So fierce was that scowl of his, so sharp and white the teeth he
flashed at them, so round and terrible his gleaming yellow eyes that
not a cat dared object, though the faces of all plainly showed their
anger and disappointment at this unfair division of the spoils.

"Now, what's in _there_," demanded Mittens, as he gave a contemptuous
kick to the False Hare's dress-suit case. Growler opened it and took
out a dozen paper collars, a little pair of pink paper pajamas, and a
small black bottle labeled "Hare Restorer."

"All of 'em worth about two cents retail," snorted Mittens with a
bitter look at the False Hare. "And that umbrella, I see, is not made
to go up! Huh! Drowning's too good for _you_!"

"I feel so myself, sir," said the False Hare humbly. "You see," he
added, wiping away a tear with the back of his paw, "I'm so _fond_ of
the water!"

Mittens thought a moment, keeping his eye firmly fastened on the Hare.
"I'll fix you," he cried, "I'll tie you up in one of those bags!"

The False Hare put his paw behind his ear. "Bags?" said he. "Excuse
me, sir, but did you say bags?"

"Yes, I did," roared the Pirate Chief. "Bags! Bags! Bags!"

"Oh, _thank_ you!" cried the False Hare cheerily. "Just my favorite
resting-place--a nice snug bag. Mind you have them draw the string
_tight_, won't you?"