Skratch the Cat was out for a prowl. It was a dull day and he thought he'd take a turn down by the castle. He was in the delicate process of cat contemplation when he noticed something happening - down by the drawbridge. Two figures, who looked suspiciously like Agents of Rabit, were engaged in conversation. Skratch looked the other way - but he continued to watch them nonetheless. His ears pricked up and swivelled round. In this way he could hear everything and evade attention. He watched the first enemy agent hand the second a bundle of sticks of dynamite. He heard him whisper "Don't drop it!" The second immediately did just that. The first snatched it away before it hit the ground. "You clumsy toad. I told you not to drop it." The second was aghast. "I thought you said 'swap' it." The first agent slapped a paw to his forehead. "What on earth did you think I'd swap it for?" The second agent cringed back. "I thought they were cigars." Skratch was trying not to laugh and he sniggered lightly. "There's a cat over there," exclaimed an agent. "Probably he's cold," said the other. "How can you tell?" said the first. "He's got his coat on," said the other. They carried on chattering. Skratch thought he'd slope off to find the Wabbit but changed his mind halfway. "I think I can deal with this," he murmured. He dropped low and padded round the fence until he came to the drawbridge. They didn't notice a thing. Skratch climbed up to the gatehouse, looked all round and poised for a second. Then with fistfuls of razor sharp claws and letting out a vicious cry, he sprang ...
