A Night Out | Page 3

for a quarter of a mile along a country road, they approached the outskirts of the town and began to cross it, employing unfrequented paths. They traversed an alley, black and reeking with nightly smells, pausing at last on the verge of a lighted street whence rose the sound of human mirth, bits of vulgar song, and the barking of vagrant dogs.
"S-h-h-h!" cautioned Ringtail. "You wait till I counts to t'ree, den make a rush fer de alley acrost de street--see?"
"But, why?" asked Omar Ben, wondering.
Pete sniffed in scorn of the uninitiated.
"Well, nemmine why! You do like I tells yer, or yer'll git yer eggercation wid a brick. Now den! One--two--t'ree! Hump it, bo!"
They humped it, making the other alley's mouth by a margin slim indeed, followed by human howls and a clattering volley of sticks and stones.
"Good gracious!" the Persian gasped, as they streaked through the alley's filth. "What are they?"
"Boys," grinned Pete. "De town is gittin' fair congested wid 'em. But 'tain't nuttin', son; it's jes' a part er de game er life. Come on."
The way was easier now, and they journeyed without alarm. Presently Ringtail turned to his friend with his twisted smile:
"Yer see dat lady settin' on de gate-post? Well, dat's me steady. I'll interjuce yer in a minute."
The lady in question was a thin, dirty white cat with bold eyes and a brazen bearing, and Omar Ben was doubtful of her caste.
"Thank you," he murmured non-committally, and hurried on; but the meeting was unavoidable, for the lady crossed the street and stood directly in his path.
"Hi, Mame!" said Pete, in cordial greeting. "Shake hands wid me friend, Mr.--er--aw hell! Shake hands wid bo!"
Omar Ben had never seen a lady-cat, and his ideal of the sex was something modest and retiring. Miss Mame was not retiring. She greeted her friend's friend without the courtesy of a "Mr.," looked in open admiration at the handsome gentleman, and asked if he were single.
The aristocrat murmured a commonplace and edged away. At the slight the lady took umbrage, spat warningly, and showed her claws, till Ringtail averted trouble by a generous display of tact.
"Now, don't git phony, Mame!" he remarked in a gentle whisper. "De gent's all right, but he's young, dat's all, an' I'm goin' to learn him--see? You chase aroun' fer Lizzie, an' if de goil ain't got no udder date, yet kin meet us here 'bout moondown, an' we'll bring yer a brace er frawgs. So long, Mame! Remember dat I loves yer!"
With a partly mollified sniff, the lady retired to her gate-post, and the two adventurers went on. They came to the evil-smelling tannery, and to the frog-pond just behind it, stretching cold and still in the moonlight, and covered with a noxious, slimy scum. It was horribly different from the Persian's usual baths, but, once in he forgot its chill in the lust of the hunt.
They waded and swam and scrambled along the shore, Ringtail pointing out that frogs were wont to crouch close down by the water's edge in the shadow of some bush or vine.
"Dere's one!" he whispered suddenly. "Now, sneak up, son, an' grab 'im!"
Quivering with suppressed excitement, Omar Ben sneaked, but mistook the especial frog to which his friend had reference. Instead, he pounced upon a big yellow-throated beast weighing a pound and a half, and known colloquially as a "sockdolliger" or a "joogger-room." There followed a scuffling rush, a grunt, a startled yowl, and a swirl of water; then Omar Ben came up coughing, minus his frog, but plus an overcoat of mud and disappointment.
"Great snakes!" yelled Pete. "Ain't yer got no gumption 't all? Ef I had knowed yer wanted ter eat a cow, I'd 'a' took you up to de slaughter-house! Go fer de little ones, bo. Yer don't gain nuttin' by bein' a hawg. Take it from me--it's straight!"
"Bo" went for the little ones. He had learned his lesson of experience, and profited thereby. He made his virgin kill and devoured it, squatting in the muddy pond, while around him rose the voices of the wild things of the night; and never had morsel tasted sweeter to his pampered tongue. And so the hunt went on, a never-to-be-forgotten hunt, when crawfish nipped their tails, when insects preyed upon their eyes, and they dripped with the sweat of joyful toil; then, presently, the friends stretched out upon the bank, weary and replete.
"Say, bo," said Ringtail, after a restful pause, "what do yer say to a nip?"
"A nip?" asked Omar Ben in astonishment. "What kind of a nip?"
"W'y, a catnip, yer bloomin' bladderskite! Wot did yer t'ink I meant--a cornder of de moon? I'm talkin' 'bout jes' straight catnip. Are you on?"
"Yes, certainly," returned the Persian gravely. "I am on!"
On the homeward way they turned into a lane