A Night Out | Page 2

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. "Yer clumb dat wall in a way dat make me proud. Now, den, we're off!"
They dropped into the outer world. Omar Ben was trembling somewhat, but tried his best to conceal the mortifying fact, and presently he conquered it. After walking