Bear; for those who saw it maintain stoutly that Grumpy not only
stopped, but she also conformed to the custom of the country and in
token of surrender held up her hands.

However, the position she thus took made her so high that the Cat seemed
tiny in the distance below. Old Grumpy had faced a Grizzly once, and was
she now to be held up by a miserable little spike-tailed skunk no bigger
than a mouthful? She was ashamed of herself, especially when a wail from
Johnny smote on her ear and reminded her of her plain duty, as well as
supplied his usual moral support.

So she dropped down on her front feet to proceed.

Again the Cat shrieked, "STOP!" But Grumpy ignored the command. A scared
mew from a kitten nerved the Cat, and she launched her ultimatum, which
ultimatum was herself. Eighteen sharp claws, a mouthful of keen teeth,
had Pussy, and she worked them all with a desperate will when she landed
on Grumpy's bare, bald, sensitive nose, just the spot of all where the
Bear cold not stand it, and then worked backward to a point outside the
sweep of Grumpy's claws. After one or two vain attempts to shake the
spotted fury off, old Grumpy did just as most creatures would have done
under the circumstances: she turned tail and bolted out of the enemy's
country into her own woods.

But Puss's fighting blood was up. She was not content with repelling the
enemy; she wanted to inflict a crushing defeat, to achieve an absolute
and final rout. And however fast old Grumpy might go, it did not count,
for the Cat was still on top, working her teeth and claws like a little
demon. Grumpy, always erratic, now became panic-stricken. The trail of
the pair was flecked with tufts of long black hair, and there was even