very curious-looking cat-eatables.

Rudolf and Ann had now their usual trouble with Peter who at first
absolutely refused to budge until he had tasted at least "one of
each". When at last he was made to understand that the trays around
which the cats were so greedily thronging contained nothing more
inviting than roasted rats and pickled fish fins, and that these
delicacies would probably not be offered to prisoners anyway, he
regretfully allowed himself to be pushed through a door at the side of
the hall and hurried off in the direction of the shore. Although the
children, followed closely by the two mates, had managed to slip away
almost unnoticed in the general excitement, yet they knew their escape
must soon be discovered and they ran as fast as ever they could go.

At last they reached the wharf and scrambled up the side of the _Merry
Mouser_, expecting each instant to receive some kind of challenge from
the two spotted cats on guard. Much to their surprise they received
none. This was soon explained, for the two common sailors were found
in the cabin, curled up in the Captain's bunk, fast asleep.

"A nice mess they'd be in if the Chief caught 'em!" cried Growler.

Prowler said nothing, but winked at his friend, and taking a piece of
strong string from his pocket, he bound the poor spotted cats' eight
paws all in a bunch together and left them to continue their nap. This
little matter attended to, all hands now turned their attention to
raising the sail, and by the time the advance-guard of cat pirates
came rushing down through the pussy-willow grove in their pursuit, the
_Merry Mouser_, borne along by a breeze that was something more than a
catspaw, was fast leaving the shores of Catnip Island behind her.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VIII

MUTINY ON BOARD

For some time the children leaned over the rail looking back at the
group of cats gathered at the water's edge. The form of the Pirate
Chief towered above them all as he ran up and down the beach yowling
out all sorts of commands to which was paid very little attention by
any one, and stopping every little while to flourish an angry paw in
the direction of the _Merry Mouser_.

Peter regarded him sadly. "Poor old Mitts," he sighed, "it was an
awful mean trick to play on him! He hasn't got any other boat and he
looks so mad, I b'lieve he'd swim after us if he could."

"He could, all right," said Prowler gravely, "but he'd get hi