King of the Vagabonds Read Free

steadily and he did not forget what he had seen from the apple tree.

3
    Learning
    The trouble was, life was too quiet. Stella and Josephine were quite content to stay in their own garden. As Josephine got bigger, she became more and more like her mother, in looks and in temperament. She was docile, almost to the point of serenity. They spent most of their time together and resembled two sisters rather than mother and daughter. Sammy was not resentful of their preference for each other’s company. He enjoyed a feeling of freedom and, in any case, there was always Molly.
    Sammy was very fond of Molly. She seemed to understand him and, although at her age she was not the most exciting of animals, she had a great fund of knowledge about all sorts of things. In her younger days she had accompanied her master far and wide in the area. She knew all about what went on at the bomb site; what creatures were there and how they lived. But she was always careful not to make the outside world sound attractive to Sammy. In fact she warned him of what life could be like for those who were less fortunate than themselves. She wanted to be sure the young cat did not harbour any ideas of trying out his father’s sort of existence, for she soon noticed he was very interested in him. He was always wondering what he looked like and if he would ever see him.
    At night Sammy, Stella and Josephine usually slept in the shed which always remained open. It was warm and dry and they had it all to themselves, except for the occasional mouse. But, since they were so comfortable and well fed, none of them showed any interest in mice. Stella had never been known to catch one and so the two youngsters were equally indifferent.
    One night Sammy lay awake while the other cats slept. He felt restless and was thinking of his father again. There was a pitter-patter of quick little feet across the shed floor. Bright moonlight penetrated the wooden building and Sammy looked around him listlessly. A mouse was running about in search of titbits. Sammy watched with no more than a flicker of interest.
    The mouse stopped, sat on its hind legs and wrinkled its nose. Its forepaws hung limp as it tested the air. Some sixth sense had told the little animal it was noticed.
    ‘I know you’re watching me,’ the mouse squeaked. ‘I shall see you in a moment.’ It made no move to run away, perhaps because it was not sure which was the safest direction to run.
    ‘I am watching,’ Sammy confessed, ‘but for no special reason.’
    The mouse dropped to all fours and his little black beady eyes focussed on the cat. When he was sure who had spoken he relaxed visibly.
    ‘Sammy,’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ said the cat. ‘How do you know?’
    ‘I’ve watched you grow up, you and your sister. I was born in the shed too.’ And the mouse squeaked with amusement.
    ‘I don’t know your name,’ Sammy said. He was wide awake now and becoming more interested.
    ‘Tiptoe.’
    ‘Very appropriate, I should think. Anyway, it’s good tosee a new face. Nothing ever happens around here.’
    ‘You’ve got to make it happen,’ the mouse told him. ‘I get into no end of scrapes. The other day I climbed up the shed door. Just as I got to the top a gust of wind caught it and blew it back against the wall. I just had time to jump down or I should have been squashed flat.’
    ‘That was a huge jump for a little creature like you,’ said Sammy.
    ‘An enormous jump,’ Tiptoe averred. ‘But cats aren’t the only animals who can jump. Of course, I was a bit shaken up for a while, so I went and found something to eat and then I soon felt better.’
    ‘Doesn’t the mistress feed you?’ Sammy asked naively.
    ‘The mistress? Oh, you mean – no, no, she doesn’t know about us mice. At least, I hope she doesn’t. Human beings don’t approve of us usually. Tee hee hee.’ He seemed to find it all very comical.
    Sammy was delighted with his new friend. He seemed to have more life in his