Blackie's Fright

I N the garret of a great big house on Madison Square lived Mr. and Mrs. Blackrat and their little son Blackie. They thought Blackie was the finest fellow in all the world. He had a soft glossy coat, and a long slender tail, and a pair of the merriest black eyes that ever you saw.

Of course there were other rats living in the garret on Madison Square—more than a hundred, I guess,—mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles and cousins, besides great-great-great-grandfathers and grandmothers.

They all lived in the garret together; and fine times they had, too, scampering over the garret floor, or tipping down the winding stairway that led down, down, down to the big cool pantry where the fat cook kept all the cake and pies and cheese and butter and other nice things which rats like to eat.

It was there that they had the greatest fun. But something sorrowful happened one day, for a great big gray cat came to live in the house on Madison Square; and that was dreadful news to all the rats, I can tell you.

"Oh, dear, dear," they said, "why could n't that gray cat go somewhere else to live? Now he will always be after us!"

So, while the cat liked the rats, the rats did not like the cat, you see, and every time they saw the tip of his nose or even the end of his tail, away they would run, helter-skelter, pell-mell, head over heels, one right over the other, trying to get out of the way of the great big gray cat, and oh, it would frighten them almost to death!

But I started out to tell you about Blackie,—Mr. and Mrs. Blackrat's little son. He had never seen a cat in all his life, and his mother had told him she hoped he never would. But of course he did, and it happened this way:

One morning Blackie was out in the back yard playing under the lumber pile, and all at once his mother heard him yell, and his father heard him squeal, and then Blackie came scampering up the back steps into the garret. And, only think, a tiny piece of his tail had been bitten off!

"Dear me, how dreadful!" said Mrs. Blackrat. "A piece of your beautiful tail! What have you been doing, Blackie? Come right here and tell me all about it!"

Blackie wiped away his tears and said:

"Well, mother, I was just playing 'hopping' under the lumber pile, when all at once I saw two queer things I had never seen before looking at me. One of them was ugly and the other was pretty."

"Tell me how the pretty one looked," said Mrs. Blackrat.

"Beautiful," said Blackie; "almost like us, mother, only ever so much larger. It came creeping, creeping towards me, and I could n't turn my head away for looking. It had a soft gray coat, and a pretty waving tail, and pink ears, and soft paws, and the brightest, kindest eyes.

"I was sure whatever it was it would be the very best friend to rats, and I was just waiting to speak to it, when the other ugly thing frightened me so I ran away."

"Tell me how the ugly thing looked," said Mrs. Blackrat.

"Oh, he looked dreadful!" said Blackie, with a shudder. "He had the ugliest head, with a bill that pecked, and just two feet, with the sharpest claws, and he was all covered over with spotted feathers, and he had ugly wings, that went 'flap, flap,' at his sides; and when he saw me, why, be stretched out his great long neck and said, 'Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do! Kut, kut, kut, kut, kut, kut, kut, kut!' He made such a noise that it frightened me out of my senses, and I came running up the steps to you, and as I ran something bit my tail, and I know it must have been that ugly, crowing thing!"

"Oh, Blackie, Blackie, my dear little son!" said Mrs. Blackrat, "what a wonder that you ever came back to me alive! You poor little thing, you do not know a cat from a rooster! Don't you know the thing you saw and called ugly was your best friend, and really saved your life when he frightened you away by crowing? He was only a good old rooster, and would not even hurt a flea.

"But the other thing you saw, Blackie, and thought so beautiful,—why, that was the horrid gray cat you have heard me tell about; and cats are never friends to rats—they eat every one they lay their claws on; and it's a wonder he did not eat you just now, instead of the tip end of your tail. Blackie, Blackie, suppose you had never come back to me!"

Then Mackie nestled close to his mother's side, and promised never, never to play under the lumber pile again, although he would like to thank Mr. Rooster for saving his life.

"You see," said Mrs. Blackrat, "we cannot always tell our friends by their looks.  Come here, my son, and let me tie up the end of your beautiful tail."