King of the Vagabonds by Colin Dann Page B

of the uncaught rabbits had disappeared.
    Pinkie and Brute had soon despatched their victims and were beginning to drag them away to cover. Sammy felt rather foolish at his failure, but he swallowed his pride and ambled toward the cats with a contrived air of nonchalance. Brute dropped his prey and sprang out at Sammy, lashing out with his claws. His right forepaw seared a path through Sammy’s face fur, narrowly missing one eye. It was a vicious scratch and the young tabby fell back in consternation. His face smarted acutely.
    ‘Don’t think to come begging to us,’ snarled his attacker.
    ‘I’d no such intention,’ Sammy protested. ‘But you didn’t wait to find out.’
    ‘I don’t believe in waiting,’ Brute rasped. ‘Waiting’s a fool’s game.’
    All this time Pinkie remained silent. She continued about her business of removing her quarry.
    ‘You’ll have to learn a better set of moves if you don’t mean to starve,’ Brute scoffed.
    ‘I shall,’ said Sammy. ‘Brindle is going to help me.’
    ‘Help?’ Brute echoed mockingly. ‘I think you’re mistaken.It’s each cat for himself here and devil take the hindmost. That’s our philosophy and you’d better adopt it, if you mean to live like us.’
    The other cats were beginning to gather around. Some had been lucky in the hunt – some had not. Sammy was conscious that Brindle was not amongst them.
    Now Pinkie spoke up. ‘Sammy is a fine-looking cat. But he’s not up to our tricks yet.’
    ‘No, nor will he be,’ grunted Brute. ‘Cats brought up in soft ways don’t make good hunters.’
    Sammy felt the uncomfortable truth of this. He went on the defensive. ‘When a cat’s forced to learn new ways, he must. Mustn’t he?’ he added hesitantly.
    ‘He must, mustn’t he?’ Brute mimicked him sarcastically. ‘Unless he starves himself first.’
    ‘I think he’ll look after himself all right,’ said Patch. ‘He can fight, anyway – we’ve seen that.’ He was not afraid of Brute.
    ‘I’ve seen nothing,’ Brute growled. Then he turned sharply to Sammy again. He was reminded of something. ‘I’m told you’ve decided your rich pet food is no longer on offer to the animals here.’ He spat the word ‘pet’. ‘By what authority?’
    Sunny answered for him. ‘He turned up his nose at what we offered in exchange. Said it was unfair.’
    ‘Is this correct?’ Brute snapped.
    ‘Yes,’ said Sammy. ‘You vagabonds took advantage of me.’
    Brute stared at him. ‘ We took advantage of you ?’ he whispered. ‘But you are the one with all the advantages, my soft friend.’ There was a menace in his words.
    ‘Not any more,’ returned Sammy stoutly. ‘I’ve left them all behind.’
    Pinkie chipped in. ‘Who eats your food now?’
    ‘There will be no food if I don’t return.’
    ‘And what of tonight?’ Brute rasped. ‘Is there good rich food going to waste?’
    ‘Mottle is on her way to eat it,’ Sunny said.
    ‘Then I’ll stop her,’ Sammy declared. He remembered his vow to Tiptoe, but said, ‘My old mistress must not be fooled any longer. The arrangement’s over.’
    ‘Is it now?’ Brute hissed. ‘Well, you’d better go and see about it then, hadn’t you?’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he rushed to the hole in the wire fence through which Sammy had passed, and lay across it. Sunny the ginger cat, who disliked Sammy, took up his station at another gap.
    ‘It seems your way out is blocked,’ Pinkie murmured. She was excited by the threat of a conflict and longed to see what Sammy would do.
    The young tabby was angry and determined Tiptoe should not be put at risk by a failure on his part. He looked at the towering wire fence. It was a daunting barrier but he knew he had to scale it. There was one thing in his favour. An elder tree grew close on the other side. If he could pull himself up to the top of the fence, he could jump from there on to the top branches of the elder and so climb down that