Over garden fences he could see green, succulent box-hedges and one day, when he found a gate open, he trotted boldly in to get a taste! Scarcely had he begun to nibble when a dog dashed round the corner of the house, a boy at his heels. When the latter caught sight of the intruder he gave a whoop and urged the dog to nip at True’s feet. The colt, startled, made a quick movement of self-protection with his hard little heels and struck the dog on the head, effectually silencing his bark and rolling him over in the dirt. A rock hit the colt’s side, but he did not tarry; excitedly, he plunged out of the open gate and raced down the road after his mother, now full half mile away. The odor of box was ever after associated, disagreeably, with boys and dogs in his mind. When he related the incident to his friend, Caesar, the yellow stable cat, the latter purred conviction and confided that for untold generations dogs had been the sworn enemies of his family. “It _may_ be possible for a boy, occasionally, to be polite and gentle; I do not know,” mewed the cat. “But as for dogs! Well, you must unsheath your claws and arch your back on sight!” Caesar was an independent cat of wide experience and had travelled and lived in many barns; his opinion, therefore, had weight with True. One day, whilst rubbing against the colt’s leg, in his affectionate way, he remarked that if it had not been for Gipsey and True he would long since have returned to his last barn-home, where the mice had a sweeter flavor on account of a careless housewife who often left her cheese-box open. “Besides,” he added, strutting about and waving his tail with careless dignity, “there is a very nice tortoiseshell pussy waiting there for me!” “But, do you know the way back?” asked True, interested and not failing to admire, and be duly impressed, by Caesar’s swagger and importance. “I know the way back well enough,” the cat bragged; but added with disgust, “In very truth, the jade who put me in the bag forgot to shake the dust out of it; but such a trifle could not blind _me_!” A very happy playground was the Whitman barnyard. Beside the horses there were two little red-and-white calves who romped in a way that entertained but almost drove Caesar crazy. Before them he would flee, round and round, instead of getting out of their way at once! A curly-tailed, twinkling-eyed pig, very fat and funny, shared their life for a time; but one day he disappeared, noisily, and never returned. In those days the memory of the British was fresh in the minds of all; the War of the Revolution had been over but a short eight years and the name “Red-Coat” still had an ominous sound. Gipsey, being an American mother, taught her son to hate the British and told him war-tales that made him quiver with patriotism.