Shireen and her Friends Part 18

"But," added wise, wee Warlock, with a sigh, "it will be as bad in this country, Tabby, before long."

"_Yes_," said Tabby.

"What I would propose if I were in Parliament," said Warlock, "would be this. We have a close season for birds, and even for seals, so we ought to have a close season for rats also."

"Bravo! Bravo! tse, tse, tse!" cried d.i.c.k.

"Then if we had a close season for rats, though the farmers might grumble a bit, Tabby and I would have sport, and it is everybody for himself in this world. But, dear Mother s.h.i.+reen, we are interrupting the easy flow of your narrative. Pray go on."

Yes, Warlock, and I think if you wait for sport till a close season for rats becomes the law of the land, you'll be pretty old and stiff before you get it. But on board the saucy _Venom_, although Tom and I scorned to catch c.o.c.kroaches like the big ape and the mongoose, we had fine fun at night fis.h.i.+ng.

"Fis.h.i.+ng?" cried Tabby. "Why, whatever did you catch, Mother s.h.i.+reen?

Sharks?"

No, my dear, nor whales either, though a shark once nearly caught me.

No, we caught flying fish, Tom and I.

"Tse, tse, tse!" from d.i.c.k.

I observe that d.i.c.k is much surprised. Perhaps he thinks I am becoming foolish in my old age. Not a bit of it, d.i.c.k. Tom taught me how to catch the flying fish, and I soon became a very apt pupil indeed. And easy work it was. You see, flying fish instead of being chased by dolphins, though they sometimes may be, or by sharks either, are generally out in shoals, looking for their own food, and they fly, Warlock, just for the fun of the thing.

"For sport like?" said Warlock.

Yes, Warlock, for sport.

Well, they always will fly to a light, and so all Tom and I had to do was to sit on the top of the bulwarks and look down. The starlight, flas.h.i.+ng in our eyes, soon attracted the attention of the fish, and they jumped over our heads, and danced a jig on the deck behind us.

Then Tom and I went and had a very nice little supper, and there was always more than we could eat, so the men on watch had some too.

"Well, that is good," said Tabby. "I've tried my hand at trout fis.h.i.+ng, but I never heard of flying-fish catching like that before."

"Trout fis.h.i.+ng," said s.h.i.+reen, "is what I should call mere bottom fis.h.i.+ng."

"Yes, and you do go to the bottom too, with a plump."

s.h.i.+reen laughed.

"It may be all very well for short-haired Tabbies like you, my dear,"

she remarked. "But, la! to get my jacket wet would entirely spoil it; besides, you know, I'm not so young as you. If I got wet I should be laid up with the rheumatics for a month to a dead certainty. Heigho! it might be a _dead_ certainty too, though that, children, is only my little joke. But tell us Tabby, how you got on fis.h.i.+ng."

Tabby sat up for a moment, and d.i.c.k flew off her back, crying,--

"I say, I say, what is it? you r-r-rascal!"

"Well," said Tabby, "it wasn't with me that the catching of trout originated, nor with Warlock either. It happened thus. In a cottage near the forest, a year or two ago, there came an old maiden lady to live, who was very fond indeed of cats. She had three altogether, and she very wisely permitted them to roam about at the freedom of their own will. Two of her cats were ladies, the other was a fine red fellow, of the name of Joe.

"The gamekeepers said that Joe was a noted thief, and that he caught their birds and their leverets also, and that they would shoot him on sight. When the old lady heard this, she went straight to the keepers'

huts by the forest edge. Joe was trotting by her side, but as soon as they were within fifty yards of the cottages, Joe got up on his mistress's shoulder. She was a strong old lady, and armed with a two-horse power umbrella in one hand, and a big book in the other.

"'Do you see this cat?' said Miss Simmonds to the head keeper.

"'Can't help seeing him, miss,' he answered, 'besides, we know him; he kills our birds and our leverets too, and we've seen him take a grilse out of the river!'

"'Well, that is a pity; I just called to say that I was sorry, and that I will do my best to keep Joe at home, though this is difficult sometimes with a tom-cat, you know. But if he kills a bird or a leveret, you must let me know the amount of damage, and I'll pay. But,'

she added, 'you must not take the law into your own hands and shoot my cat.'

"'Nonsense, miss!' cried the keeper, pointing to a board on which was printed:

"Trespa.s.sers will be Prosecuted."

"Dogs will be Shot."

"'That's the way we serves dogs, miss, and it isn't likely we'll trouble about sparing a cat.'

"Then Miss Simmonds stuck her big umbrella ferule down in the turf, and took the big book from under her arm.

"'Listen,' she said. 'Ahem! _Corner_ versus _Champneys_. 2 Marsh, 584.

A gamekeeper has no right to kill a dog for following game, even although the owner of the dog has received notice that trespa.s.sing dogs will be shot. In such a case as this, the shooter must pay the full price of the animal shot.'

"'Didn't know that before,' said the keeper. 'But, begging your pardon, miss, cats are not dogs.'

"'The same law holds good, sir.'

"'Cats can be trapped, miss.'

"'Listen again,' said Miss Simmonds. '_Townsend_ versus _Withan_. In this case it was ruled that the defendant was answerable to the plaintiff for injuries sustained by his cat and dog in a trap, although he had no intention of injuring plaintiff, and meant only to catch foxes and vermin.'

"'Poison, miss, is a quiet way of getting rid of cats. I'll try that.'

"Once again, Miss Simmonds turned over the pages of her book, and proved to the satisfaction of even those surly keepers, that the putting down of poisoned flesh in a field laid the perpetrator under a penalty of 10 pounds.

"Well, although Miss Simmonds laid down the law to those men, she did not part from them in an unfriendly way, and something bright and yellow pa.s.sed from her hand to that of the keeper.

"But in future Miss Simmonds restricted Joe's liberty somewhat.

"Well, one day, Warlock and I were sitting by the burn [a small stream or rivulet is so called in Scotland] somewhat disconsolately, for we hadn't had very much sport that day, only a few field mice and a mole, when I heard a cat mew softly within a few yards of me.

"I looked quickly round, and Warlock p.r.i.c.ked up his ears, and prepared for instant combat.

"It was Joe.

"And very handsome he looked. I lost my heart to him at once.

"'Shall I give him a fit?' said Warlock.

"'No, no,' I cried hastily; 'that is Joe.'

"'I'm a little afraid of your dog, miss,' said Joe. 'Will he bite?'