A Night Out | Page 2

his twisted smile, raised one paw, and regarded its claws
with a sort of humorous pride.
The Persian cat said nothing. Ringtail Pete was obviously an
undesirable acquaintance; therefore Omar Ben held his tongue, and
became interested in the bullfrog. Curiosity, however, conquered
refined reserve.
"What is it?" he asked presently.
"Frawg," said the street cat, with laconic candor, as he gracefully

mauled the subject of discussion. "I gets 'em over to the frawg-pawnd
up back of Lumkins's tannery. Have a piece?"
"Thank you, no," returned the Persian, with a faint smile of his own.
"I've just had luncheon."
Pete shrugged his gaunt shoulders, murdered the frog, and prepared to
dispose of it permanently. Omar Ben edged closer. In spite of his polite
refusal, the frog fascinated him. Never in all his benighted life had he
tasted one morsel which had not been prepared for him on dainty china;
but now it was different. Across the geranium-bed came a strange,
alluring scent--a scent which roused the memory of inheritance--a
memory well-nigh washed out of him, and his sire before him, by the
bottle-pap of luxury. A memory it was of wild things, to be killed--a
blood-lust memory--and now at last it woke in a pampered,
velvet-hearted cat.
Ringtail Pete was conscious of the other's wistful look, and laughed; for
his battle with life had taught him generosity.
"Say, bo, yer don't want to do de bashful--see?--'cause me 'n' you is
gents what understands de game er chanst. Here--take holt an' chaw
yerse'f off a hunk!"
The aristocrat hesitated, then slid down one rung on the ladder of
degradation--pushed by blood-lust and by the strange compelling
camaraderie of an arab of the streets. It was wrong, he knew, but then
there was a certain flavor in this wrong; so, gingerly, he crossed the
geranium-bed, took one web foot firmly between his teeth, and
wondered at the thrill of life that sparked and snapped along his spine.
Then Pete and Omar Ben tugged and tugged, till the clean
geranium-bed was a comfortable, wholesome wreck.
"Hully gee!" grinned Ringtail Pete. "We otter make a wish!"
They made it, and the metaphoric wish-bone parted with a jerk, Omar
Ben rolling upon his lordly back in the healthy dirt; but he rose and
devoured his frog-leg to its smallest bone, wishing with all his heart

that the frog had been a bigger frog. Then he licked his chops and
looked in admiration on his worldly friend.
"Thank you, so much," he began, but the arab waved formality aside.
"Aw, 't wan't nuttin'," he declared, "an' dey tastes a darn sight better
when yer wades fer 'em. Say! Look-a-here! You meet me to-night on
de top er dis here wall, an' I'll learn yer how to wade fer frawgs."
"Oh, dear!" began the Persian, trembling at the very mention of the
outer world. "Really, Mr. Pete, I--really--"
"Punk!" cut in the arab, dismissing the protest with a switch of his
mutilated tail. "I won't take 'naw' fer a answer; an' dis here's de way fer
to jump yer wealthy crib. You watch me!"
He backed away, then took a running start and made the coping of the
wall in a splendid, scurrying rush, amid a shower of scattered
ivy-leaves. On the top he turned and called to the wondering aristocrat:
"Jes' wait fer me an' de moon, me son, an' dontcher fergit dat frawgs is
frawgs!"
Once more he smiled his twisted smile, and was gone into the vulgar
outer world. He had not waited for a promise from his friend, for Pete
was wise in his little hour of life and left the keeping of a tryst with the
honor of a gentleman.

II
As for Omar Ben, he sat in the healthy grime of the garden soil, his
mind a prey to the poison of glittering promises, till suddenly a human
fell upon him with an absurd French shriek and bore him away to the
lap of comfort and a scented bath.
In the bath he yowled; and wept when another lavender bow was tied
about his neck; and yet, had Mlle. Frenchy observed him carefully, she

might have caught him smiling.
All day long he dozed and dreamed--dreamed of the vulgar world
beyond the wall--for now it seemed to his pampered soul that the pole
star of an earthly cat's desire was "frawgs."
At the humans' dinner-time he scorned their expensive fare and sneaked
away into the shadows of the garden to wait for Ringtail Pete and the
rising of the moon. It rose; and, as it peeped above the wall, there also
rose a cautious signal-wail, and Pete's one eye glowed green among the
ivy-vines.
"Hi, spote!" grinned the owner of the eye, as Omar Ben clawed his way
to a perch beside him.