problematical visitors.

The health-giving weeks passed by, and I gained in strength each day.
When I went there, I was so weak that I could not have spanked a baby,
but I soon felt equal to discharging a cook. Frequently I went far away from the cabin, in the search for food and
firewood, leaving Tom-Tom at home to keep house. The intelligent animal
missed me greatly, but seldom offered to go along, his padded feet not
being suited to the long overland journeys. I made him some chamois-skin
boots out of some of the Natural History Shams I found in print, and,
for a few times, he gallantly accompanied me, but it soon became evident
that he preferred to stay at home and bear his loneliness, rather than
to face dangers that he knew not of.

When I returned from my hunting trips with a string of Fish, a load of
wood, a basket of Quail on toast, or some other woodland delicacy,
Tom-Tom, who was watching from the roof of the cabin, would sight me
from afar off, and after putting on his boots to protect his tender
feet, would come to meet me by leaps and bounds, purring like a
locomotive under full steam. Words cannot describe my joy at this
hospitable greeting, and I made up my mind that I would love and cherish
Tom-Tom, even though I never saw a Mouse again.

However, as we became accustomed to our new home, Tom-Tom regained some
part of his former courage, and at times would wander quite a distance
from the cabin. His method was really very original and deserves
recording, as I have not since found it in any book on Natural History.
At the time, I marked it among my own observations, appropriately
enough, with a maltese cross. With the long, prolonged howl which meant farewell, Tom-Tom plunged into
the depths of the forest, stopping at the first tree to sharpen his
claws. Suspecting that he was in search of game for our Sunday dinner, I
followed him cautiously at a respectful interval. Strangely enough, I
found that the trees leading to the left, for a long way into the wood,
were scarred with Tom-Tom’s claws. It was some time before the
significance of this burst upon me. He was blazing his trail through the
woods that he might not get lost coming home.

As time went on, these absences became more frequent, and once he even
stayed out all night. In the morning the delicate tracery was again seen
in the sand around my cabin door, only this time there was no picture of
a Cat. While I was engaged with my household tasks, I felt myself observed.

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