The Slum Cat 
Kitty’s yowls, and just as it neared the point 
where endurance ceased, there was relief. She 
heard clicks and clacks. There was light; 
there was air. Then a man’s voice called, 
“ All out for 125th Street,” though of course to 
Kitty it was a mere human bellow. The 
roaring almost ceased—did cease. Later the 
rackety-bang was renewed with plenty of 
sounds and shakes, though not the poison- 
ous gas; a long, hollow, booming roar with a 
pleasant dock smell was quickly passed, and 
then there was a succession of jolts, roars, jars, 
stops, clicks, clacks, smells, jumps, shakes, more 
smells, more shakes,—big shakes, little shakes, 
—gases, smokes, screeches, door-bells, trem- 
blings, roars, thunders, and some new smells, 
raps, taps, heavings, rumblings, and more smells, 
but all without any of the feel that the direc- 
tion is changed. When at last it stopped, 
the sun came twinkling through the basket-lid. 
The Royal Cat was lifted into a Rumble-shaker 
of the old familiar style, and, swerving aside from 
their past course, very soon the noises of its 
wheels were grittings and rattlings ; a new 
and horrible sound was added—the barking of 
Si 
