Turning, I saw upon my door-sill a little white-throated Field Mouse,
sitting upright, and waving a friendly paw at me in salutation. It was
Little Upsidaisi! I always called him that, thinking the Indian name
much more musical than our own. As soon as he saw me looking at him, he hurried away, but the memory of
the hunted look in his bright eyes haunted me for many a day. I saw very little of Tom-Tom now. For days together he would remain away
from home, and I was lonely indeed. Late one afternoon, as I returned
from my hunting trip, I saw a picture of a Cat newly drawn in the sand,
and after it, very distinctly, was placed a large interrogation point. Fully understanding the work of that wonderful tail, I took the point of
my umbrella and printed in large letters, “NO,” underlining it to make
it more emphatic. After that, Upsidaisi came every day, selecting such
times as the Cat was out. He seemed to feel that he had a friend and
protector in me.Before many weeks had passed, Upsidaisi had become more bold. He practically lived in the cabin, and took refuge in my sleeve or trouser leg upon approach of the Cat. Tom-Tom, engrossed with affairs of his own, seemed unconscious of his rival’s presence, and this was well, for Upsidaisi was faithful and Tom-Tom was not.

How well I remember the day when Tom-Tom came in suddenly, and saw Upsidaisi sitting on the edge of my plate, helping himself daintily to fried bacon with a straw from the broom neatly slit at one end! There was a low growl from the Cat and a snort of terror from Upsidaisi as he ran down my neck for safety. I wore larger collars in those days, that the panics of my little friend might not cause a stricture in my œsophagus.

After that, it was war to the knife, as I too well understood, and I could only tremble and wait for the end. Both of my pets were aflame with jealousy, and there could be but one result. The end of a wild animal is always a tragedy.

One day, when Little Upsidaisi was asleep in my hat, I followed Tom-Tom’s trail into the woods, paying close attention to the marks upon the trees. Far away, so far away that I no longer wondered how the Cat had worn out eight separate and distinct boots in as many weeks, I came upon a nest at the foot of a pine tree, in the hollow formed by the outspreading roots, and lined with the fragrant pine needles.

A large, matronly, black and white Cat sat proudly on the nest, brooding over her young. She trembled at my approach, but did not seek safety in flight. With a few kind words I lifted her, and discovered six squalling little ones under her. One black, 

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