Imagine my dismay to find Tarbrush’s loose-box empty! So, too, were the other boxes in the same building. The place was absolutely deserted and deathly still. Feeling more lonely and miserable than ever, I turned uncertainly. I did not know where to go or what to do next; then I remembered that there was one other place where Jack had sometimes taken me—an old and long-disused stable at the far end of the yard, where his sister Mabel kept her hutches of tame rabbits. The place was large and cool and dark. The windows had long ago been boarded up, and the back was shaded by thick shrubbery, through which the early sun had not yet pierced. I moved just inside the door, and sat up, listening keenly. But all that I could hear was the munch, munch of the rabbits’ teeth as they ate their breakfast of crisp leaves and roots. There was no human in the place. At that moment a new sound broke upon my ear, a slight rustling, brushing noise. Then, before I could even turn, a large tabby cat came round the corner of the doorway. It was my old enemy, the same who had so nearly caught me in Jack’s bedroom. She was walking very slowly, rubbing her arched back against the wall as she went, and, terrified as I was, I had sense enough to see that she had not yet noticed me. I did the only thing I could—crouched down close against the wall and remained there still as a hare in her forme, hardly even breathing. For a moment I fancied that she would pass on. But I had forgotten her keen sense of smell. Suddenly she threw her head up and began snuffing the air; then with one quick bound leaped inside the doorway, and stood there perfectly still glaring about her with great, round green eyes. I did not wait, but ran for dear life. As I started so did she, and to the best of my belief she jumped clean over me. I certainly felt the wind of her paw as she struck at my head. In the old stable the mangers and racks were still in place and the ruinous remains of the partitions of the stalls. More by good luck than anything else, I chanced upon a worm-eaten oak post at the end of one partition and bolted up it. It led straight up through a gap in the ceiling, and I thought I was safe. I was sadly mistaken. This cat was almost as good a climber as I, and up she came at my very brush. Scuttling up the wall of the loft, I reached a cross rafter, not twice my own length ahead of my hunter. The cat was not quite so quick in getting on to the rafter as I was, and that gave me a short start. A patch of sunlight came through a glassless window under the gable at the far end, and instinctively I made for this, jumping frantically from rafter to rafter. There was no time for plans. It was just one wild dash for any chance of safety.