A NIGHT OUT BY EDWARD PEPLE _Frontispiece by_ R. L. GOLDBERG [Illustration: "The Beast has had the time of his life. "] I Omar Ben Sufi was a cat. This unadorned statement would have wounded OmarBen to the marrow of his pride, for he chanced to be a splendidtiger-marked feline of purest Persian breed, with glorious yellow eyesand a Solomon-in-all-his-glory tail. His pedigree could be traceddirectly back to Padisha Zim Yuki Yowsi Zind--a dignity, in itself, sufficient to cause an aristocratic languor; but, to the layman, he wasjust a cat. He dwelt with an exclusive family of humans in a littleeighty-thousand-dollar cottage on the outskirts of vulgarity--which isto say, the villa was situated near enough to town to admit of marketing, but far enough removed therefrom to escape the clatter of plebeian toiland the noxious contact with the unhealthy, unwealthy herd. Here thehumans entertained selected friends who came at the ends of weeks toadmire the splendor of Omar Ben's tail, to bow down to the humans' money, and to hate them fiercely because they had it. The master did not toil. He lived, for certain hours of the day, in WallStreet, where he sank his patrician fingers into the throats of lessermen, squeezed them dry, then washed his hands in violet water, and builta church. True, he did not attend this church himself, but he built it;otherwise his neighbors might have been deprived of the opportunity ofpraising God. Omar Ben had a French maid all to himself--a perky little human with aquasi-kinship to the feline race--who combed him and brushed him andslicked him down and gave him endless, mortifying baths. Also, she tiedlavender bows about his neck, and fed him from Dresden china on minuteparticles of flaked fish and raw sirloin, with a dessert of pasteurizedcream. In the rear of the eighty-thousand-dollar cottage there was athirty-thousand-dollar flower-garden--an oppressively clean garden, wherethe big Jack-roses were as immaculate as a "mama's Lizzie-boy, " and thewell-bred, timid little violets seemed to long to play in the dirt, yetdared not because of the master-rule of "form. " And here the clean catused to sun himself in the clean garden, thinking his clean thoughts andperishing of _ennui_ clean through. Then, one day, from the vulgar outer world came an unclean incident. Omar Ben became conscious of an uproar beyond the garden wall. Itembraced a whimper of canine hope, a spitting taunt, and the patter offlying paws; then, suddenly, on the top of the high brick wall appeared acat. The newcomer paused an instant to fling an obscene _au revoir_ atthe raging, disappointed dog, dropped carelessly down into ageranium-bed, and took his bearings. He was not a patrician. Omar Ben eyed him in a sort of wondering awe. Thestranger was a long-barreled, rumple-furred, devil-clawed street arab, of a caste--or no-caste--that battles for existence with the world--andbeats it. On his tail were rings of missing fur, suggesting formerattachments, not of lady friends, but of tin cans and strings. Forfurther assets, he possessed one eye and a twisted smile. His presenttotal liability lay in the dog beyond the wall, so the arab wasn't sobadly fixed, after all. Besides, he owned property. It consisted of abullfrog which he carried in his mouth, with its legs and web feetprotruding in wriggly, but unavailing, protest. To breathe the better, the street cat dropped his frog and set one mangypaw upon it; then, suddenly, he spied the Persian. "Hello, bo!" he observed cheerfully. "Didn't see yer. Did yer pipe mechase wid de yelper? Dat stilt-legged son of a saw-toothed tyke has hadhis nose on me rudder-post fer more'n a mile. " The Persian made no answer, and the arab continued, unabashed: "It's a hunch dat I could 'a' clawed de stuffin's outer him, but I didn'twant fer to lose me lunch. Say! Wot's yer name?" Omar Ben regarded the interloper with the same glance of refined surprisethat the master might have employed when a fleeced plebeian entered hisoffice, demanding to know why the market had slumped in directcontradiction to confidential prophecy. He elevated his patrician brows, but gave the desired information politely: "My ribbon-name is Omar Ben Sufi, first-born of the second litter of YikiZootra and Sultana Yaggi Kiz. Here at home, however, I am known by avariety of others, such as _Mon Prince de Maniere Charmante_, Sugar-pie-precious, and--" "Aw, cut it!" snapped the street cat disgustedly. "Dem ain't no decentnames! D'ey's positive ridick'lous! _Mine's_ Ringtail Pete, but mefrien's has reasons fer fergittin' de tail part of it when dey names meto me face--see?" He smiled his twisted smile, raised one paw, and regarded its claws witha sort of humorous pride. The Persian cat said nothing. Ringtail Pete was obviously an undesirableacquaintance; therefore Omar Ben held his tongue, and became interestedin the bullfrog. Curiosity, however, conquered refined