The next morning she said nothing about the rat,
but went to a neighbour's and brought home a fine cat. I laughed in my
sleeve, thinking how little her cat could protect her from my rat.
Once more, however, she changed her quarters, and went into a sort of
inferior spare room in the upper part of the house, which suited my
operations still better, for from my own bed I could now manage to
drop and pull up the rat, drawing it away beyond the danger of
discovery. The next night she took the cat into the room with her, and
for that one I judged it prudent to leave her alone, but the next,
having secured Kirsty's cat, I turned him into the room after she was
in bed: the result was a frightful explosion of feline wrath.
I now thought I might boast of my successes to Turkey, but he was not
pleased.
"She is sure to find you out, Ranald," he said, "and then whatever
else we do will be a failure. Leave her alone till we have her quite."
I do not care to linger over this part of my story. I am a little
ashamed of it.
We found at length that her private reservoir was quite full of meal.
I kept close watch still, and finding one night that she was not in
the house, discovered also that the meal-tub was now empty. I ran to
Turkey, and together we hurried to Betty's cottage.
It was a cloudy night with glimpses of moonlight. When we reached the
place, we heard voices talking, and were satisfied that both the
Kelpie and Wandering Willie were there.
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