Japan -- History -- Meiji period, 1868-1912 -- Fiction
Looking sternly at the offender, her lips rounded into a long-drawn
"s-o," the light of anticipated revenge danced in her eyes. At last
she knew what to do, O most honorable but very ugly cat! She would
throw her into the ditch, where great crawling frogs with popping eyes
would stick out long tongues; where flying things would sting, and
creeping things would bite; where the great tide would come later and
take her out to the big, big ocean, where there was neither milk to
drink nor birds to eat.
At the thought of her furry playmate floating alone and hungry in the
vast place which, to Yuki Chan, had neither beginning nor end,
something of pity touched her heart, and she slightly loosened her
grasp.
The cat gained a good breath and used it. In the fight for freedom a
sharp claw was drawn down the child's arm, leaving a line of red in
its course. Compassion took flight, and Yuki Chan, clutching anew,
went swiftly down the path that led to the street, with a watchful eye
on the lodge of the keeper of the gate.
The keeper was very old, and very cross, and lately had acquired a
curious idea that little girls must ask his honorable permission to go
in and out the gate. One day he actually threatened punishment, and
Yuki Chan, in her scorn, invited him to cut off his head with a sword,
that he might save his face. Now the way was clear.
She turned her head and bumped her small body against the weight of
the heavy gates until they swung slightly apart and permitted her to
slip through.
So intent was her purpose to reach the ditch across the street that
she did not see an approaching jinrikisha, and before she knew it she
had been tumbled over and sent rolling to the side of the road. Still
clutching the kitten, she sat up and rubbed the dust from her eyes.
Standing over her was the jinrikisha man, and beside him was his
passenger, a young American boy, whose light hair and blue eyes held
her spell-bound. He was brushing the dust from her kimono, and his
foreign tongue made strange sounds.
"Say, kid," the boy was saying, as he transferred the dust from his
hands to his handkerchief, "glad you're not hurt or got any bones
cracked. Where's your mama, or your papa, or your nurse, to give you a
spanking and keep you off the street?"
As he talked Yuki Chan grew fascinated watching his mouth, and forgot,
for a moment, her direful intention. The cat, again taking advantage
of her relaxed hold, began to tug for freedom, and a lively struggle
ensued.
The boy, looking on, began to laugh, a laugh that began in his eyes,
ran over his face and down into his throat, whence it came again in a
shout of boyish merriment.
Yuki Chan, looking from him to the smiling jinrikisha man, grew
crimson with anger. With a swift movement she ran toward the ditch.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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