Rama the Gypsy Cat
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Rama the cat has no home. He is the Gypsy Cat, and a life full of travel and adventure awaits him.
When a gypsy woman found Rama as a kitten, she pierced his ear with a golden earring and named him after an exiled prince who wandered for years, having many adventures. Rama the cat lives up to his namesake when he strays from the wagon that was his home, and begins his own thrilling journey, discovering dangers on the wharf, in the forest, and by the river, encountering new foes and friends. Will Rama ever return to his old life . . . and does he even want to? This ebook features an illustrated biography of Betsy Byars including rare images from the author’s personal collection.
crushed Antonio’s leg. Rama did not know, either, that the wagon was now repaired and that they would soon leave the forest. He only knew that it was good to walk through the shadows of the trees where he was part of the night and yet himself, alive and free. He heard the sound of the brook before he saw it, and he went directly to the place where there was a stone, high and dry, in the center of the stream. In one long, easy motion, he jumped, touched the stone, and landed silently on the other
came quickly, drawn by the sound that reminded him of the gypsy man. How often he had heard the sound of a creaking wagon! What pleasant memories it evoked! He followed the wagon even though the walking was more painful with each step. Two hours later the peddler arrived at his first house. “Hello—oo,” he called as he drove up to the cabin. He jumped down from his seat, and then, before he had a chance to greet the family who came out of the house, he noticed Rama behind the wagon. “I see you
had made them all eager to depart. They were lovers of the sun and the warm breezes. Unaided, the gypsy woman hitched her horse to the wagon, and then she sat on the seat of her wagon, pulling her shawl more carefully about her shoulders. Still chilled, she jumped quickly from her wagon and walked around to the back and entered. It would be a long day and already her shoulders felt tightened with the cold. She took her heaviest shawl from the bed—it also served as a blanket—and draped it over
bitten and torn, and the pain, as well as the fear, made Rama frantic. He saw the old cat enter the warehouse. Although he wished to hide himself, a low cry of fear and warning came from his throat, rising in the stillness. At once, slowly and evenly, the old cat began to move in Rama’s direction. He had tested Rama, and he knew his own strength was greater. At the edge of the box, when he could see Rama, he paused in a crouch, his claws open and ready. He opened his mouth, but the sound he made
old elm tree, and often he stayed on the lowest limb, stretched out like a small mountain lion, watching the movements of the forest. And always, if the hunting was bad, if the rabbits were too quick or the birds too wary, there was the cabin. Rama went there every morning, mewed long and loud, and then waited for the door to be opened. If he was hungry, he let the woman know by rubbing against her skirt, and she would give him meat or sometimes the thick cream he had come to relish. There was