</p> + +<p>"Keep quiet, Rea," whispered Jusy. "He doesn't want us to talk just +yet, I guess;" and Rea sat down ag<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>ain, and tried to comfort herself with +Fairy. But she could not keep her eyes from watching her uncle's face. +Her affectionate heart was grieved to see him look so sad, instead of +full of joy and gladness as she had thought it would be. Finally she +stole her hand into his and sat very still without speaking, and that +really did comfort Mr. Connor more than anything she could have done. +The truth was, Rea looked so much like her mother, that it was almost +more than Mr. Connor could bear when he first saw her; and her voice +also was like her mother's.</p> + +<p>Jusy did not in the least resemble his mother; he was like his father +in every way,—hair as black as black <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>could be, and eyes almost as black +as the hair; a fiery, flashing sort of face Jusy had; and a fiery, +flashing sort of temper too, I am sorry to say. A good deal like +thunder-storms, Jusy's fits of anger were; but, if they were swift and +loud, like the thunder, they also were short-lived,—cleared off +quickly,—like thunder-storms, and showed blue sky afterward, and a +beautiful rainbow of sorrow for the hasty words or deeds.</p> + +<p>Rea was fair, with blue eyes and yellow hair, and a temper sunny as her +face. In Italy there are so few people with blue eyes and fair hair, +that whenever Rea was seen in the street, everybody turned to look at +her, and asked who she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>, and remembered her; and when she came again, +they said, "Ecco! Ecco! (That is Italian for Look! Look!) There is the +little blue-eyed, golden-haired angel." Rea did not know that the people +said this, which was well, for it might have made her vain.</p> + +<p>It was six miles from the railway station to Mr. Connor's house. But the +house was in sight all the way; it was so high up on the mountain-side +that it showed plainly, and as it was painted white, you could see it in +all directions like a lighthouse. Mr. Connor liked to be able to see it +from all places when he was riding about the valley. He said it looked +friendly to him; as if it said, all the time, "Here I am, you can come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +home any minute you want to."</p> + +<p>After they had driven about half way, Mr. Connor said,—</p> + +<p>"Children, do you see that big square house up there on the mountain? +That is Connorloa."</p> + +<p>"Whose house is it, Uncle George?" said Jusy.</p> + +<p>"Why, did you not hear?" replied Mr. Connor. "It is Connorloa."</p> + +<p>The children looked still more puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Oh," laughed their uncle. "Is it possible nobody has told you the name +of my house? I have called it Connorloa, from my own name, and 'loa,' +which is the word in the Sandwich Islands for 'hill.' I suppose I might +have called <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>it Connor Hill, but I thought 'loa' was prettier."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so do I," said Jusy. "It is lovely. Connorloa, Connorloa," he +repeated. "Doesn't it sound like some of the names in Italy, Rea?" he +said.</p> + +<p>"Prettier!" said little Rea. "No word in Italy, so pretty as Connorloa; +nor so nice as Uncle George."</p> + +<p>"You dear, loving little thing!" cried Uncle George, throwing his arms +around her. "You are for all the world your mother over again."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I've been saying to myself all the way home, Mr. +George," said Jim. "It's seemed to me half the time as if it were Miss +Julia herself; but the boy is not much like yo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>u."</p> + +<p>"No," said Jusy proudly, throwing back his handsome head, and his eyes +flashing. "I am always said to be exactly the portrait of my father; and +when I am a man, I am going back to Italy to live in the King's palace, +and wear my father's sword."</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't go," said Rea, nestling close to her uncle. "I shall stay in +Connorloa with Uncle George. I hate palaces. Your house isn't a palace, +is it, Uncle George? It looks pretty big."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear; not by any means," replied Mr. Connor, laughing heartily. +"But why do you hate palaces, my little Rea? Most people think it would +be the finest thing possible to live in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> a palace."</p> + +<p>"I don't," said Rea. "I just hate them; the rooms are so big and so +cold; and the marble floors are so slip-py, I've had my knees all black +and blue tumbling down on them; and the stairs are worse yet; I used to +have to creep on them; and there is a soldier at every corner with a gun +and a sword to kill you, if you break any of the rules. I think a palace +is just like a prison!"</p> + +<p>"Well done, my little Republican!" cried Uncle George.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" said Rea.</p> + +<p>"I know," said Jusy. "It is a person that does not wish to have any +king. There were Republicans in Italy; very bad men. Papa said they +ought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> to be killed. Why do you call Rea by that name, Uncle George?" and +Jusy straightened himself up like a soldier, and looked fierce.</p> + +<p>Mr. Connor could hardly keep his face straight as he replied to Jusy: +"My dear boy the word does not mean anything bad in America; we are all +Republicans here. You know we do not have any king. We do not think that +is the best way to take care of a country."</p> + +<p>"My papa thought it was the best way," haughtily answered Jusy. "I shall +think always as papa did."</p> + +<p>"All right, my man," laughed Uncle George. "Perhaps you will. You can +think and say what you like while you live in America, and nobody wil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>l +put you in prison for your thoughts or your words, as they might if you +lived in Italy."</p> + +<p>It was near night when they reached the house. As they drove slowly up +the long hill, the Chinamen were just going, on the same road, to their +supper. When they heard the sound of the wheels, they stepped off the +road, and formed themselves into a line to let the carriage pass, and to +get a peep at the children. They all knew about their coming, and were +curious to see them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 421px;"> +<img src="images/i006.png" width="421" height="600" alt=""The Chinamen were just going to their supper, and they +formed themselves into a line."—Page 60." title=""The Chinamen were just going to their supper, and they +formed themselves into a line."—Page 60." /> +<span class="caption">"The Chinamen were just going to their supper, and they +formed themselves into a line."—Page 60.</span> +</div> + +<p>When Rea caught sight of them, she screamed aloud, and shook with +terror, and hid her face on her uncle's shoulder.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> +<p>"Are those the savages?" she cried. "Oh, don't let them kill Fairy;" and +she nearly smothered the little dog, crowding her down out of sight on +the seat between herself and her uncle.</p> + +<p>Jusy did not say a word, but he turned pale; he also thought these must +be the savages of which they had heard.</p> + +<p>Mr. Connor could hardly speak for laughing. "Who ever put such an idea +as that into your head?" he cried. "Those are men from China; those are +my workmen; they live at Connorloa all the time. They are very good men; +they would not hurt anybody. There are not any savages here."</p> + +<p>"Caterina said America was all full of savages," sobbed Rea,—"savages +and wild beasts, such as lions and wol<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>ves."</p> + +<p>"That girl was a fool," exclaimed Jim. "It was a good thing, Mr. George, +you told me not to bring her over."</p> + +<p>"I should say so," replied Mr. Connor. "The idea of her trying to +frighten these children in that way. It was abominable."</p> + +<p>"She did nothing of the kind," cried Jusy, his face very red. "She was +talking to her cousin; and she thought we were asleep; and Rea and I +listened; and I told Rea it was good enough for us to get so frightened +because we had listened. But I did not believe it so much as Rea did."</p> + +<p>The Chinamen were all bowing and bending, and smiling in the gladness +of their hearts. Mr. Connor was a good master to them; and they knew it +wo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>uld be to him great pleasure to have these little children in the +house.</p> + +<p>While driving by he spoke to several of them by name, and they replied. +Jusy and Rea listened and looked.</p> + +<p>"What are their heads made of, Uncle George?" whispered Rea. "Will they +break if they hit them?"</p> + +<p>At first, Mr. Connor could not understand what she meant; then in a +moment he shouted with laughter.