King of the Vagabonds (18 page)

Brute was watching with mixed feelings. He was, first of all, surprised that Sammy was still around. He regretted that he had failed to drive him away from the area. As Pinkie ran eagerly after his son, a wave of jealousy swept over him – he was reminded once again that he had a rival. But Sammy’s coolness in dispossessing Patch earned Brute’s grudging admiration. It seemed that he meant to prove that he was by no means beaten, despite his sufferings. Brute took a decision. It was obvious Sammy had experienced great difficulty finding food. Yet he had not given up. There was one final chance of fulfilling Stella’s wishes and also of ridding himself of Sammy’s rivalry. That was to demand that now his son must deal with the next part of the test.

Leaving his own kill where it lay, Brute followed Sammy’s direction. He did not intend to speak now, but he wanted to know where Sammy could be located. The young tabby had dragged Patch’s rabbit through the gap in the high wire fence and was on his way to his own corner of the vegetation. Brute kept him in view.

Sunny was furious that Sammy appeared to be getting away. Patch had not moved at all and Brute, the King Cat himself, was clearly not going to do anything.

‘This can’t be borne!’ he snarled to Pinkie, who happened to be nearest to him. ‘What’s wrong with you all? Can’t you see what that animal’s up to?’

‘Why are you so interested, Sunny?’ Pinkie asked sweetly. ‘It’s not your rabbit.’

‘No, and it’s not Sammy’s either!’ the ginger cat cried. ‘Just let him try that with me.’

‘What a state you’re getting yourself in,’ Mottle remarked.

At last Patch spoke up. ‘Save your anger for your own affairs,’ he said. ‘If I’m not bothered, why should you be?’

‘But . . . but . . . how can you just—’ spluttered Sunny.

‘Just allow it?’ Patch suggested. ‘Oh, I suppose because of a sneaking respect for Sammy. And a certain amount of sympathy’

‘Sympathy! That beats everything! Of all the stupid—’

‘Oh, do shut up, Sunny,’ said Pinkie. ‘Your envy is very tedious.’

‘Envy?’ growled Sunny. ‘Of a human’s pet?’

‘He doesn’t look much like a pet any more,’ Patch answered him.

‘That’s what he can’t stand,’ Pinkie observed. ‘That Sammy is as much a vagabond now as he is.’

Brute saw Sammy to his hideout and turned away. He
was not going to interrupt his meal for a while. He returned for his own catch.

‘It’s time for the next phase of the trial,’ he announced to the others.

The other cats knew perfectly well what that entailed. Sammy was to be allowed to hunt for himself again now that he looked too weak to be able to manage it.

‘I still think Sammy will fool us all,’ Pinkie said confidently.

‘He’s fooled me very well already,’ Patch remarked ruefully.

‘He won’t fool me,’ Sunny vowed. ‘I’ll see to it that he never catches another rabbit.’

The other cats ignored him. They thought his obsession was ludicrous. Even Brute’s face held an expression of contempt.

That night the King Cat sought out his son. Sammy had eaten his first good meal for days and was feeling quite cheerful. He greeted Brute with the remark, ‘I suppose you’ve come to reprimand me?’

‘No,’ answered his father. ‘Why should I? No, I’ve come for quite another reason. It seems to me that recently you must have got quite a good idea of what life in the winter can be like?’

‘I’ve had some difficulties,’ Sammy acknowledged. He did not enlarge on them.

‘I can see that you have. So now it’s time for you to prove that, despite them, you can still look after yourself. And I mean – by showing you’ve retained the strength to hunt.’

Sammy’s ears pricked up. ‘Ah, now I can resume hunting? I wondered when you’d say the word. But look at me. Just what d’you think I’m capable of hunting now?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Brute. ‘But the only true test is a
rabbit, and that’s what you’ll have to deal with. You remember the rules.’

‘The way I feel I should think the rabbit will be in a fitter state to deal with
me
.’

