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Both Tod and Peter went twice a week to the riding school in the town, as they were both destined for cavalry. Every underling about the place knew them well, and liked them. Their father had lived in the town during his last leave, jobbed his horses at the riding-master’s stables, and had himself assisted at the lessons of elder brothers of Tod and Peter.

Now there was at the school a certain Figgins, a generally handy man, or rather boy, who worshipped the ground the twins walked upon; and after their next lesson they and Figgins might have been seen holding long and earnest parley in the loose-box containing the cat and kittens.

The twins laughed uproariously all the way home, and just as they reached the house, Peter remarked: “I hate anything dead. Figgins has promised not one of ’em shall be drowned, and when they’re fit to be moved, he’ll tell old White he’s found good homes for the lot. And then—and then Tod, my boy! our dear teacher shall have ’em alive, ‘alive, all alive oh! alive, all alive oh!’” and Peter burst into song in the exuberance of his joy.