</p> + +<p>Chinamen have their heads shorn of all hair, except one little lock at +the top; this is braided in a tight braid, like a whiplash, and hangs +down their backs, sometimes almost to the very ground. The longer this +queer little braid is,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> the prouder the Chinaman feels. All the rest of +his head is bare and shining smooth. They looked to Rea like the heads +of porcelain baby dolls she had had; and that those would break, she +knew by sad experience.</p> + +<p>How pleased Rea and Jusy were with their beautiful rooms, and with +everything in their Uncle George's house, there are no words to tell. +They would have been very unreasonable and ungrateful children, if they +had not been; for Mr. Connor had not forgotten one thing which could add +to their comfort or happiness: books, toys, everything he could think +of, or anybody could suggest to him, he had bought. And when he led +little Rea into her bedroom, there stood a sweet-fa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>ced young Mexican +girl, to be her nurse.</p> + +<p>"Anita," he said, "here is your young lady."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to see you, seņorita," said the girl, coming forward to +take off Rea's hat; on which Rea exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"Why, she is Italian! That is what Caterina called me. And Caterina had +a sister whose name was Anita. How did you get over here?"</p> + +<p>"I was born here, seņorita," replied the girl.</p> + +<p>"It is not quite the same word, Rea," said Mr. Connor, "though it sounds +so much like it. It was 'signorita' you were called in Italy; and it is +'seņorita' that Anita here calls you. T<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>hat is Spanish; and Anita speaks +much more Spanish than English. That is one reason I took her. I want +you to learn to speak in Spanish."</p> + +<p>"Then we shall speak four languages," said Jusy proudly,—"Italian, +French, and English and Spanish. Our papa spoke eleven. That was one +reason he was so useful to the King. Nobody could come from any foreign +country that papa could not talk to. My papa said the more languages a +man spoke, the more he could do in the world. I shall learn all the +American languages before I go back to Italy. Are there as many as nine, +Uncle George?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yes, a good many more," replied Uncle George. "Pretty nearly a language +for every State, I should say. But the fewer you learn of them the +better. If you will speak good English and Spanish, that is all you will +need here."</p> + +<p>"Shall we not learn the language of the signors from China?" asked Rea.</p> + +<p>At which Jim, who had followed, and was standing in the background, +looking on with delight, almost went into convulsions of laughter, and +went out and told the Chinamen in the kitchen that Miss Rea wished to +learn to speak Chinese at once. So they thought she must be a very nice +little girl, and were all ready to be her warm friends.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> +<p>The next morning, as Rea was dressing, she heard a great caterwauling +and miaowing. Fairy, who was asleep on the foot of her bed, sprang up +and began to bark furiously; all the while, however, looking as if she +were frightened half to death. Never before had Fairy heard so many +cats' voices at once.</p> + +<p>Rea ran to the open window; before she reached it, she heard Jusy +calling to her from below,—</p> + +<p>"Rea! Rea! Are you up? Come out and see the cats."</p> + +<p>Jusy had been up ever since light, roaming over the whole place: the +stables, the Chinamen's quarters, the tool-house, the kitchen, the +woodpile; there was nothing he had not seen; and he was in a state of +such delight he could no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>t walk straight or steadily; he went on the run +and with a hop, skip, and jump from each thing to the next.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, Rea!" he screamed. "Do hurry. Never mind your hair. Come down. +They'll be done!"</p> + +<p>Still the miaowing and caterwauling continued.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hurry, hurry, Anita," said Rea. "Please let me go down; I'll come +up to have my hair done afterwards. What is it, Anita? Is it really +cats? Are there a thousand?"</p> + +<p>Anita laughed. "No, seņorita," she said. "Only seventeen! And you will +see them every morning just the same. They always make this noise. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>y +are being fed; and there is only a very little meat for so many. Jim +keeps them hungry all the time, so they will hunt better."</p> + +<p>"Hunt!" cried Rea.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Anita. "That is what we keep them for, to hunt the gophers +and rabbits and moles. They are clearing them out fast. Jim says by +another spring there won't be a gopher on the place."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i007.png" width="600" height="429" alt="The Chinaman, Ah Foo, Feeding the Cats—Page 70." title="The Chinaman, Ah Foo, Feeding the Cats—Page 70." /> +<span class="caption">The Chinaman, Ah Foo, Feeding the Cats—Page 70.</span> +</div> + +<p>Before she had finished speaking, Rea was downstairs and out on the east +veranda. At the kitchen door stood a Chinaman, throwing bits of meat to +the scrambling seventeen cats,—black, white, tortoise-shell, gray, +maltese, yellow, every color, size, shape of cat that was ever seen. +And they were plunging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> and leaping and racing about so, that it looked +like twice as many cats as there really were, and as if every cat had a +dozen tails. "Sfz! Sfz! Sputter! Scratch, spp, spt! Growl, growl, miaow, +miaow," they went, till, between the noise and the flying around, it was +a bedlam.</p> + +<p>Jusy had laughed till the tears ran out of his eyes; and Ah Foo (that +was the Chinaman's name) was laughing almost as hard, just to see Jusy +laugh. The cats were an old story to Ah Foo; he had got over laughing at +them long ago.</p> + +<p>Ah Foo was the cook's brother. While Jim had been away, Ah Foo had +waited at table, and done all the housework except the cooking. The +cook's na<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>me was Wang Hi. He was old; but Ah Foo was young, not more than +twenty. He did not like to work in the house, and he was glad Jim had +got home, so he could go to working out of doors again. He was very +glad, too, to see the children; and he had spoken so pleasantly to Jusy, +that in one minute Jusy had lost all his fear of Chinamen.</p> + +<p>When Rea saw Ah Foo, she hung back, and was afraid to go nearer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come on! come on!" shouted Jusy. "Don't be afraid! He is just like +Jim, only a different color. They have men of all kinds of colors here +in America. They are just like other people, all but the color. Come +on, Rea. Don't be silly. You can't half see from there!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Rea was afraid. She would not come farther than the last pillar of +the veranda. "I can see very well here," she said; and there she stood +clinging to the pillar. She was half afraid of the cats, too, besides +being very much afraid of the Chinaman.</p> + +<p>The cats' breakfast was nearly over. In fact, they had had their usual +allowance before Rea came down; but Ah Foo had gone on throwing out meat +for Rea to see the scrambling. Presently he threw the last piece, and +set the empty plate up on a shelf by the kitchen door. The cats knew +very well by this sign that breakfast was over; after the plate was set +on that shelf, they never had a mouthful <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>more of meat; and it was droll +to see the change that came over all of them as soon as they saw this +done. In less than a second, they changed from fierce, fighting, +clawing, scratching, snatching, miaowing, spitting, growling cats, into +quiet, peaceful cats, some sitting down licking their paws, or washing +their faces, and some lying out full-length on the ground and rolling; +some walking off in a leisurely and dignified manner, as if they had had +all they wanted, and wouldn't thank anybody for another bit of meat, if +they could have it as well as not. This was almost as funny as the first +part of it.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<p>After Ah Foo had set the plate in its place on the shelf, he turned to +go into the kitchen to help about the breakfast; but just as he had put +his hand on the door-handle, there came a terrible shriek from Rea, a +fierce sputter from one of the cats, and a faint bark of a dog, all at +once; and Ah Foo, looking around, sprang just in time to rescue Fairy +from the jaws of Skipper, one of the biggest and fiercest of the cats.</p> + +<p>Poor little Fairy, missing her mistress, had trotted downstairs; and +smelling on the floor wherever Rea had set her feet, had followed her +tracks, and had reached the veranda just in time to be spied by Skipper, +who arched his back, set his tail up straight and stiff as a poker, and, +making one bound from the ground to the middle of the veranda floor, +clutch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>ed Fairy with teeth and claws, and would have made an end of her +in less than one minute if Ah Foo had not been there. But Ah Foo could +move almost as quickly as a cat; and it was not a quarter of a second +after Fairy gave her piteous cry, when she was safe and sound in her +mistress's arms, and Ah Foo had Skipper by the scruff of his neck, and +was holding him high up, boxing his ears, right and left, with blows so +hard they rang.