just like a cat."

"Sir!" cried Puss in Boots, loftily, "Do you mean to insinuate that I am
a sneak?"

"I didn't say so precisely," returned the dog. "But if you want me to, I
will." Then he added, in a taunting tone, "You are a sneak!"

Puss trembled with rage at this insult, and drew the little sword he
wore at his side.

"Prove it!" he cried, brandishing his blade.

"Didn't you sneak yourself and your master into a castle and fine
clothes that you had no right to?"

"Didn't you pretend to be dead once and frighten your poor mistress
nearly out of her wits? Take _that_, sir!" and he made a furious cut at
him.

But the dog dodged the weapon, and, with a cutlass suddenly pulled from
behind him, made a fierce blow at the cat. Puss leaped nimbly away, with
a scream of triumph and defiance. Then they set to with all their skill
and hate and cunning.

Presently Puss fell, apparently dead, and Sir John Hubbard, the victor,
was leaning on his cutlass, looking sorry, when suddenly Puss jumped up,
grasped his sword and made a savage lunge at the dog. "That was only one
of _my_ lives!" he screamed. "I have eight left. Cats have nine lives,
but you--you miserable dog--have only one."