reserve. "What is it?" he asked presently. "Frawg, " said the street cat, with laconic candor, as he gracefullymauled the subject of discussion. "I gets 'em over to the frawg-pawnd upback 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 todispose of it permanently. Omar Ben edged closer. In spite of his politerefusal, the frog fascinated him. Never in all his benighted life had hetasted 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 memorywell-nigh washed out of him, and his sire before him, by the bottle-papof luxury. A memory it was of wild things, to be killed--a blood-lustmemory--and now at last it woke in a pampered, velvet-hearted cat. Ringtail Pete was conscious of the other's wistful look, and laughed; forhis battle with life had taught him generosity. "Say, bo, yer don't want to do de bashful--see?--'cause me 'n' you isgents what understands de game er chanst. Here--take holt an' chawyerse'f off a hunk!" The aristocrat hesitated, then slid down one rung on the ladder ofdegradation--pushed by blood-lust and by the strange compelling_camaraderie_ of an arab of the streets. It was wrong, he knew, but thenthere was a certain flavor in this wrong; so, gingerly, he crossed thegeranium-bed, took one web foot firmly between his teeth, and wondered atthe thrill of life that sparked and snapped along his spine. Then Peteand Omar Ben tugged and tugged, till the clean geranium-bed was acomfortable, 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 Benrolling upon his lordly back in the healthy dirt; but he rose anddevoured his frog-leg to its smallest bone, wishing with all his heartthat the frog had been a bigger frog. Then he licked his chops and lookedin 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 betterwhen yer wades fer 'em. Say! Look-a-here! You meet me to-night on de toper 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 outerworld. "Really, Mr. Pete, I--really--" "Punk!" cut in the arab, dismissing the protest with a switch of hismutilated tail. "I won't take 'naw' fer a answer; an' dis here's de wayfer to jump yer wealthy crib. You watch me!" He backed away, then took a running start and made the coping of thewall in a splendid, scurrying rush, amid a shower of scatteredivy-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 frawgsis frawgs!" Once more he smiled his twisted smile, and was gone into the vulgar outerworld. He had not waited for a promise from his friend, for Pete was wisein his little hour of life and left the keeping of a tryst with the honorof a gentleman. II As for Omar Ben, he sat in the healthy grime of the garden soil, his minda prey to the poison of glittering promises, till suddenly a human fellupon him with an absurd French shriek and bore him away to the lap ofcomfort and a scented bath. In the bath he yowled; and wept when another lavender bow was tied abouthis neck; and yet, had Mlle. Frenchy observed him carefully, she mighthave caught him smiling. All day long he dozed and dreamed--dreamed of the vulgar world beyondthe wall--for now it seemed to his pampered soul that the pole star of anearthly cat's desire was "frawgs. " At the humans' dinner-time he scorned their expensive fare and sneakedaway into the shadows of the garden to wait for Ringtail Pete and therising of the moon. It rose; and, as it peeped above the wall, there alsorose a cautious signal-wail, and Pete's one eye glowed green among theivy-vines. "Hi, spote!" grinned the owner of the eye, as Omar Ben clawed his way toa 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, buttried his best to conceal the mortifying fact, and presently he conqueredit. After walking for a quarter of a mile along a country road, theyapproached the outskirts of the town and began to cross it, employingunfrequented paths. They traversed an alley, black and reeking withnightly smells, pausing at last on the verge of a lighted street whencerose the sound of human mirth, bits of vulgar song, and the barking ofvagrant dogs. "S-h-h-h!" cautioned Ringtail. "You wait till I counts to t'ree, denmake 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 yereggercation 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 thealley'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. PresentlyRingtail turned to his friend with his twisted smile: "Yer see dat lady settin' on de gate-post? Well, dat's me steady. I'llinterjuce yer in a minute. " The lady in question was a thin, dirty white cat with bold eyes and abrazen bearing, and Omar Ben was doubtful of her caste. "Thank you, " he murmured non-committally, and hurried on; but themeeting was unavoidable, for the lady crossed the street and stooddirectly 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 wassomething modest and retiring. Miss Mame was not retiring. She greetedher friend's friend without the courtesy of a "Mr. , " looked in openadmiration at the handsome gentleman, and