</p> + +<p>"Cat heap wicked," he said. "You killee missy's dog, I killee you!" and +he flung Skipper with all his might and main through the air.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<p>Rea screamed, "Oh, don't!" She did not want to see the cat killed, even +if he had flown at Fairy. "It will kill him," she cried.</p> + +<p>Ah Foo laughed. "Heap hard killee cat," he said. "Cat get nine time life +good;" and as he spoke, Skipper, after whirling through the air in +several somersaults, came down on his feet all right, and slunk off into +the woodpile.</p> + +<p>"I tellee you," said Ah Foo, chuckling.</p> + +<p>"Thatee isee heapee goodee manee," cried Jusy. "I havee learnee talkee +oneee language already!"</p> + +<p>A roar of laughter came from the dining-room window. There stood Uncle +George, holding his sides.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> +<p>"Bravo, Jusy!" he exclaimed. "You have begun on pigeon English, have +you, for the first of your nine languages?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't that Chinese?" said Jusy, much crestfallen.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Uncle George, "not by any manner of means. It is only the +Chinese way of talking English. It is called pigeon English. But come in +to breakfast now, and I will tell you all about my cats,—my hunting +cats, I call them. They are just as good as a pack of hunting dogs; and +better, for they do not need anybody to go with them."</p> + +<p>How pleasant the breakfast-table looked!—a large square table set with +gay china, pretty flowers in the middle, nice broiled chicken and fried +potatoes, and baked apples and cream; and Jusy's and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>Rea's bright faces, +one on Mr. Connor's left hand, the other on his right.</p> + +<p>As Jim moved about the table and waited on them, he thought to himself, +"Now, if this doesn't make Mr. George well, it will be because he can't +be cured."</p> + +<p>Jim had found the big house so lonely, with nobody in it except Mr. +Connor and the two Chinese servants, he would have been glad to see +almost anything in the shape of a human being,—man, woman, or +child,—come there to live. How much more, then, these two beautiful and +merry children!</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<p>Jusy and Rea thought they had never in all their lives tasted anything +so good as the broiled chicken and the baked apples.</p> + +<p>"Heapee goodee cookee, Uncle George!" said Jusy. He was so tickled with +the Chinaman's way of talking, he wanted to keep doing it.</p> + +<p>"Tooee muchee putee onee letter e, Master Jusy," said Uncle George. +"After you have listened to their talk a little longer, you will see +that they do not add the 'ee' to every word. It is hard to imitate them +exactly."</p> + +<p>Jusy was crestfallen. He thought he had learned a new language in half +an hour, and he was proud of it. But no new language was ever learned +without more trouble and hard work than tha<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>t; not even pigeon English!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/i008.png" width="300" height="147" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/i009.png" width="300" height="81" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III.</h2> + + +<p>It had come about by chance, Mr. Connor's keeping this pack of hunting +cats. He had been greatly troubled by gophers and rabbits: the gophers +killed his trees by gnawing their roots; the rabbits burrowed under his +vines, ate the tender young leaves, and gnawed the stems.</p> + +<p>Jim had tried every device,—traps of all kinds and all the poisons he +could hear of. He had also tried drowning the poor little gophers out +by pouring water down their holes. But, spite of all he c<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>ould do, the +whole hill was alive with them. It had been wild ground so long, and +covered so thick with bushes, that it had been like a nice house built +on purpose for all small wild animals to live in.</p> + +<p>I suppose there must have been miles of gophers' underground tunnels, +leading from hole to hole. They popped their heads up, and you saw them +scampering away wherever you went; and in the early morning it was very +funny to see the rabbits jumping and leaping to get off out of sight +when they heard people stirring. They were of a beautiful gray color, +with a short bushy tail, white at the end. On account of this white tip +to their tails, they are called "cotton-tails<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>."</p> + +<p>When Mr. Connor first moved up on the hill, Jim used to shoot a +cottontail almost every day, and some days he shot two. The rabbits, +however, are shyer than the gophers; when they find out that they get +shot as soon as they are seen, and that these men who shoot them have +built houses and mean to stay, they will gradually desert their burrows +and move away to new homes.</p> + +<p>But the gopher is not so afraid. He lives down in the ground, and can +work in the dark as well as in the light; and he likes roots just as +well as he likes the stems above ground; so as long as he stays in his +cellar houses, he is hard to reach.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>The gopher is a pretty little creature, with a striped back,—almost as +pretty as a chipmonk. It seems a great pity to have to kill them all +off; but there is no help for it; fruit-trees and gophers cannot live in +the same place.</p> + +<p>Soon after Mr. Connor moved into his new house, he had a present of a +big cat from the Mexican woman who sold him milk.</p> + +<p>She said to Jim one day, "Have you got a cat in your house yet?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Jim. "Mr. George does not like cats."</p> + +<p>"No matter," said she, "you have got to have one. The gophers and +squirrels in this country are a great deal worse than rats and mice. +They'll come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> right into your kitchen and cellar, if your back is turned +a minute, and eat you out of house and home. I'll give you a splendid +cat. She's a good hunter. I've got more cats than I know what to do +with."</p> + +<p>So she presented Jim with a fine, big black and white cat; and Jim named +the cat "Mexican," because a Mexican woman gave her to him.</p> + +<p>The first thing Mexican did, after getting herself established in her +new home in the woodpile, was to have a litter of kittens, six of them. +The next thing she did, as soon as they got big enough to eat meat, was +to go out hunting for food for them; and one day, as Mr. Connor was +riding up the hill, he saw her runni<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>ng into the woodpile, with a big fat +gopher in her mouth.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" thought Mr. Connor to himself. "There's an idea! If one cat will +kill one gopher in a day, twenty cats would kill twenty gophers in a +day! I'll get twenty cats, and keep them just to hunt gophers. They'll +clear the place out quicker than poison, or traps, or drowning."</p> + +<p>"Jim," he called, as soon as he entered the house,—"Jim, I've got an +idea. I saw Mexican just now carrying a dead gopher to her kittens. Does +she kill many?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir," replied Jim. "Before she got her kittens I used to see +her with them every day. But she does not go out so often now."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> +<p>"Good mother!" said Mr. Connor. "Stays at home with her family, does +she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," laughed Jim; "except when she needs to go out to get food +for them."</p> + +<p>"You may set about making a collection of cats, Jim, at once," said Mr. +Connor. "I'd like twenty."</p> + +<p>Jim stared. "I thought you didn't like cats, Mr. George," he exclaimed. +"I was afraid to bring Mexican home, for fear you wouldn't like having +her about."</p> + +<p>"No more do I," replied Mr. Connor. "But I do not dislike them so much +as I dislike gophers. And don't you see, if we have twenty, and they +all <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>hunt gophers as well as she does, we'll soon have the place +cleared?"</p> + +<p>"We'd have to feed them, sir," said Jim. "So many's that, they'd never +make all their living off gophers."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll feed them once a day, just a little, so as not to let them +starve. But we must keep them hungry, or else they won't hunt."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," said Jim. "I will set about it at once."</p> + +<p>"Beg or buy them," laughed Mr. Connor. "I'll pay for them, if I can't +get them any other way. There is room in the woodpile for fifty to +live."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> +<p>Jim did not much like the idea of having such an army of cats about; but +he went faithfully to work; and in a few weeks he had seventeen. One +morning, when they were all gathered together to be fed, he called Mr. +Connor to look at them.