The measures taken by King Kul to search for the children would have, by themselves, resulted in failure and a tragedy. Though of an estimable character he was not remarkable for handling difficult situations, especially those which for want of a better term we must call matters of police. His dominion had been peaceable so long that he had lost the knack of it; besides, his subjects, an amiable but rather muddle-headed offshoot of mediæval days, were of little assistance in the case, for no one could give information as to the road taken by the alleged old man with the ass and big baskets and bagpipes. The knights too—with the exception of Sir Giles, who had plenty of ginger in him (which is why he had secured the prettiest girl at court)--were rather lacking in practice owing to the decay of dragons, caitiffs, and other undesirable inhabitants, and they rather played at chivalrous doings than took any active interest in them. Consequently, though troops were sent searching in all directions, they went without definite instructions, and they merely wandered about, putting innocent people through severe cross-examinations, inspecting cock-lofts in lonely but peaceful farmhouses, and generally making themselves thoroughly disliked without obtaining any useful hints.
Sir Giles, however, had hit on an idea which had some reason at the back of it. The far western border of the land was some half-day’s ride away and the country beyond, though no one knew anything definite about it, had a very unsavoury reputation. It was generally considered to be the part where the dragons and caitiffs and others had gone during the past few centuries, and he considered it probable that Mother Meldrum and Golithos had selected it as a suitable spot for their future home; therefore he had taken his squire and ten picked men and gone there at full speed. The idea, as I have said, was on the whole a good one. The one reason against its being a successful one was that Mother Meldrum and Golithos had gone in the opposite direction.
While King Kul was discussing the situation and making suggestions, King Merse rushed off with Gorbo and collected his men, and Vanderdecken joined them with his immediately afterwards. But they, like the others, had little notion of which would be the best direction to take until Gorbo gave them a second shock by making a really practical suggestion.
While the men were formed up and waiting for orders, with King Merse and Vanderdecken at their wits’ end to know what orders to give, Gorbo suddenly ran off and peered between the legs of some citizens who formed a little crowd near the ancient Cloth Hall. The citizens were looking at a cat of exceeding bigness and blackness which was engaged with a bone. There were none present who had visited Mother Meldrum professionally so no one recognized this as one of her cats; they were merely wondering at its appearance, the cats of Banrive being as a rule small and either fawn colour or grey with stripes.
Gorbo acted with a promptness inspired by his grief and his knowledge that time was flying. He rushed to a fish stall and demanded a pound of sprats on the King’s affairs and a straw-bag to put them in. He returned and, pushing his way through the crowd, offered the animal a sprat. It took it with a fierce growl and ate it, and then looked up hopefully for more. Gorbo did not give it another yet but patted and stroked it instead, allowing it to sniff at the bag.
“Did ums old cats want um sprats?” he said soothingly. “Then um good old cats must work for um sprats.”
The animal, though evidently intelligent above its kind, could not of course wholly understand. It got easily as far as understanding that this small man (whom it remembered seeing before) was one who had control of fish in a bag, and he set up a roaring purr and rubbed hard against him in the hope that he would do the decent thing and give him another.
Gorbo held out another sprat and walked backwards towards his brother Snergs, the cat following.
“See!” he said to King Merse; “one of Mother Meldrum’s cats! Perhaps it can lead us to her.”
King Merse stared at him in wonder at his penetration. Vanderdecken smote Gorbo on the shoulder. “This man of yours is improving,” he said. “We can but try it.”
“We will,” said the King. “Go ahead, Gorbo, with your cat, and we will follow some way behind.”
The inhabitants were ordered to clear the road and Gorbo, after giving a third sprat for encouragement, walked towards the town-gate. The cat followed him, chewing and growling. On arriving at a clear space beyond the walls Gorbo urged it by gestures to take the road. After a few moments it looked about and sniffed the ground; went on a bit and sniffed again. Gorbo looked on anxiously.
“Home to mother then!” he said, holding up his bag. “Home to other old black cats.”
The animal turned and looked at him and then, giving a terrific wail, started off at a trot. Gorbo followed and the cat, merely stopping an instant to make sure that the bag of fish was coming close behind, went on down a narrow trail that led to some woods.
It went steadily on and Gorbo trotted steadily behind it. And a quarter of a mile or so behind them came the soft padding footsteps of the Snergs and the clumping of the Dutchmen’s sea-boots as they followed at the double.