No, my friends. Leopard had undoubtedly expected things to be in terrible shape. Of course, there was no reason to expect anything good: when the Fighting Cats are thrown in to stop a gap, then everyone knows that things are shitty. But still! Leopard was turning white with anger.
Finally this commander of theirs showed up. He made his way between the houses, buttoning his jacket as he came: a tall, half-asleep bean pole with gray sideburns. At least fifty years old. Red nosed, covered with veins. Wearing a worn-out pince-nez, the kind staff officers wore in the last war. His broad chin was flecked with wet bits of chewing tobacco. He introduced himself as a staff major and tried to talk to Leopard on equal footing. That was a mistake! Leopard let him have such an icy treatment that he se