</p> + +<p>"Do you think there are enough, sir?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Goodness! Jim," cried Mr. Connor, "what did you get so many for? We +shall be overrun."</p> + +<p>Jim laughed. "I'm three short yet, sir, of the number you ordered," he +said. "There are only seventeen in that batch."</p> + +<p>"Only seventeen! You are joking, Jim," cried Mr. Connor; and he tried +to count; but the cats were in such a scrambling mass, he could not +co<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>unt them.</p> + +<p>"I give it up, Jim," he said at last. "But are there really only +seventeen?"</p> + +<p>"That's all, sir, and it takes quite a lot of meat to give them all a +bite of a morning. I think here are enough to begin with, unless you +have set your heart, sir, on having twenty. Mexican has got six kittens, +you know, and they will be big enough to hunt before long. That will +make twenty-three."</p> + +<p>"Plenty! plenty!" said Mr. Connor. "Don't get another one. And, Jim," he +added, "wouldn't it be better to feed them at night? Then they will be +hungry the next morning."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<p>"I tried that, sir," said Jim, "but they didn't seem so lively. I don't +give them any more than just enough to whet their appetites. At first +they sat round the door begging for more, half the morning, and I had to +stone them away; now they understand it. In a few minutes, they'll all +be off; and you won't see much of any of them till to-morrow morning. +They are all on hand then, as regular as the sun rises."</p> + +<p>"Where do they sleep?" said Mr. Connor.</p> + +<p>"In the woodpile, every blessed cat of them," replied Jim. "And there +are squirrels living in there too. It is just a kind of cage, that +woodpile, with its crooks and turns. I saw a squirrel going up, up, in +it the other day; I thoug<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>ht he'd make his way out to the top; I thought +the cats would have cleaned them all out before this time, but they +haven't; I saw one there only yesterday."</p> + +<p>Jim had counted too soon on Mexican's kittens. Five of them came to a +sad end. Their mother carried to them, one day, a gopher which she found +lying dead in the road. Poor cat-mother! I suppose she thought to +herself when she saw it lying there, "Oh, how lucky! I sha'n't have to +sit and wait and watch for a gopher this morning. Here is one all ready, +dead!" But that gopher had died of poison which had been put down his +hole; and as soon as the little kittens ate it, they were all taken +dread<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>fully ill, and all but one died. Either he hadn't had so much of +the gopher as the rest had, or else he was stronger; he lingered along +in misery for a month, as thin, wretched-looking a little beast as ever +was seen; then he began to pick up his flesh, and finally got to be as +strong a cat as there was in the whole pack.</p> + +<p>He was most curiously marked: in addition to the black and white of his +mother's skin, he had gray and yellow mottled in all over him. Jim +thought it looked as if his skin had been painted, so he named him +Fresco.</p> + +<p>Jim had names for all the best cats; there were ten that were named. +The other seven, Jim called "the rabble;" but of the ten he had named, +Jim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> grew to be very proud. He thought they were remarkable cats.</p> + +<p>First there was Mexican, the original first-comer in the colony. Then +there was Big Tom, and another Tom called China Tom, because he would +stay all the time he could with the Chinamen. He was dark-gray, with +black stripes on him.</p> + +<p>Next in size and beauty was a huge black cat, called Snowball. He was +given to Mr. Connor by a miner's wife, who lived in a cabin high up on +the mountain. She said she would let him have the cat on the condition +that he would continue to call him Snowball, as she had done. She named +him Snowball, she said, to make herself laugh every tim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>e she called him, +he being black as coal; and there was so little to laugh at where she +lived, she liked a joke whenever she could contrive one.</p> + +<p>Then there was Skipper, the one who nearly ate up Fairy that first +morning; he also was as black as coal, and fierce as a wolf; all the +cats were more or less afraid of him. Jim named him Skipper, because he +used to race about in trees like a squirrel. Way up to the very top of +the biggest sycamore trees in the caņon back of the house, Skipper would +go, 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 better +eating than gopher<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>s.</p> + +<p>Mexican, Big Tom, China Tom, Snowball, Skipper, and Fresco,—these are +six of the names; the other four were not remarkable; they did not mean +anything in especial; only to distinguish their owners from the rest, +who had no names at all.</p> + +<p>Oh, yes; I am forgetting the drollest of all: that was Humbug. Jim gave +her that name because she was so artful and sly about getting more than +her share of the meat. She would watch for the biggest pieces, and +pounce on them right under some other cat's nose, and almost always +succeed in getting them. So Jim named her Humbug, which was a very good +name; for she always pretended <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>to be quieter and stiller than the rest, +as if she were not in any great hurry about her breakfast; and then she +whisked in, and got the biggest pieces, and twice as much as any other +cat there.</p> + +<p>The other names were Jenny, Capitan, and Growler. That made the ten.</p> + +<p>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 at +their morning meal, or while they were prowling, looking, and waiting +for gophers and rabbits.</p> + +<p>For a long time, Rea carried Fairy tight in her arms whenever there was +a cat in sight; but after a while, the cats all came to know Fairy so +well tha<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>t they took no notice of her, and it was safe to put her on the +ground and let her run along. But Rea kept close to her, and never +forgot her for a single minute.</p> + +<p>There were many strange things which these cats did, besides hunting the +gophers. They used also to hunt snakes. In one of the rocky ravines near +the house there were large snakes of a beautiful golden-brown color. On +warm days these used to crawl out, and lie sunning themselves on the +rocks. 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, and +come down with his fore claws firm planted in the middle of the snake's +back; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>n he would take it in his teeth, and shake it, flapping its +head 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 so +helpless in the claws of a cat.</p> + +<p>Another thing the cats did, which gave the men much amusement, was, that +when 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 be +heard in the stables; and on running to see what was the matter, there +would be found Big Tom or Skipper, sitting down calm and happy by the +side of a dead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> rabbit, which he had carried in, and for some reason or +other best known to himself had deposited in plain sight of the mules. +Why they chose to carry dead rabbits there, unless it was that they +enjoyed seeing the mules so frightened, there seemed no explaining. They +never took dead gophers up there, or snakes; only the rabbits. Once a +mule was so frightened that he plunged till he broke his halter, got +free, and ran off down the hill; and the men had a big chase before they +overtook him.</p> + +<p>But the queerest thing of all that happened, was that the cats adopted a +skunk; or else it was the skunk that adopted the cats; I don't know +which <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>would be the proper way of stating it; but at any rate the skunk +joined the family, lived with them in the woodpile, came with them every +morning to be fed, and went off with them hunting gophers every day. It +must have been there some time before Jim noticed it, for when he first +saw it, it was already on the most familiar and friendly terms with all +the cats. It was a pretty little black and white creature, and looked a +good deal like one of Mexican's kittens.</p> + +<p>Finally it became altogether too friendly: Jim found it in the kitchen +cellar one day; and a day or two after that, it actually walked into +the house. Mr. Connor was sitting in his library writing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>. He heard a +soft, furry foot patting on the floor, and thought it was Fairy. +Presently he looked up; and, to his horror, there was the cunning little +black and white skunk in the doorway, looking around and sniffing +curiously at everything, like a cat. Mr. Connor held his breath and did +not dare stir, for fear the creature should take it into its head that +he was an enemy. Seeing everything so still, the skunk walked in, walked +around both library and dining-room, taking minute observations of +everything by means of its nose. Then it softly patted out again, across +the hall, and out of the front door, down the veranda steps.