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The Slum Cat 
of Cats was gathered, the push-cart stopped. 
The man with the magic voice took out of the 
box in his cart a skewer on which were pieces 
of strong-smelling boiled liver. With a long 
stick he pushed the pieces off. Each Cat seized 
on one, and wheeling, with a slight depression 
of the ears and a little tiger growl and glare, 
she rushed away with her prize to devour it in 
some safe retreat. 
“Meat! Meat!” And still they came to get 
their portions. All were well known to the 
meat-man. ‘There was Castiglione’s Tiger; this 
was Jones’s Black; here was Pralitsky’s ‘Tor- 
kershell,” and this was Madame Danton’s White ; 
there sneaked Blenkinshoff’s Maltee, and that 
climbing on the barrow was Sawyer’s old Or- 
ange Billy, an impudent fraud that never had 
had any financial backing,—all to be remem- 
bered and kept in account. This one’s owner 
was sure pay, a dime a week; that one’s doubt- 
ful. There was John Washee’s Cat, that got 
only a small piece because John was in arrears. 
Then there was the saloon-keeper’s collared and 
ribboned ratter, which got an extra lump be- 
cause the ‘barkeep’ was liberal; and the rounds- 
poe 
re Te 
