“Mother always said,” Thelma remarked,
thoughtfully, “that if you found the right kind
of Hands, you’d never have to hunt again. But
if you found the wrong kind, it would be worse
than dogs, she said,”
“I think this one is the right kind,” said
Harriet.
“What makes you think so?” Roger
asked, sounding like their mother.
“Because it ran off and came back with a
plate full of dinner,” Harriet said. “And it put
the dinner down on that big stump at the edge
of the field, the field where we scared the cows
that day, you know. And then it went off quite a
way, and sat down, and just watched me. So I
flew over and ate the dinner. It was an
interesting dinner. Like what we used to get in
the alley, but fresher. And,” said Harriet,
sounding like their mother, “I’m going back
there tomorrow and see what’s on that stump.”
“You just be careful, Harriet Tabby!” said
Thelma, sounding even more like their
mother.
CHAPTER 4
THE NEXT DAY
, when Harriet went
to the big stump at the edge of the cow pasture,
flying low and cautiously, she found a tin
pie-plate of meat scraps and kibbled catfood
waiting for her. The girl from Overhill Farm
was also waiting for her, sitting about twenty
feet away from the stump, and holding very
still. Susan Brown was her name, and she
was eight years old. She watched Harriet
fly out of the woods and hover like a fat
hummingbird over the stump, then settle
down, fold her wings neatly, and eat. Susan
Brown held her breath. Her eyes grew round.
The next day, when Harriet and Roger
flew cautiously out of the woods and hovered
over the stump, Susan was sitting about
fifteen feet away, and beside her sat her
twelve-year-old brother Hank. He had not
believed a word she said about flying cats. Now
his eyes were perfectly round, and he was
holding his breath.
Harriet and Roger settled down to eat.
“You didn’t say there were two of them,”
Hank whispered to his sister.
Harriet and Roger sat on the stump
licking their whiskers clean.
“You didn’t say there were two of them,”
Roger whispered to his sister.
“I didn’t know!” both the sisters whis-
pered back. “There was only one, yesterday.
But they look nice
—
don’t they?”
THE NEXT DAY
, Hank and Susan put
out two pie-tins of cat dinner on the stump,
then went ten steps away, sat down in the grass,
and waited.
[42]
Harriet flew boldly from the woods and
alighted on the stump. Roger followed her.
Then
—
“Oh, look!” Susan whispered
—
came
Thelma, flying very slowly, with a disapproving
expression on her face. And finally
—
“Oh,
look, look!” Susan whispered
—
James, flying
low and lame, flapped over to the stump,
landed on it, and began to eat. He ate, and ate,
and ate. He even growled once at Thelma,
The two children watched the four
winged cats.
Harriet, quite full, washed her face, and
watched the children.
Thelma finished a last tasty kibble, washed
her left front paw and gazed at the children.
Suddenly she flew up from the stump and
straight at them. They ducked as she went
over. She flew right round both their heads and
then back to the stump.
“Testing,”she said to Harriet, James, and
Roger.
“If she does it again, don’t catch her,”
Hank said to Susan. “It’d scare her off.”
“You think I’m stupid?” Susan hissed.
They sat still. The cats sat still. Cows ate
grass nearby. The sun shone.
“Kitty,” Susan said in a soft, high voice.
“Kitty kit-kit-kit-kit-kit-cat, kitty-cat, kitty-
wings, kittywings, catwings!”
Harriet jumped off the stump into the air,
performed a cartwheel, and flew loop-the-loop
over to Susan. She landed on Susan’s shoulder
and sat there, holding on tight and purring in
Susan’s ear.
“I will never never never ever catch you, or
cage you, or do anything to you you don’t want
me to do,” Susan said to Harriet. “I promise.
Hank, you promise too.”
“Purr,” said Harriet.
“I promise. And we’ll never ever tell
anybody else,” Hank said, rather fiercely.
“Ever! Because
—
you know how people are. If
people saw them
—
”
“I promise,” Susan said. She and Hank
shook hands, promising.
Roger flew gracefully over and landed on
Hank’s shoulder.
“Purr,” said Roger.
“They could live in the old barn,” Susan
said. “Nobody ever goes there but us. There’s
that dovecote up in the loft, with all those holes
in the wall where the doves flew in and out.”
“We can take hay up there and make
them a place to sleep,” Hank said.
“Purr,” said Roger.
Very softly and gently Hank raised his
hand and stroked Roger right between the
wings.
“Oooh,” said James, watching. He
jumped down off the stump and came
trotting over to the children. He sat down
near Susan’s shoes. Very softly and gently
Susan reached down and scratched James
under the chin and behind the ears.
“Purr,” James said, and drooled a little on
Susan’s shoe.
“Oh, well!” said Thelma, having cleaned
up the last of the cold roast beef. She arose in
the air, flew over with great dignity, sat right
down in Hank’s lap, folded her wings, and said,
“Purr, purr, purr . . .”
“Oh, Hank,” Susan whispered, “their
wings are furry.”
“Oh, James,” Harriet whispered, “their
hands are kind.”
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