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> +<p>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 neck +he could wring with one hand; and yet he no more dared to touch it, or +try to drive it out, than if it had been a roaring lion. As soon as it +was fairly out of the way, Mr. Connor went in search of Jim.</p> + +<p>"Jim," said he, "that skunk you were telling me about, that the cats had +adopted, seems to be thinking of adopting me; he spent some time in the +library with me this morning, looking me over; and I am afraid he liked +me and the place much too well. I should like to have him killed. Can +you manage it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," laughed Jim. "I was thinking I'd have to kill him. I caught +him in the cellar a day or two since, and I thought he was getting to +feel too much at home. I'll fix him."</p> + +<p>So the next morning Jim took a particularly nice and tempting piece of +meat, covered it with poison, and just as the cats' breakfast was +finished, and the cats slowly dispersing, he threw this tidbit directly +at the little skunk. He swallowed it greedily, and before noon he was +dead.</p> + +<p>Jim could not help being sorry when he saw him stretched out stiff near +his home in the woodpile. "He was a pert little rascal;" said Jim. "I +did kind o' hate to kill him; but he sho<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>uld have stayed with his own +folks, if he wanted to be let alone. It's too dangerous having skunks +round."</p> + +<p>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 had +done their work so thoroughly.</p> + +<p>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 will +be horrified to hear the name of this enemy. It was the linnet. Yes, the +merry, chirping, confiding little linnets, with their pretty red heads +and bright eyes, they also were enemies, and must be killed. They were +too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> fond of apricots and peaches and pears and raspberries, and all +other nice fruits.</p> + +<p>If birds only had sense enough, when they want a breakfast or dinner of +fruit, to make it off one, or even two,—eat the peach or the pear or +whatever it might be all up, as we do,—they might be tolerated in +orchards; nobody would grudge a bird one peach or cherry. But that isn't +their way. They like to hop about in the tree, and take a nip out of +first one, then another, and then another, till half the fruit on the +tree has been bitten into and spoiled. In this way, they ruin bushels of +fruit every season.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<p>"I wonder if we could not teach the cats to hunt linnets, Jim," said Mr. +Connor one morning. It was at the breakfast-table.</p> + +<p>"O Uncle George! the dear sweet little linnets!" exclaimed Rea, ready to +cry.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear sweet little girl," said Uncle George. "The dear sweet +little linnets will not leave us a single whole peach or apricot or +cherry to eat."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Jusy, "they're a perfect nuisance. They've pecked at every +apricot on the trees already."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," said Rea. "Why can't they have some? I'd just as soon +eat after a linnet as not. Their little bills must be all clean and +sweet. Don't have them killed, Uncle George."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> +<p>"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 might +kill a thousand to-day and not know the difference."</p> + +<p>The cats had already done a good deal at hunting linnets on their own +account, in a clandestine and irregular manner. They were fond of linnet +flesh, and were only too glad to have the assistance of an able-bodied +man with a gun.</p> + +<p>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 for +the shot, watch to see where the birds fell, and then run and pick them +up,—it was droll to see how clever they became in carrying it out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>. +Retriever dogs could not have done better. The trouble was, that Jim +could shoot birds faster than the cats could eat them; and no cat would +stir from his bird till it was eaten up, sometimes feathers and all; and +after 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 tired +of the linnet diet, and did not work with so much enthusiasm. But at +first it was droll, indeed, to see their excitement. As soon as Jim +appeared with his gun, every cat in sight would come scampering; and it +would not be many minutes before the rest of the band—however they +might have been scattered,—would somehow or other get wind of what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> was +going on, and there would be the whole seventeen in a pack at Jim's +heels, all keeping a sharp lookout on the trees; then, as soon as a cat +saw a linnet, he would make for the tree, sometimes crouch under the +tree, sometimes run up it; in either case the linnet was pretty sure to +fly out: pop, would go Jim's rifle; down would come the linnet; +helter-skelter would go the cats to the spot where it fell; and in a +minute more, there would be nothing to be seen of that linnet, except a +few feathers and a drop or two of blood on the ground.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 423px;"> +<img src="images/i010.png" width="423" height="600" alt="Jim and the Cats hunting Linnets.—Page 111." title="Jim and the Cats hunting Linnets.—Page 111." /> +<span class="caption">Jim and the Cats hunting Linnets.—Page 111.</span> +</div> + +<p>Jusy liked to go with Jim on these hunting expeditions. But Rea would +never go. She used to sit sorrowfully at home, and listen for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +gunshots; and at every shot she heard, she would exclaim to Anita, "Oh, +dear! Oh, dear! There's another dear little linnet dead. I think Jusy is +a cruel, cruel boy! I wouldn't see them shot for anything, and I don't +like the cats any more."</p> + +<p>"But," said Anita, "my little seņorita did not mind having the gophers +killed. It does not hurt the linnets half so much to be shot dead in one +second, as it does the gophers to be caught in the cats' claws, and torn +to pieces sometimes while they are yet alive. The shot-gun kills in a +second."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," said Rea. "It seems different; the linnets are so +pretty."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<p>"That is not a reason for pitying them any more," said Anita gravely. +"You did not find those old Indians you saw yesterday pretty. On the +contrary, they were frightful to look at; yet you pitied them so much +that you shed tears."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" cried Rea, "I should think I did; and, Anita, I dreamed about +them all night long. I am going to ask Uncle George to build a little +house for them up in the caņon. There is plenty of room there he does +not want; and then nobody could drive them out of that place as long as +they live; and I could carry them their dinner every day. Don't you +think he will?"</p> + +<p>"Bless your kind little heart!" said Anita. "That would be asking a +great deal of your Uncle George, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> he is so kind, perhaps he will. If +somebody does not take compassion on the poor things, they will starve, +that is certain."</p> + +<p>"I shall ask him the minute he comes in," said Rea. "I am going down on +the piazza now to watch for him." And taking Fairy in her arms, Rea +hurried downstairs, went out on the veranda, and, climbing up into the +hammock, was sound asleep in ten minutes.</p> + +<p>She was waked up by feeling herself violently swung from side to side, +and opening her eyes, saw Jusy standing by her side, his face flushed +with the heat, his eyes sparkling.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +<p>"O Rea!" he said. "We have had a splendid hunt! What do you think! Jim +has shot twenty linnets in this one morning! and that Skipper, he's +eaten five of them! He's as good as a regular hunting dog."</p> + +<p>"Where's Uncle George?" asked Rea sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "I want +Uncle George! I don't want you to tell me anything about the cats' +eating the linnets. I hate them! They're cruel!"</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't cruel either!" retorted Jusy. "They've got to be killed. All +people that have orchards have to kill birds."</p> + +<p>"I won't, when I have an orchard," said Rea.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> +<p>"Then you won't have any orchard. That will be all," said Jusy. "At +least, you won't have any fruit orchard. You'll have just a tree +orchard."</p> + +<p>"Well, a tree orchard is good enough for anybody," replied Rea half +crossly. She was not yet quite wide awake. "There is plenty of fruit in +stores, to buy. We could buy our fruit."</p> + +<p>"Are you talking in your sleep, Rea?" cried Jusy, looking hard at her. +"I do believe you are! What ails you? The men that have the fruit to +sell, had to kill all the linnets and things, just the same way, or else +they wouldn't have had any fruit. Can't you see?"</p> + +<p>No, Rea could not see; and what was more, she did not want to see; and +as the proverb says, "There are non<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>e so blind as those who won't see."