came to a wide-barred cage in which was a Fox. The gentleman with
the bushy tail was in a far corner. He crouched low; his eyes
glowed. The Kitten wandered, sniffing, up to the bars, put its
head in, sniffed again, then made toward the feed-pan, to be
seized in a flash by the crouching Fox. It gave a frightened
"mew," but a single shake cut that short and would have ended
Kitty's nine lives at once, had not the negro come to the rescue.
He had no weapon and could not get into the cage, but he spat
with such copious vigor in the Fox's face that he dropped the
Kitten and returned to the corner, there to sit blinking his eyes
in sullen fear.

The negro pulled the Kitten out. The shake of the beast of prey
seemed to have stunned the victim, really to have saved it much
suffering. The Kitten seemed unharmed, but giddy. It tottered in
a circle for a time, then slowly revived, and a few minutes later
was purring in the negro's lap, apparently none the worse, when
Jap Malee, the bird-man, came home.

Jap was not an Oriental; he was a full-blooded Cockney, but his
eyes were such little accidental slits aslant in his round, flat
face, that his first name was forgotten in the highly descriptive
title of "Jap." He was not especially unkind to the birds and
beasts whose sales were supposed to furnish his living, but his
eye was on the main chance; he knew what he wanted. He didn't
want the Slum Kitten.

The negro gave it all the food it could eat, then carried it to a
distant block and dropped it in a neighboring iron-yard.