The kitten went back to the empty saucer, and sniffed at it, then with a funny little hop and jump, it came back and rubbed, purring, against the old man’s leg, but it kept a sharp watch on the big dog.

“We’ll call it Hippity-Hop,” decided Captain Smith, and as neither the kitten nor Jan suggested a better name, that settled it.

Hippity-Hop was really quite a nice little kitten, even if she did not have as many legs as most cats have.  Her fur was dark grey, a white breast and ring around her neck looked as though she had put on a clean shirt and collar, while every one of her three paws was snow-white, like nice white gloves.  She spent a great deal of her time washing her fur with her tongue.

For many days Hippity-Hop was afraid of Jan, who was big enough to swallow her at one gulp; but when she learned that he stood back and let her eat first from his dish, although she had just cleaned her own plate, she lost her fear and grew to love him.  Each night after supper she crawled between his paws and went to sleep, while he lay very still, that he might not waken his little friend.

Jan was very sure that Hippity-Hop was the nicest little kitten in the world, after she had learned one thing: 

When first she went to live with the captain and Jan and had seen Cheepsie walking around on the floor, Hippity-Hop’s green eyes glistened.  Then her claws reached out from the fur that hid them and her tail twitched and jerked as she crouched to spring on the little yellow bird that was paying no attention to the kitten.  But, just as she was ready to jump, there was a terrible roar behind her and she was grabbed by Jan’s big jaws.

Hippity-Hop gave a yowl of fear, and twisted to scratch Jan’s eyes, but he gripped her firmly, though his teeth did not hurt her.  Captain Smith, hearing the commotion ran into the room and understood at once what had happened.  He took the kitten from Jan, and though Hippity-Hop spit and scratched and yowled, the old man dipped her several times in a tub of water.  Cats hate water, and Hippity-Hop hated water more than most cats, for it made her think of the time she had been almost drowned in the ocean.

“You’ve got to learn to be kind to Cheepsie, or else you can’t live here with us,” the old man said as he set the kitten on the porch floor.

The kitten began to lick her wet fur, but she was badly frightened and very sure that if Jan did not eat her up, the captain would put her back in the ocean again.  So she resolved never to bother Cheepsie after that one time.

The bird seemed to understand, too, for it was not long after this that Hippity-Hop, Jan and Cheepsie ate out of the same dish.  At times the bird would perch on the dog’s head and sing to them all.  Jan always sat as still as he could, until the song ended and Cheepsie had flown over to the captain’s shoulder.  Often the old man took his violin from the corner, and as he played he whistled or sang in a quavering voice, Jan’s tail beat time on the floor, Hippity-Hop joined with a song of her own, though it was only a loud purr, while Cheepsie, perched on their loved master’s shoulder, sang and trilled as loudly as he could, trying to make more music than the bird that lived in the violin.