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk any more about it, Jusy," she said. "Do you think Uncle +George would build a little house up the caņon for poor old Ysidro?"</p> + +<p>"Who!" exclaimed Jusy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you cruel boy!" cried Rea. "You don't think of anything but killing +linnets, and such cruel things; I think you are real wicked. Don't you +know those poor old Indians we saw yesterday?—the ones that are going +to be turned out of their house, down in San Gabriel by the church. I +have been thinking about them ever since; and I dreamed last night that +Uncle George built them a house. I'm going to ask him to."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> +<p>"I bet you anything he won't, then," said Jusy. "The horrid old beggars! +He wouldn't have such looking things round!"</p> + +<p>Rea was wide awake now. She fixed her lovely blue eyes on Jusy's face +with a look which made him ashamed. "Jusy," she said, "I can't help it +if you are older than I am; I must say, I think you are cruel. You like +to kill linnets; and now you won't be sorry for these poor old Indians, +just because they are dirty and horrid-looking. You'd look just as bad +yourself, if your skin was black, and you were a hundred years old, and +hadn't got a penny in the world. You are real hard-hearted, Jusy, I do +think you <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>are!" and the tears came into Rea's eyes.</p> + +<p>"What is all this?" said Uncle George, coming up the steps. "Not +quarrelling, my little people!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! no!" cried both the children eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I never quarrel with Rea," added Jusy proudly. "I hope I am old enough +to know better than that."</p> + +<p>"I'm only two years the youngest," said Rea, in a mortified tone. "I +think I am old enough to be quarrelled with; and I do think you're +cruel, Jusy."</p> + +<p>This made Uncle George smile. "Look out!" he said. "You will be in a +quarrel yet, if you are not careful. What is it, Rea?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> +<p>While Rea was collecting her thoughts to reply, Jusy took the words out +of her mouth.</p> + +<p>"She thinks I am cruel, because I said I didn't believe you would build +a house for Indians up in your caņon."</p> + +<p>"It was not that!" cried Rea. "You are real mean, Jusy!"</p> + +<p>And so I think, myself, he was. He had done just the thing which is so +often done in this world,—one of the unfairest and most provoking of +things; he had told the truth in such a way as to give a wrong +impression, which is not so very far different, in my opinion, from +telling a lie.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<p>"A home for Indians up in the caņon!" exclaimed Uncle George, drawing +Rea to him, and seating her on his knee. "Did my little tender-hearted +Rea want me to do that? It would take a very big house, girlie, for all +the poor Indians around here;" and Uncle George looked lovingly at Rea, +and kissed her hair, as she nestled her head into his neck. "Just like +her mother," he thought. "She would have turned every house into an +asylum if she could."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not for all the Indians, Uncle George," said Rea, encouraged by his +kind smile,—"I am not such a fool as Jusy thinks,—only for those two +old ones that are going to be turned out of their home they've always +lived in. You know the ones I mean."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, yes,—old Ysidro and his wife. Well, Rea, I had already thought of +that myself. So you were not so much ahead of me."</p> + +<p>"There!" exclaimed Rea triumphantly, turning to Jusy. "What do you say +now?"</p> + +<p>Jusy did not know exactly what to say, he was so astonished; and as he +saw Jim and the cats coming up the road at that minute, he gladly took +the opportunity to spring down from the veranda and run to meet them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/i011.png" width="300" height="76" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV.</h2> + + +<p>The story of old Ysidro was indeed a sad one; and I think, with Rea, +that any one must be hard-hearted, who did not pity him. He was a very +old Indian; nobody knew how old; but he looked as if he must be a +hundred at least. Ever since he could remember, he had lived in a little +house in San Gabriel. The missionaries who first settled San Gabriel had +given a small piece of land to his father, and on it his father had +built this little house of rough bricks made of mud.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> Here Ysidro was +born, and here he had always lived. His father and mother had been dead +a long time. His brothers and sisters had all died or gone away to live +in some other place.</p> + +<p>When he was a young man, he had married a girl named Carmena. She was +still living, almost as old as he; all their children had either died, +or married and gone away, and the two old people lived alone together in +the little mud house.</p> + +<p>They were very poor; but they managed to earn just enough to keep from +starving. There was a little land around the house,—not more than an +acre; but it was as much as the old man <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>could cultivate. He raised a few +vegetables, chiefly beans, and kept some hens.</p> + +<p>Carmena had done fine washing for the San Gabriel people as long as her +strength held out; but she had not been able for some years to do that. +All she could do now was to embroider and make lace. She had to stay in +bed most of the time, for she had the rheumatism in her legs and feet so +she could but just hobble about; but there she sat day after day, +propped up in her bed, sewing. It was lucky that the rheumatism had not +gone into her hands, for the money she earned by making lace was the +chief part of their living.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> +<p>Sometimes Ysidro earned a little by days' works in the fields or +gardens; but he was so old, people did not want him if they could get +anybody else, and nobody would pay him more than half wages.</p> + +<p>When he could not get anything else to do, he made mats to sell. He made +them out of the stems of a plant called yucca; but he had to go a long +way to get these plants. It was slow, tedious work making the mats, and +the store-keepers gave him only seventy-five cents apiece for them; so +it was very little he could earn in that way.</p> + +<p>Was not this a wretched life? Yet they seemed always cheerful, and they +were as much attached to this poor little mud hovel as any of you can +be to your own beautiful homes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Would you think any one could have the heart to turn those two poor old +people out of their home? It would not seem as if a human being could be +found who would do such a thing. But there was. He was a lawyer; I could +tell you his true name, but I will not. He had a great deal to do with +all sorts of records and law papers, about land and titles and all such +things.</p> + +<p>There has always been trouble about the ownership of land in California, +because first it belonged to Spain, and then it belonged to Mexico; and +then we fought with Mexico, and Mexico gave it to us. So you can easily +see that where lands are passed along in that way, th<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>rough so many +hands, it might often be hard to tell to whom they justly belonged.</p> + +<p>Of course this poor old Ysidro did not know anything about papers. He +could not read or write. The missionaries gave the land to his father +more than a hundred years ago, and his father gave it to him, and that +was all Ysidro knew about it.</p> + +<p>Well, this lawyer was rummaging among papers and titles and maps of +estates in San Gabriel, and he found out that there was this little bit +of land near the church, which had been overlooked by everybody, and to +which nobody had any written title. He went over and looked at it, and +found Ysidro's house on it; and Ysidro told him he had alwa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>ys lived +there; but the lawyer did not care for that.</p> + +<p>Land is worth a great deal of money now in San Gabriel. This little +place of Ysidro's was worth a good many hundred dollars; and this lawyer +was determined to have it. So he went to work in ways I cannot explain +to you, for I do not understand them myself; and you could not +understand them even if I could write them out exactly: but it was all +done according to law; and the lawyer got it decided by the courts and +the judges in San Francisco that this bit of land was his.</p> + +<p>When this was all done, he had not quite boldness enough to come forward +himself, and turn the poor old Indians out. Even he had some sense of +shame; s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>o he slyly sold the land to a man who did not know anything +about the Indians being there.