Snooker, the Kitten-Cat.
The Pigmy Pirates. By Flo Lancester. 1920.
The King of the Pigmy Pirates sat over his breakfast, grumbling. He peeped in the porridge pot, then flung the cream jug at the cook.
“Who’s stolen my cream?” he shouted loudly, thumping the table so hard he smashed his best coffee-pot.
“I should say it was Snooker, the cat,” said the cook, bowing low. “He’s very fond of cream, always.”
“So am I!” shouted Hullaballoo. “Snooker, Snooker! Come out here and be punished. You’ve been snooking again!”
“Only a pot of cream. High Shoutiness,” said Snooker. “Just a tiny pot of cream for the little Kitten-Cat.”
Hullaballoo flung his crown at the kitten, who fled into a corner.
“Little king with the big voice—and nothing else,” he taunted. “The Pigmies have a secret!”
“Tell me,” roared the king.
“Secrets are to be whispered, and you can only shout,” smiled Snooker. “But I’ll tell if you’ll promise not to punish me for drinking your cream.”
“Tell me first, and perhaps I will,” the king answered.
Then the Kitten-Cat came and sat on the table, and whispered in his ear.
“The Pigmies are tired of your noisy voice,” he began. “And the Pirates have gone in one of the Sun-Fish Ships to bring two wonderful Oojahs home to live in this Palace instead of you.”
“And what should I be doing?” roared Hullaballoo.
“Maybe you’ll carry cream and shaving-water for the Great Oojah,” laughed Snooker, teasingly.
Hullaballoo became so enraged he chased Snooker wildly around the room, until at last the cat fled up the chimney, and scrambled right to the top.
And there poor Snooker sat for hours.
“A nice fix I’m in now,” he said. “I’ll never get down from here. It’s ninety-nine miles high, at least, and I’ve only got nine lives. I might die nineteen times falling down!”
At last he was spied by a Pigmy Pirate.
“Help, help!” he cried. “Snooker the Kitten-Cat is in danger!” The Pigmies came running up. When they saw Snooker perched on the chimney ninety-nine miles high they hurried away to find the biggest brown butterfly in Pigmie.
The butterfly flew up to the top of the tall chimney, and Snooker jumped on his back. Away they went, diving swiftly down.
“Why, there’s the Sun-Fish,” cried Snooker, “back from Oojah Land. Perhaps I’ll see the Oojahs!”
He leaned forward eagerly, but lost his balance. Giving a frightened cry, he tumbled off the butterfly’s back, and down he fell.
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