The Slum Cat 
x 
So a week went by, and Pussy, dirty, ribbon- 
less, foot-sore, and weary, arrived at the Harlem 
Bridge. Though it was enveloped in delicious 
smells, she did not like the look of that bridge. 
For half the night she wandered up and 
down the shore without discovering any other 
means of going south, excepting some other 
bridges, or anything of interest except that here 
the men were as dangerous as the boys. 
Somehow she had to come back to it; not 
only its smells were familiar, but from time to 
time, when a One-eye ran over it, there was 
that peculiar rumbling roar that was a sensa- 
tion in the springtime trip. The calm of the 
late night was abroad when she leaped to the 
timber stringer and glided out over the water. 
She had got less than a third of the way across 
when a thundering One-eye came roaring at her 
from the opposite end. She was much fright- 
ened, but knowing their stupidity and blind- 
ness, she dropped to a low side beam and there 
crouched in hiding. Of course the stupid Mon- 
