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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
24
But
she
was
strictly
watched,
was
never
allowed
outside--so
that
all
the
happy
garbage-can
moments
occurred
while
these
receptacles
of
joy
were
indoors.
One
night
in
March,
however,
as
they
were
set
out
a-row
for
the
early
scavenger,
the
Royal
Analostan
saw
her
chance,
slipped
out
of
the
door,
and
was
lost
to
view.
Of
course
there
was
a
grand
stir;
but
Pussy
neither
knew
nor
cared
anything
about
that--her
one
thought
was
to
go
home.
It
may
have
been
chance
that
took
her
back
in
the
direction
of
Gramercy
Grange
Hill,
but
she
did
arrive
there
after
sundry
small
adventures.
And
now
what?
She
was
not
at
home,
and
she
had
cut
off
her
living.
She
was
beginning
to
be
hungry,
and
yet
she
had
a
peculiar
sense
of
happiness.
She
cowered
in
a
front
garden
for
some
time.
A
raw
east
wind
had
been
rising,
and
now
it
came
to
her
with
a
particularly
friendly
message;
man
would
have
called
it
an
unpleasant
smell
of
the
docks,
but
to
Pussy
it
was
welcome
tidings
from
home.
She
trotted
down
the
long
Street
due
east,
threading
the
rails
of
front
gardens,
stopping
like
a
statue
for
an
instant,
or
crossing
the
street
in
search
of
the
darkest
side,
and
came
at
length
to
the
docks
and
to
the
water.
But
the
place
was
strange.
She
could
go
north
or
south.
Something
turned
her
southward;
and,
dodging
among
docks
and
Dogs,
carts
and
Cats,
crooked
arms
of
the
bay
and
straight
board
fences,
she
got,
in
an
hour
or
two,
among
familiar
scenes
and
smells;
and,
before
the
sun
came
up,
she
had
crawled
back--weary
and
foot-sore
through
the
same
old
hole
in
the
same
old
fence
and
over
a
wall
to
her
junk-yard
back
of
the
bird-cellar--yes,
back
into
the
very
cracker-box
where
she
was
born.
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