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 venture out at all in these troubled times; for, between her fear of Graywhisker and the cats, times were hard indeed.

Old Graywhisker felt that his case was becoming desperate. He sat in his house and looked around on his once well-filled larder. Not a crust, or rind of cheese or pork, was left. His last crumb was gone, and where was he to get more? It was now several days since he had dared venture out, and it was evident the cats were bent on his destruction, for there was now never a time when one of them was not about. He knew he must make a bold move and try to escape from the cats or else die of starvation.

"You'll never catch Graywhisker there," said the barn-cat to the house-cat, who was watching the hole outside the barn. "He comes out by half a dozen different ways."

"Then why don't you catch him yourself? If you know so much better than