THE SIAMESE CAT
of stretched concertinas holding glow-worm fire. Evening gossips, squat on their haunches along the curb, broke into ripples of laughter, as the red-faced young European panted by, hot and scowling, at the heels of a worthless cat. The laughter rose to a cackle when Owen, gaining, stooped and snatched, to miss by a hand's-breadth, while Chao Phya again hoisted tail and loped away in terror.
The chase spread merriment thus for a furlong or two, the cat loitering and spurting with diabolic humour. Even British blue-jackets, racing their rickshaws against each other, cheering, and flogging the coolies with their canvas hats, found time to grin, wave passing encouragement, or shout satirical advice: "Stern chase, guvnor!" … "Ooray!" … "Salt on 'er tail!" … "Stole away!" … "Well run, puss!"
Chao Phya led by some thirty yards. But
[ 180 ]
