ile her
ears disappeared in inverse ratio.

Nearer and nearer came the chunk of coal and the slouching little bear,
a touch of caution in each pretended careless action. Awful and more
awful grew Grimalkin's battle plaint--her eyes blazed demoniacally.

By some subtle assurance, we humans were made aware that, on the floor
of the wood shed, an imaginary deadline had been drawn by Mrs. Cat,
and, when Ursus Minor advanced so much as the length of a claw beyond
that in his orbit, an incident would mark his career. You may believe
me or not, but the little bear understood not only this much, but he
also knew where that line lay. Fully a minute he tantalised us by
coquetting with it. He would advance recklessly, and we would say to
ourselves, "Now!" when, lo! he would turn at the fatal point, to lie on
his side and amuse himself by clawing at the chunk of coal.

Suddenly he boldly stepped across. An instant of numbing silence fell.
A swish! A cat on a small bear's back. A scene impossible! A hairy
tornado, rolling, twisting, flopping, yelling, screeching, roaring, and
howling, tore, bit, scratched, clawed, and walloped all over the place.
An epileptic nebula; a maelstrom that revolved in every way known to
man at the same instant; a prodigy of tooth and claw. If that fight
were magnified a hundred times, a glimpse of it would kill; as it was,
myself and the clothing store boy clung weakly to the wall and wept.

The cat's tough hide easily turned the bear's claws, and his teeth were
too tiny to work mischief; while his thick, shaggy coat made pussy's
keener weapons ineffectual. As a consequence, the storm raged with
unbridled ferocity, the motion of the foemen being so swift none could
tell who was getting the better of it. There was energy in that small
action and a bitterness of sound altogether indescribable, the mews of
the astounded kittens quavering shrilly and loudly through the general
frenzy.

At length, in spite of his antagonist's agility, the bear managed to
get his "holt," and puss, wrapped in his strong arms, was practically
whipped; not without protest--she was a "last-ditch" warrior. The bear
settled back as grim and stolid as General Grant might have done, while
the chivalry of the wood shed applied her hind claws to his waistcoat.
However, the bear could do a little in this line himself. The effect
was that each tried unsuccessfully to walk up the other.

The "strangle hold" began to tell.