One full meal is as much as any one needs in two or three days, and
under the influence of this stored-up heat and power, Kitty was very
lively. She walked around the piled-up rubbish, cast curious glances on
far-away Canary-birds in cages that hung from high windows; she peeped
over fences, discovered a large Dog, got quietly down again, and
presently finding a sheltered place in full sunlight, she lay down and
slept for an hour. A slight 'sniff' awakened her, and before her stood
a large Black Cat with glowing green eyes, and the thick neck and
square jaws that distinguish the Tom; a scar marked his cheek, and his
left ear was torn. His look was far from friendly; his ears moved
backward a little, his tail twitched, and a faint, deep sound came from
his throat. The Kitten innocently walked toward him. She did not
remember him. He rubbed the sides of his jaws on a post, and quietly,
slowly turned and disappeared. The last that she saw of him was the end
of his tail twitching from side to side; and the little Slummer had no
idea that she had been as near death to-day, as she had been when she
ventured into the fox-cage.
As night came on the Kitten began to feel hungry. She examined
carefully the long invisible colored stream that the wind is made of.
She selected the most interesting of its strands, and, nose-led,
followed. In the corner of the iron-yard was a box of garbage. Among
this she found something that answered fairly well for food; a bucket
of water under a faucet offered a chance to quench her thirst.
The night was spent chiefly in prowling about and learning the main
lines of the iron-yard. The next day she passed as before, sleeping in
the sun. Thus the time wore on. Sometimes she found a good meal at the
garbage-box, sometimes there was nothing. Once she found the big Black
Tom there, but discreetly withdrew before he saw her. The water-bucket
was usually at its place, or, failing that, there were some muddy
little pools on the stone below. But the garbage-box was very
unreliable. Once it left her for three days without food. She searched
along the high fence, and seeing a small hole, crawled through that and
found herself in the open street. This was a new world, but before she
had ventured far, there was a noisy, rumbling rush--a large Dog came
bounding, and Kitty had barely time to run back into the hole in the
fence. She was dreadfully hungry, and glad to find some old
potato-peelings, which gave a little respite from the hunger-pang. In
the morning she did not sleep, but prowled for food. Some Sparrows
chirruped in the yard. They were often there, but now they were viewed
with new eyes. The steady pressure of hunger had roused the wild hunter
in the Kitten; those Sparrows were game--were food. She crouched
instinctively and stalked from cover to cover, but the chirpers were
alert and flew in time. Not once, but many times, she tried without
result except to confirm the Sparrows in the list of things to be eaten
if obtainable.
On the fifth day of ill luck the Slum Kitty ventured forth into the
street, desperately bent on finding food. When far from the haven hole
some small boys opened fire at her with pieces of brick. She ran in
fear. A Dog joined in the chase, and Kitty's position grew perilous;
but an old-fashioned iron fence round a house-front was there, and she
slipped in between the rails as the Dog overtook her. A woman in a
window above shouted at the Dog. Then the boys dropped a piece of
cat-meat down to the unfortunate; and Kitty had the most delicious meal
of her life. The stoop afforded a refuge. Under this she sat patiently
till nightfall came with quiet, then sneaked back like a shadow to her
old iron-yard.
Thus the days went by for two months. She grew in size and strength and
in an intimate knowledge of the immediate neighborhood. She made the
acquaintance of Downey Street, where long rows of ash-cans were to be
seen every morning. She formed her own ideas of their proprietors. The
big house was to her, not a Roman Catholic mission, but a place whose
garbage-tins abounded in choicest fish scrapings. She soon made the
acquaintance of the meat-man, and joined in the shy fringe of Cats that
formed the outer circle. She also met the Wharf Dog as well as two or
three other horrors of the same class. She knew what to expect of them
and how to avoid them; and she was happy in being the inventor of a new
industry. Many thousand Cats have doubtless hung, in hope, about the
tempting milk-cans that the early milk-man leaves on steps and
window-ledges, and it was by the merest accident that Kitty found one
with a broken lid, and so was taught to raise it and have a satisfying
drink. Bottles, of course, were beyond her, but many a can has a misfit
lid, and Kitty was very painstaking in her efforts to discover the
loose-jointed ones. Finally she extended her range by exploration till
she achieved the heart of the next block, and farther, till once more
among the barrels and boxes of the yard behind the bird-man's cellar.
The old iron-yard never had been home, she had always felt like a
stranger there; but here she had a sense of ownership, and at once
resented the presence of another small Cat. She approached this
newcomer with threatening air. The two had got as far as snarling and
spitting when a bucket of water from an upper window drenched them both
and effectually cooled their wrath. They fled, the newcomer over the
wall, Slum Kitty under the very box where she had been born. This whole
back region appealed to her strongly, and here again she took up her
abode. The yard had no more garbage food than the other and no water at
all, but it was frequented by stray Rats and a few Mice of the finest
quality; these were occasionally secured, and afforded not only a
palatable meal, but were the cause of her winning a friend.