‘That’s your problem, Brute said, shortly. ‘Tomorrow at dusk. I’ll be watching for you.’ He left abruptly. He did not doubt that Sammy would fall at the next hurdle. Stella would have Sammy restored to her soon afterwards.

The next day Sammy ate another portion of rabbit. His throat troubled him much less now and, altogether, he began to feel stronger. At dusk he encountered Brute by the vagabonds’ entrance to the allotment area. Without a word the King Cat led Sammy through. It was still sufficiently light for Sammy to see that all the cats were present, even Scruff. They all appeared to be waiting for his arrival. Sunny was pacing to and fro in a nervous sort of way.

‘Choose your position, Sammy,’ Brute said.

Sammy looked around uncertainly. ‘The rabbits don’t always come,’ he muttered. ‘What if we don’t see any?’

‘You’ll just have to trust to your luck,’ was the answer.

The other cats were silent. But Brindle watched Sammy settle himself and then joined him. ‘I think Sunny is up to something,’ he whispered.

Certainly the ginger was the only animal still on his feet. Suddenly Sammy recalled that, even if he should catch a rabbit, he must then fight one of the other cats (whom Brute would select) for its possession. So Sunny must be the candidate – his nervousness betrayed him. Sammy was not optimistic. In his present state, he could not hope to do very well against Sunny, the second most powerful animal amongst the vagabonds.

‘He’s going to fight me,’ he answered Brindle.

Sammy’s friend made no comment. He did not have to. It was obvious what he was thinking.

However, Brute had not chosen Sunny, nor any other cat, to fight his son. In his mind there was no need, since Sammy’s hunting was not going to be successful. In fact Sunny’s restlessness was part of a plan known only to himself. He stayed on his feet so that he would be the first of the cats to know if rabbits were coming to feed. He had no intention of allowing Sammy the remotest chance.

There was a long wait in store for the vagabonds. They began to get irritated with Sunny’s continual pacing. They were there on their own account, as well as to witness Sammy’s performance.

‘How do you expect rabbits to venture here when they can see you moving about?’ Patch demanded of the ginger.

‘Why should you worry?’ Sunny snapped at him. ‘You can’t keep the ones you catch anyway.’

‘Lie down, Sunny! What are you doing this for?’ Mottle and Brownie called out together.

Pinkie guessed it was some plan to thwart Sammy, and added her voice. ‘You’re spoiling all our chances,’ she cried, ‘including your own!’

Sunny glared at her but, in the end, with all the cats objecting, he was obliged to submit.

For a long time there was no sound. But at last a faint rustling roused their hopes. Sunny jumped up again. There was a solitary, elderly-looking rabbit moving unsteadily through the plants, nibbling here and there. It looked so slow and feeble that it seemed to Sunny that even Scruff could manage it. To forestall Sammy he raced out at the old creature, not with the idea of catching it, but simply to scare it off. The rabbit was busy chewing a cabbage leaf and did not see its danger at once. But, when
Sunny was almost on it and could have pounced, it turned tail and loped away. It had no great speed and was, quite obviously, badly hampered by age.

The other cats had held back, naturally assuming they had no hope with Sunny so far in advance. But when he showed no signs of wishing to bring the animal down, they spurted belatedly into action, Sammy amongst them.

From a prone start, Sammy had the advantage of all of them. He quickly left them behind and gained on his elderly quarry and its initial pursuer. Sunny looked round and saw the tabby drawing close. He ran across his path, meaning to check him.

Sammy instinctively leapt upwards. He cleared Sunny’s body at a bound and, in the next few strides, drew level with the rabbit and pulled it down. A younger animal would have escaped him, but this one had neither the swiftness nor the strength necessary. Sammy killed his victim and began to drag it back towards Brute as proof of his success.

But Sunny was not finished yet. He was furious, both with Sammy and with himself. With a howl he launched himself at the tabby. Sammy dropped the rabbit in order to defend himself. His run had left him feeling quite shaky. He was no longer a match for the big ginger and could only try to save himself from injury.