</p> + +<p>You see how cunning this was of him! When it came to the Indians being +turned out, and the land taken by the new owner, this lawyer's name +would not need to come out in the matter at all. But it did come out; so +that a few people knew what a mean, cruel thing he had done. Just for +the sake of the price of an acre of land, to turn two aged helpless +people out of house and home to starve! Do you think those dollars will +ever do that man any good as long as he lives? No, not if they had been +a million.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> +<p>Well, Mr. Connor was one of the persons who had found out about this; +and he had at first thought he would help Ysidro fight, in the courts, +to keep his place; but he found there would be no use in that. The +lawyer had been cunning enough to make sure he was safe, before he went +on to steal the old Indian's farm. The law was on his side. Ysidro did +not really own the land, according to law, though he had lived on it all +his life, and it had been given to his father by the missionaries, +almost a hundred years ago.</p> + +<p>Does it not seem strange that the law could do such a thing as that? +When the boys who read this story grow up to be men, I hope they will +do away with these bad laws, and make better on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>es.</p> + +<p>The way Rea had found out about old Ysidro was this: when Jim went to +the post-office for the mail, in the mornings, he used generally to take +Anita and Rea in the wagon with him, and leave them at Anita's mother's +while he drove on to the post-office, which was a mile farther.</p> + +<p>Rea liked this very much. Anita's mother had a big blue and green +parrot, that could talk in both Spanish and English; and Rea was never +tired of listening to her. She always carried her sugar; and she used to +cock her head on one side, and call out, "Seņorita! seņorita! Polly +likes sugar! sugar! sugar!" as soon as she saw Rea coming in at the +door. It was the only parrot Rea ha<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>d ever seen, and it seemed to her the +most wonderful creature in the world.</p> + +<p>Ysidro's house was next to Anita's mother's; and Rea often saw the old +man at work in his garden, or sitting on his door-step knitting lace, +with needles as fine as pins.</p> + +<p>One day Anita took her into the house to see Carmena, who was sitting in +bed at work on her embroidery. When Carmena heard that Rea was Mr. +Connor's niece, she insisted upon giving her a beautiful piece of lace +which she had made. Anita did not wish to take it, but old Carmena +said,—</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> +<p>"You must take it. Mr. Connor has given us much money, and there was +never anything I could do for him. Now if his little seņorita will take +this, it will be a pleasure."</p> + +<p>So Rea carried the lace home, and showed it to her Uncle George, and he +said she might keep it; and it was only a few weeks after this that when +Anita and Rea went down to San Gabriel, one day, they found the old +couple in great distress, the news having come that they were going to +be turned out of their house.</p> + +<p>And it was the night after this visit that Rea dreamed about the poor +old creatures all night, and the very next morning that she asked her +Uncle George if he would not build them a house in his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>caņon.</p> + +<p>After lunch, Mr. Connor said to Rea,—</p> + +<p>"I am going to drive this afternoon, Rea. Would you like to come with +me?"</p> + +<p>His eyes twinkled as he said it, and Rea cried out,—</p> + +<p>"Oh! oh! It is to see Ysidro and Carmena, I am sure!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her uncle; "I am going down to tell them you are going to +build them a house."</p> + +<p>"Uncle George, will you really, truly, do it?" said Rea. "I think you +are the kindest man in all the world!" and she ran for her hat, and was +down on the veranda waiting, long before the horses were ready.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> +<p>They found old Ysidro sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall of +his house. He had his face covered up with both hands, his elbows +leaning on his knees.</p> + +<p>"Oh, look at him! He is crying, Uncle George," said Rea.</p> + +<p>"No, dear," replied Mr. Connor. "He is not crying. Indian men very +rarely cry. He is feeling all the worse that he will not let himself +cry, but shuts the tears all back."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is lots worse," said Rea.</p> + +<p>"How do you know, pet?" laughingly said her uncle. "Did you ever try +it?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +<p>"I've tried to try it," said Rea, "and it felt so much worse, I +couldn't."</p> + +<p>It was not easy at first to make old Ysidro understand what Mr. Connor +meant. He could not believe that anybody would give him a house and home +for nothing. He thought Mr. Connor wanted to get him to come and work; +and, being an honest old fellow, he was afraid Mr. Connor did not know +how little strength he had; so he said,—</p> + +<p>"Seņor Connor, I am very old; I am sick too. I am not worth hiring to +work."</p> + +<p>"Bless you!" said Mr. Connor. "I don't want you to work any more than +you do now. I am only offering you a place to live in. If you are +strong enough to do a day's work, now and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>then, I shall pay you for it, +just as I would pay anybody else."</p> + +<p>Ysidro gazed earnestly in Mr. Connor's face, while he said this; he +gazed as if he were trying to read his very thoughts. Then he looked up +to the sky, and he said,—</p> + +<p>"Seņor, Ysidro has no words. He cannot speak. Will you come into the +house and tell Carmena? She will not believe if I tell it."</p> + +<p>So Mr. Connor and Rea went into the house, and there sat Carmena in bed, +trying to sew; but the tears were running out of her eyes. When she saw +Mr. Connor and Rea coming in at the door, she threw up her hands and +burst out into loud crying.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O seņor! seņor!" she said. "They drive us out of our house. Can you +help us? Can you speak for us to the wicked man?"</p> + +<p>Ysidro went up to the bed and took hold of her hand, and, pointing with +his other hand to Mr. Connor, said,—</p> + +<p>"He comes from God,—the seņor. He will help us!"</p> + +<p>"Can we stay?" cried Carmena.</p> + +<p>Here Rea began to cry.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Rea," said Mr. Connor. "That will make her feel worse."</p> + +<p>Rea gulped down her sobs, enough to say,—</p> + +<p>"But she doesn't want to come into the caņon! All she wants is to stay +here! She won't be glad of the new hou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>se."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will, by and by," whispered Mr. Connor. "Stop crying, that's +my good Rea."</p> + +<p>But Rea could not. She stood close to the bed, looking into old +Carmena's distressed face; and the tears would come, spite of all her +efforts.</p> + +<p>When Carmena finally understood that not even Mr. Connor, with all his +good 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, for +he was afraid Mr. Connor would think her ungrateful. But Mr. Connor +understood it very well.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<p>"I have lived only two years in my house," he said to Rea, "and I would +not change it for one twice as good that anybody could offer me. Think +how any one must feel about a house he has lived in all his life."</p> + +<p>"But it is a horrible little house, Uncle George," said Rea,—"the +dirtiest hovel I ever saw. It is worse than they are in Italy."</p> + +<p>"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 is +that one loves."</p> + +<p>Just as Mr. Connor and Rea came out of the house, who should come riding +by, but the very man that had caused all this unhappiness,—the lawyer +who had taken Ysidro's land! He was with the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>man to whom he had sold it. +They were riding up and down in the valley, looking over all their +possessions, and planning what big vineyards and orchards they would +plant and how much money they would make.</p> + +<p>When this man saw Mr. Connor, he turned as red as a turkey-cock's +throat. He knew very well what Mr. Connor thought of him; but he bowed +very low.</p> + +<p>Mr. Connor returned his bow, but with such a stern and scornful look on +his face, that Rea exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Uncle George? What makes you look so?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<p>"That man is a bad man, dear," he replied; "and has the kind of badness +I most despise." But he did not tell her that he was the man who was +responsible for the Indians being driven out of their home. He thought +it better for Rea not to know it.</p> + +<p>"Are there different sorts of badness,—some badnesses worse than +others?" asked Rea.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether one kind is really any worse than another," said +Mr. Connor. "But there are some kinds which seem to me twice as bad as +others; and meanness and cruelty to helpless creatures seem to me the +very worst of all."</p> + +<p>"To me too!" said Rea. "Like turning out poor Ysidro."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Connor. "That is just one of the sort I mean."