Without saying a word the King of the Cats jumped down from the tree. Old-fellow Badger was coming through the glade. When he saw the King of the Cats crouching there he stopped and bared his terrible teeth. The King of the Cats bent himself to spring. Then Old-fellow Badger turned round and went lumbering back. “Oh, by my claws and fur,” said Quick-to-Grab, “you are the real King of the Cats. Let me be your Councillor. Let me advise your Majesty in the times that will be so difficult for your subjects and yourself. Know that the Cats of Ireland are impoverished and oppressed. They are under a terrible tyranny.” “Who oppresses my vassals, retainers and subjects?” said the King of the Cats. “The Eagle-Emperor. He has made a law that no cat may leave a man’s house as long as the birds (he makes an exception in the case of owls) have any business abroad.” “I will tear him to pieces,” said the King of the Cats. “How can I reach him?” “No cat has thought of reaching him,” said Quick-to-Grab, “they only think of keeping out of his way. Now let me advise your Majesty. None of our enemies must know that you have come into this country. You must appear as a common cat.” “What, me?” said the King of the Cats. “Yes, your Majesty, for the sake of the deliverance of your subjects you will have to appear as a common cat.” “And be submissive and eat scraps?” “That will be only in the daytime,” said Quick-to-Grab, “in the night-time you will have your court and your feasts.” “At least, let the place I stay in be no hovel,” said the King of the Cats. “I shall refuse to go into a house where there are washing days--damp clothes before a fire and all that.” “I shall use my best diplomacy to safeguard your comfort and dignity,” said Quick-to-Grab, “please invest me as your Prime Minister.” The King of the Cats invested Quick-to-Grab by biting the fur round his neck. Then the King and his Prime Minister parted. The King of the Cats took up quarters for a day or two in a round tower. Quick-to-Grab made a journey through the country-side. He went into every house and whispered a word to every cat that was there, and whether the cat was watching a mouse-hole, or chasing crickets, or playing with kittens, when he or she heard that word they sat up and considered. III Early, early, next day the King of Ireland’s Son rode out in search of the blue falcon, but although he rode from the ring of day to the gathering of the dark clouds he saw no sign of it on rock or tree or in the air. Very wearily he rode back, and after his horse was stabled he stood with Art in the meadows watching the cattle being driven by. And Art, the King’s Steward, said: “The Coming of the King of the Cats into King Connal’s dominion is a story still to be told. To your father’s Son in all truth be it told”--