Sunny’s weight pinned Sammy to the ground. For the second time the tabby was at the ginger’s mercy, but he was not entirely without strength and he struggled to free himself.

‘The rabbit’s . . . yours . . . if you want it,’ Sammy panted.

‘I don’t want it,’ Sunny snapped.

‘Then why—’ Sammy broke off as he saw the other cats clustering around to watch the contest. His eyes met
Pinkie’s. She was soundlessly pleading for Sammy’s release in her heart, but her eyes put a new spirit into Sammy. He was suddenly reminded of what he would lose if he should give up now.

He exerted an extra burst of strength, shook Sunny clear and grabbed the rabbit again. Without a backward glance he moved off as quickly as he could towards the high wire fence. The rabbit bumped over the ground between Sammy’s forelegs. The cat’s jaws and his shoulders ached unbearably. Sunny lost time as he gaped at the retreating animal in astonishment. He had been pitched on his back, much to his surprise, and, restored to his feet, hesitated before deciding upon his next action.

Galvanized into action once more, Sunny dashed to the hole in the fence for the final tussle. But he had forgotten Sammy’s skill and also the terms of the test of survival. Sammy, however, had not. He was going to see it through to the end.

At the foot of the wire fence Sammy took a firmer grip on the carcass. Then, shakily, and extremely slowly, he edged his way up the swaying fence, just as he had done once before.

The other vagabonds crowded around the base, but none of them attempted to follow. Only Sammy had ever climbed up the wire. Pinkie was in the greatest excitement. Brute stared, willing Sammy to drop his burden, to give up, even to fall. . . .

Yet Sammy clung on. He thought he never would – never could – reach the top. Exhaustion was engulfing him, but his will was strong. His eyes swam, his body trembled, yet still he mounted. At last the top was reached. He staggered once or twice, then crawled along the top to a point from where he could look down on them all. The fence wavered and rattled. The rabbit’s
weight dragged at his jaws. But Sammy was immovable. He knew none of the cats could get to him. The test was over.

Pinkie cried out, ‘Sammy! Sammy! Sammy has triumphed!’ She turned to Brute. ‘I knew it, I knew it,’ she chanted. ‘I knew he would do it.’ She was ecstatic.

Brute looked at her without a word. He felt that his reign was coming to an end. The other cats, too, were silent. All of them knew that Sammy had done more, far more, than any of them had ever done. It had never been necessary, nor expected of them to perform such feats. They were humbled, even stunned. Sunny was the first to slink away. Soon Brute, too, disappeared and, one by one, the others followed. When only Pinkie remained Sammy at last let the rabbit drop. The little white cat ignored it. She mewed to her hero to come down. Slowly Sammy descended.

17

The King Cat

Pinkie stayed with Sammy until he recovered. A drizzle of rain began to fall. Its chill dampness acted like a tonic on the exhausted young tabby. He heard Pinkie’s purrs, saw her bright eyes so close to him and knew, beyond any doubt, that he had proved himself.

When Sammy was ready, Pinkie led the way to the broken-down shelter. Instinctively she had sensed that Brute had vacated the area. Sure enough, there was no sign of him. He had gone wandering again.

Later, under the fence, the forgotten rabbit was stealthily carried away by Scruff.

A few days passed and Sammy was once more himself. Pinkie and Brindle brought food, and even Scruff offered the less tasty parts of the elderly rabbit Sammy had caught. But soon Sammy was a hunter again, and then the skills he had acquired really came to the fore. His great speed and a new kind of cunning ensured that he never went hungry and, because of this, neither did Pinkie. The vagabonds realized that the old King Cat had been superseded. The deference they had paid to Brute was now paid, in his absence, to Sammy. Sunny kept himself out of sight as much as he could. He knew that he dare not meddle with a strong, healthy Sammy. He longed for Brute’s return. He guessed that eventually there must be
a confrontation, for Brute was not likely to cede his supremacy without a battle.