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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
36
She
was
over
three
days
learning
the
manifold
dangers
and
complexities
of
the
East
River
docks.
Once
she
got
by
mistake
on
a
ferryboat
and
was
carried
over
to
Long
Island;
but
she
took
an
early
boat
back.
At
length
on
the
third
night
she
reached
familiar
ground,
the
place
she
had
passed
the
night
of
her
first
escape.
From
that
her
course
was
sure
and
rapid.
She
knew
just
where
she
was
going
and
how
to
get
there.
She
knew
even
the
more
prominent
features
in
the
Dog-scape
now.
She
went
faster,
felt
happier.
In
a
little
while
surely
she
would
be
curled
up
in
her
native
Orient--the
old
junk-yard.
Another
turn,
and
the
block
was
in
sight.
But--what!
It
was
gone!
Kitty
couldn't
believe
her
eyes;
but
she
must,
for
the
sun
was
not
yet
up.
There
where
once
had
stood
or
leaned
or
slouched
or
straggled
the
houses
of
the
block,
was
a
great
broken
wilderness
of
stone,
lumber,
and
holes
in
the
ground.
Kitty
walked
all
around
it.
She
knew
by
the
bearings
and
by
the
local
color
of
the
pavement
that
she
was
in
her
home,
that
there
had
lived
the
bird-man,
and
there
was
the
old
junk-yard;
but
all
were
gone,
completely
gone,
taking
their
familiar
odors
with
them,
and
Pussy
turned
sick
at
heart
in
the
utter
hopelessness
of
the
case.
Her
place-love
was
her
master-mood.
She
had
given
up
all
to
come
to
a
home
that
no
longer
existed,
and
for
once
her
sturdy
little
heart
was
cast
down.
She
wandered
over
the
silent
heaps
of
rubbish
and
found
neither
consolation
nor
eatables.
The
ruin
had
taken
in
several
of
the
blocks
and
reached
back
from
the
water.
It
was
not
a
fire;
Kitty
had
seen
one
of
those
things.
This
looked
more
like
the
work
of
a
flock
of
the
Red-eyed
Monsters.
Pussy
knew
nothing
of
the
great
bridge
that
was
to
rise
from
this
very
spot.
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