</p> + +<p>Just before they reached the beginning of the lands of Connorloa, they +crossed the grounds of a Mr. Finch, who had a pretty house and large +orange orchards. Mr. Finch had one son, Harry, about Jusy's age, and the +two boys were great cronies.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Connor turned the horses' heads into these grounds, he saw Jusy +and Harry under the trees in the distance.</p> + +<p>"Why, there is Jusy," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Rea. "Harry came for him before lunch. He said he had +something to show him."</p> + +<p>As soon as Jusy caught sight of the carriage, he came running towards +it, crying,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle George, stop! Rea! come! I've found Snowball! Come, see him!"</p> + +<p>Snowball had been missing for nearly a month, and nobody could imagine +what had become of him. They finally came to the conclusion that he must +have got killed in some way.</p> + +<p>Mr. Connor stopped the horses; and Rea jumped out and ran after Jusy, +and Mr. Connor followed. They found the boys watching excitedly, one at +each end of a little bridge over the ditch, through which the water was +brought down for irrigating Mr. Finch's orchards. Harry's dogs were +there too, one at each end of the bridge, barking, yelping, watching as +excitedly as the boys. But no Snowball.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where is he?" cried Rea.</p> + +<p>"In under there," exclaimed Jusy. "He's got a rabbit in there; he'll be +out presently."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, there he was, plainly to be heard, scuffling and spitting +under the bridge.</p> + +<p>The poor little rabbit ran first to one end of the bridge, then to the +other, trying to get out; but at each end he found a dog, barking to +drive him back.</p> + +<p>Presently Snowball appeared with the dead rabbit in his teeth. Dropping +it 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 two +dogs an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>d he, fell to eating the rabbit in the friendliest manner.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think!" cried Jusy. "He's been hunting this way, with these +dogs, all this time. You see they are so big they can't get in under the +bridge, and he can; so they drive the rabbits in under there, and he +goes in and gets them. Isn't he smart? Harry first saw him doing it two +weeks ago, he says. He didn't know it was our cat, and he wondered whose +it could be. But Snowball and the dogs are great friends. They go +together all the time; and wherever he is, if he hears them bark, he +knows they've started up something, and he comes flying! I think <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>it is +just splendid!"</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing!" said Rea, looking at the fast-disappearing rabbit.</p> + +<p>"Why, you eat them yourself!" shouted Jusy. "You said it was as good as +chicken, the other day. It isn't any worse for cats and dogs to eat +them, than it is for us; is it, Uncle George?"</p> + +<p>"I think Jusy has the best of the argument this time, pet," said Uncle +George, looking fondly at Jusy.</p> + +<p>"Girls are always that way," said Harry politely. "My sisters are just +so. They can't bear to see anything killed."</p> + +<p>After this day, Rea spent most of her time in the caņon, watching the +men at work on Ysidro's house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>The caņon was a wild place; it was a sort of split in the rocky sides of +the mountain; at the top it was not much more than two precipices joined +together, with just room enough for a brook to come down. You can see in +the picture where it was, though it looks there like little more than a +groove in the rocks. But it was really so big in some places that huge +sycamore trees grew in it, and there were little spaces of good earth, +where Mr. Connor had planted orchards.</p> + +<p>It was near these, at the mouth of the caņon, that he put Ysidro's +house. It was built out of mud bricks, called adobe, as near as +possible like Ysidro's old house,—two small rooms, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> a thatched roof +made of reeds, which grew in a swamp.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Connor did not call it Ysidro's house. He called it Rea's house; +and the men called it "the seņorita's house." It was to be her own, Mr. +Connor said,—her own to give as a present to Ysidro and Carmena.</p> + +<p>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 of +room in the wagon, besides, for the few little bits of furniture they +had.</p> + +<p>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 it +on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>the table, all ready for them.</p> + +<p>When they lifted Carmena out of the wagon, she held, tight clutched in +her hand, a small basket filled with earth; she seemed hardly willing to +let go of it for a moment.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" said Jusy.</p> + +<p>"A few handfuls of the earth that was ours," replied Ysidro. "We have +brought it with us, to keep it always. The man who has our home will not +miss it."</p> + +<p>The tears came into Mr. Connor's eyes, and he turned away.</p> + +<p>Rea did not understand. She looked puzzled; so did Jusy.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> +<p>Jim explained. "The Indian women often do that," he said. "When they +have to move away from a home they love they carry a little of the earth +with them; sometimes they put it in a little bag, and wear it hanging on +their necks; sometimes they put it under their heads at night."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Carmena, who had listened to what Jim said. "One can sleep +better on the earth that one loves."</p> + +<p>"I say, Rea!" cried Jusy. "It is a shame they had to come away!"</p> + +<p>"I told you so, Jusy," said Rea gently. "But you didn't seem to care +then."</p> + +<p>"Well, I do now!" he cried. "I didn't think how bad they'd feel. Now if +it were in Italy, I'd go and tell the King all about it. Who is there +to tell here?" he continued, turning to his Uncle Ge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>orge. "Who is there +here, to tell about such things? There must be somebody."</p> + +<p>Mr. Connor smiled sadly. "The trouble is, there are too many," he said.</p> + +<p>"Who is above all the rest?" persisted Jusy. "Isn't there somebody at +the top, as our King is in Italy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is one above all the rest," replied Mr. Connor. "We call him +the President."</p> + +<p>"Well, why don't you write and tell him about Ysidro?" said Jusy. "I +wish I could see him, I'd tell him. It's a shame!"</p> + +<p>"Even the President could not help this, Jusy," said Mr. Connor. "The +law was against poor Ysidro; there was n<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>o help; and there are thousands +and thousands of Indians in just the same condition he is."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't the President make the laws?" said Jusy.</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Connor. "Congress makes the laws."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Jusy, "like our Parliament."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Connor.</p> + +<p>Jusy said no more; but he thought of little else all the afternoon; and +at bedtime he said to Rea,—</p> + +<p>"Rea, I am real sorry I didn't care about those old Indians at first, +when you did. But I'm going to be good to them now, and help them all I +can; and I have made up my mind that when I am a man I shall not go to +Italy, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>s I said I would, to be an officer for the King. I shall stay +here, and be an officer for the American President, instead; and I shall +tell him about Ysidro, and about all the rest of the Indians."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There is nothing more to be told about the Hunter Cats. By degrees they +disappeared: some of them went to live at other houses in the San +Gabriel Valley; some of them ran off and lived a wild life in the +caņons; and some of them, I am afraid, must have died for want of food.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> +<p>Rea was glad when they were all gone; but Jusy missed the fun of seeing +them hunt gophers and linnets.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, some day, I shall write another story, and tell you more about +Jusy and Rea, and how they tried to help the Indians.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i012.png" width="400" height="170" alt="Mats made by Ysidro.—Page 126." title="Mats made by Ysidro.—Page 126." /> +<span class="caption">Mats made by Ysidro.—Page 126.</span> +</div> + +<div class="trans-note"> + Transcriber's Note: Only 'The Hunter Cats of Connorloa', is transcribed in this e-text. + </div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Hunter Cats of Connorloa, by Helen Jackson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTER CATS OF CONNORLOA *** + +***** This file should be named 28385-h.htm or 28385-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/3/8/28385/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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