were there, and if they did not afford a meat-supply, at least
they were sure to produce potato-skins that could be used to
allay the gripe of hunger for another day.

One night the mother Cat smelt a wonderful smell that came from
the East River at the end of the alley. A new smell always needs
investigating, and when it is attractive as well as new, there is
but one course open. It led Pussy to the docks a block away, and
then out on a wharf, away from any cover but the night. A sudden
noise, a growl and a rush, were the first notice she had that she
was cut off by her old enemy, the Wharf Dog. There was only one
escape. She leaped from the wharf to the vessel from which the
smell came. The Dog could not follow, so when the fish-boat
sailed in the morning Pussy unwillingly went with her and was
seen no more.


II

The Slum Kitten waited in vain for her mother. The morning came
and went. She became very hungry. Toward evening a deep-laid
instinct drove her forth to seek food. She slunk out of the old
box, and feeling her way silently among the rubbish, she smelt
everything that seemed eatable, but without finding food. At
length she reached the wooden steps leading down into Jap Malee's
bird-store underground. The door was open a little. She wandered
into a world of rank and curious smells and a number of living
things in cages all about her. A negro was sitting idly on a box
in a corner. He saw the little stranger enter and watched it
curiously. It wandered past some Rabbits. They paid no heed. It