doesn’t they will be rivals and even enemies. But I know it’s no use warning you. You didn’t listen before, nor did I really expect you to. And you won’t listen now. Just remember, though, that where you’re going we’ll be unable to help you. You’ll have to rely on yourself alone.’
‘I mean to do so,’ Sammy told her. ‘I’m not frightened of that. What is there for me here? An endless round of uneventful days filled with the same routine. No new faces, no needs to cater for.’
‘Yes,’ said Stella, ‘that’s not enough for a son of Beau. I know and I’ve always known. You’re part of him and,when you meet, you might find you have too much in common.’
Sammy reflected on that, but he was not yet equipped to interpret the remark. He began to wash himself. The conversation was at an end. It was strange for him as he settled himself, tucking his paws under his chest, to think that this was the last time he would lie here, in his birthplace.
High up in one of the wooden struts of the shed, Tiptoe was waiting. These days he stayed well out of reach and spent as little time as possible on the ground. And he was tiring of it. That was why he was waiting until it would be safe to talk to Sammy.
Stella and Josephine were curled up together as usual. Sammy also was napping but he heard Tiptoe’s squeaks. At first he could not see him.
‘I’m above your head,’ said the mouse. ‘I’m spending my life up in the air. I feel if I can’t come down to earth more often, I might change into a bird!’
‘Whatever are you babbling about?’ Sammy hissed.
‘Those wild animals you’ve invited on to my doorstep! How long must we mice live like this? Food’s hard to come by at these heights.’
Sammy understood and was more amused than contrite. But he did not let the mouse see this. ‘Your worries are over, Tiptoe,’ he assured the little animal. ‘There will be no more strangers coming into the garden.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘The arrangement about the food is over,’ Sammy said. ‘I’m leaving this place for good.’
‘Oh,’ said Tiptoe. ‘I wasn’t expecting that. Where are you going?’
‘To a new area,’ the young tabby answered. He was not going to admit to Quartermile Field.
But the mouse was no fool. He guessed at once whereSammy was heading. ‘So you’re going to join the creatures who’ve been thieving your mistress’s food?’ he squeaked in indignation. ‘I’ve seen them, one by one. Black and ginger and white.’
‘White?’
‘A white one came tonight and then climbed up the tree,’ shrilled the mouse. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’ve encouraged them.’
Sammy had the answer now. It was Pinkie who had taken advantage of himself and Brindle while they had been squabbling. This was the way of things in the vagabond world. He turned back to Tiptoe.
‘You’re a fine one to talk about thieving,’ he chuckled. ‘You and your friends spend your whole lives doing it.’
‘Of course we do,’ said Tiptoe. ‘Tee hee.’ He saw the funny side of it too. ‘But what we take isn’t missed and, in any case, it’s expected of us.’ He tittered again. Then he said, more soberly, ‘I suppose our paths won’t cross for a while?’
‘I suppose not,’ Sammy replied, ‘though I should be sorry not to see you again. You’re a comical little fellow and I like you a lot. Perhaps we could meet—’
‘No,’ Tiptoe interrupted firmly. ‘We couldn’t. I don’t travel to those regions.’
‘I understand.’
‘But I think you’ll be back one day, despite what you say,’ the mouse said firmly. ‘I’m sure you’re not cut out to mingle with those cat tramps.’
‘Everyone thinks that,’ Sammy said blithely. ‘I don’t care. I shall prove you wrong.’
‘Maybe. But Sammy, will you give me your word? I have to know that it’s safe for me to come to ground.’
‘I’ll make sure it is; don’t worry. No animal will come here if
‘I mean to do so,’ Sammy told her. ‘I’m not frightened of that. What is there for me here? An endless round of uneventful days filled with the same routine. No new faces, no needs to cater for.’
‘Yes,’ said Stella, ‘that’s not enough for a son of Beau. I know and I’ve always known. You’re part of him and,when you meet, you might find you have too much in common.’
Sammy reflected on that, but he was not yet equipped to interpret the remark. He began to wash himself. The conversation was at an end. It was strange for him as he settled himself, tucking his paws under his chest, to think that this was the last time he would lie here, in his birthplace.
High up in one of the wooden struts of the shed, Tiptoe was waiting. These days he stayed well out of reach and spent as little time as possible on the ground. And he was tiring of it. That was why he was waiting until it would be safe to talk to Sammy.
Stella and Josephine were curled up together as usual. Sammy also was napping but he heard Tiptoe’s squeaks. At first he could not see him.
‘I’m above your head,’ said the mouse. ‘I’m spending my life up in the air. I feel if I can’t come down to earth more often, I might change into a bird!’
‘Whatever are you babbling about?’ Sammy hissed.
‘Those wild animals you’ve invited on to my doorstep! How long must we mice live like this? Food’s hard to come by at these heights.’
Sammy understood and was more amused than contrite. But he did not let the mouse see this. ‘Your worries are over, Tiptoe,’ he assured the little animal. ‘There will be no more strangers coming into the garden.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘The arrangement about the food is over,’ Sammy said. ‘I’m leaving this place for good.’
‘Oh,’ said Tiptoe. ‘I wasn’t expecting that. Where are you going?’
‘To a new area,’ the young tabby answered. He was not going to admit to Quartermile Field.
But the mouse was no fool. He guessed at once whereSammy was heading. ‘So you’re going to join the creatures who’ve been thieving your mistress’s food?’ he squeaked in indignation. ‘I’ve seen them, one by one. Black and ginger and white.’
‘White?’
‘A white one came tonight and then climbed up the tree,’ shrilled the mouse. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’ve encouraged them.’
Sammy had the answer now. It was Pinkie who had taken advantage of himself and Brindle while they had been squabbling. This was the way of things in the vagabond world. He turned back to Tiptoe.
‘You’re a fine one to talk about thieving,’ he chuckled. ‘You and your friends spend your whole lives doing it.’
‘Of course we do,’ said Tiptoe. ‘Tee hee.’ He saw the funny side of it too. ‘But what we take isn’t missed and, in any case, it’s expected of us.’ He tittered again. Then he said, more soberly, ‘I suppose our paths won’t cross for a while?’
‘I suppose not,’ Sammy replied, ‘though I should be sorry not to see you again. You’re a comical little fellow and I like you a lot. Perhaps we could meet—’
‘No,’ Tiptoe interrupted firmly. ‘We couldn’t. I don’t travel to those regions.’
‘I understand.’
‘But I think you’ll be back one day, despite what you say,’ the mouse said firmly. ‘I’m sure you’re not cut out to mingle with those cat tramps.’
‘Everyone thinks that,’ Sammy said blithely. ‘I don’t care. I shall prove you wrong.’
‘Maybe. But Sammy, will you give me your word? I have to know that it’s safe for me to come to ground.’
‘I’ll make sure it is; don’t worry. No animal will come here if
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