Basil and the Pygmy Cats
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By Eve Titus
Illustrated by Paul Galdone

(c) 1971 by Eve Titus and Paul Galdone

9
The Inscription on the Cliff
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At noon we neared the uninhabited isle. Captain Black and his crew remained aboard--the rest of us rowed ashore.

Climbing the front face of the cliff, where nothing grew, was impossible. Instead, we climbed a gently sloping path at the back of the cliff.

At last we reached the top. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. High above our heads Elyod's great stone face stared out to sea. Being no bigger than his nose, we felt like midgets!

The inscription went far down the face of the cliff, and I asked Basil how he would read it.

"You'll know tomorrow," he replied. "It's almost dark--let's build a campfire and eat."

Cheese was the starring attraction, not only as food, but as food for thought. That night we shared the cheeses of many nations.

"Behold!" said Starretti. "My music-loving Italian mice sculptured a Provolone cheese, just for me!"

And he unwrapped a cheese shaped like a harp!

After admiring the work of art, we soon disposed of it. The harp strings were most delicious!

Young Richard had Anatolian cheese from Turkey, Cherbou had brought superb Roquefort from France, and Tillary had tangy Bushman cheese, all the way from Australia.

I passed around my Edam, which came from Holland, and told everyone that it was also called Katzenkopf, or Cat's Head Cheese.

"What's in a name?" asked Lord Adrian. Then he shared his Stilton cheese, remarking, "A bridal cheese made for Queen Victoria weighed more than a thousand pounds!"

"A gift fit for a mouse queen!" said Basil. "In Holland, cats are used to patrol cheese storage caves, because of mice. But the Dutch people never throw away a cheese gnawed by mice--they class it as superior!"

Proudly we snuggled into our sleeping bags, and my last thought was--those clever Dutch people!

Early next morning Basil revealed his plan.

"In 1835 an Englishman, Henry Rawlinson, arranged to be lowered from a clifftop in order to copy the Darius inscriptions. I shall do the same."

We were horrified. "Don't do it," I begged. "You could be dashed to death on the rocks below!"

"Is there no other way?" implored Dr. Wolff. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes himself would mourn your passing."

"It must be done," said Basil, "if we are to find the second clue. But it's better to be safe than sorry. Hollow out half a coconut shell and nail ropes to it. Instead of dangling from a rope, I'll sit in the shell while I copy the inscription."

The coconut was tough, but our axes did the job.

Basil seated himself, and we lowered away. At his cry of "Halt" we tied the rope ends securely to tree trunks.

Then we waited--forever, it seemed. Now and then we heard him call, "A bit lower!" and we obeyed.

Time dragged. I peered down. The heroic mouse



sat on his perilous perch, calmly taking notes. Yet at any moment a gust of wind or a belligerent bird could send him spinning downward to his doom.

I trembled and did not look again. Instead, I breathed silent prayers for his safety.



At last came the welcome cry, "Hoist me up!" and we did so, with thanksgiving in our hearts.

Waving his notebook, Basil stepped out of the coconut shell. "The inscription is in ancient Euphorian, a dead language no longer spoken. Fortunately, I wrote a monograph last year on ancient tongues, including the Euphorian, so I'll translate from my notes. Silence, please--it's difficult work."

Pen in paw, he bent over his notebook, oblivious to everything but the task he had set himself.

An hour later he looked up. "The second clue is here--we are three days' sail from the Island of the Pygmy Cats. But before we leave this cliff, I'd like to read the inscription aloud."

As we listened, the long-dead mouse king came alive again in all his glory:

I, ELYOD OF EUPHORIA, DECREED THAT ON THIS CLIFF MY WORDS BE CARVED. KNOW YE THAT I PERISHED NOT AT SEA. THERE CAME A STORM, A WILD AND WILLFUL THING! IT WRECKED OUR SHIP BUT SPARED OUR LIVES, CASTING US ASHORE TO BUILD OUR LIVES ANEW.

UPON THE ISLE WERE PYGMY CATS AS SMALL AS MICE, DWELLING IN CAVES, WORSHIPPING MANY GODS AND GODDESSES. WE WORSHIP ONLY ONE, THE GODDESS ELOTANA. THE CAVECATS MARVELED AT OUR ARTS AND LEARNING. ERE LONG, THEY BEGGED THAT I BECOME THEIR KING.

I, ELYOD OF EUPHORIA, REIGN OVER MICE AND PYGMY CATS, ALL EQUAL IN MY EYES, UPON AN ISLE BUT THREE DAYS' SAIL FROM HERE.

YE WHO READ THESE WORDS--TOUCH NOT, SPOIL NOT THESE WRITINGS HEWN IN ROCK! MY DEEDS MUST BE REMEMBERED FOR ETERNITY.

As Basil's voice died away, we bowed our heads in silent homage to King Elyod.

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