southward--Dogs, boys, Roarers, hunger--Dogs, boys, Roarers,
hunger--yet on and onward still she went, and her nose from time
to time cheered her by confidently reporting, "There surely is a
smell we passed last spring."


X

So a week went by, and Pussy, dirty, ribbon-less, foot-sore, and
weary, arrived at the Harlem Bridge. Though it was enveloped in
delicious smells, she did not like the look of that bridge. For
half the night she wandered up and down the shore without
discovering any other means of going south, excepting some other
bridges, or anything of interest except that here the men were as
dangerous as the boys. Somehow she had to come back to it; not
only its smells were familiar, but from time to time, when a
One-eye ran over it, there was that peculiar rumbling roar that
was a sensation in the springtime trip. The calm of the late
night was abroad when she leaped to the timber stringer and
glided out over the water. She had got less than a third of the
way across when a thundering One-eye came roaring at her from the
opposite end. She was much frightened, but knowing their
stupidity and blindness, she dropped to a low side beam and there
crouched in hiding. Of course the stupid Monster missed her and
passed on, and all would have been well, but it turned back, or
another just like it came suddenly spitting behind her. Pussy
leaped to the long track and made for the home shore. She might
have got there had not a third of the Red-eyed Terrors come
screeching at her from that side. She was running her hardest,
but was caught between two foes. There was nothing for it but a