asked if he were single. The aristocrat murmured a commonplace and edged away. At the slight thelady took umbrage, spat warningly, and showed her claws, till Ringtailaverted trouble by a generous display of tact. "Now, don't git phony, Mame!" he remarked in a gentle whisper. "De gent'sall 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, yetkin 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 thetwo adventurers went on. They came to the evil-smelling tannery, and tothe frog-pond just behind it, stretching cold and still in the moonlight, and covered with a noxious, slimy scum. It was horribly different fromthe Persian's usual baths, but, once in he forgot its chill in the lustof the hunt. They waded and swam and scrambled along the shore, Ringtail pointing outthat frogs were wont to crouch close down by the water's edge in theshadow 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 theespecial frog to which his friend had reference. Instead, he pounced upona big yellow-throated beast weighing a pound and a half, and knowncolloquially as a "sockdolliger" or a "joogger-room. " There followed ascuffling rush, a grunt, a startled yowl, and a swirl of water; then OmarBen came up coughing, minus his frog, but plus an overcoat of mud anddisappointment. "Great snakes!" yelled Pete. "Ain't yer got no gumption 't all? Ef I hadknowed yer wanted ter eat a cow, I'd 'a' took you up to deslaughter-house! Go fer de little ones, bo. Yer don't gain nuttin' bybein' 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, squattingin the muddy pond, while around him rose the voices of the wild things ofthe night; and never had morsel tasted sweeter to his pampered tongue. And so the hunt went on, a never-to-be-forgotten hunt, when crawfishnipped their tails, when insects preyed upon their eyes, and they drippedwith the sweat of joyful toil; then, presently, the friends stretched outupon the bank, weary and replete. "Say, bo, " said Ringtail, after a restful pause, "what do yer say to anip?" "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--acornder 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 and came to a clump ofcatnip. True, Omar Ben had tasted the herb before, but dry and infive-cent packages, which was different from the pure article direct fromnature's still and exuding its sharp, intoxicating breath. Pete and Omarfell upon it greedily, rolled upon it, wallowed among the scatteredleaves, and chewed and chewed till their senses swam in a spirit-dance ofecstasy. Then, after a nap, the two reeled homeward down the road, Petesmiling his twisted smile, and Omar Ben Sufi wrapped in the comfortingbelief that he was singing tunefully. "Say, R. T. , " the Persian chuckled happily, "what did you say was the nameof your lady friend's other lady friend?" "Lizzie, " answered Ringtail, astounded at the tone of familiarity; "an'take it from me she's white!" "In color, do you mean?" "Naw--in disposition. Outside, she's kind of striped, but inside, delady's white; an' don't yer fergit it, bo, she's de owner of four goodsets of claws. "Thank you, " said Omar Ben airily. "I shall endeavor to remember. Comealong, R. T. !" Pete objected somewhat to this pointed abbreviation of his name, butforgave his friend on the grounds that he was drunk; so the two went onand sought their rendezvous. The ladies were waiting, seated expectantlyon the gate-posts, but descended at Ringtail's call, and the "swell gent"was formally introduced. Miss Lizzie seemed to like him immensely, andthe two progressed so well that Ringtail stretched his single eye to itsutmost capacity, cursing softly at his friend's unprecedented cheek. ForOmar Ben--thanks to his nip of catnip--so far forgot his strained reservethat Miss Lizzie herself said afterward to a friend, in confidence: "I never _see_ sech a _forward_ gent sence me 'n' you was a couple erhalf-way-drownded kits!" The flirtation, however, was short-lived, for suddenly, without aninstant's warning, Miss Lizzie, Miss Mame, and Pete himself went clawingup a water-pipe to a convenient roof above, while down the street camefloating a shrill, defiant yowl. "Chase yerse'f, bo!" called Pete in a voice of fear. "It's Ash-Can Sam!" Now, Ash-Can Sam had a reputation of his own, as every cat in theneighborhood could testify with sorrow and with tears. He weighed elevenpounds. He kept himself in training; and, where others lived for love orwealth or art, Ash-Can Sam existed for a finish fight alone. At thepresent speaking he came swaggering around a corner, and paused inastonishment at the sight of a stranger sitting in the middle of thestreet. The insolence of it! It was past belief! "Oh, please, Mr. Bo!" wailed Lizzie, wringing her paws as she perchedupon the roof. "Do hurry while youse has got de chanst! He'll rip yousomethin' terrible! For _my_ sake, dearie, _won't_ you slope?" "No, not upon your life!" called Omar Ben gravely. "I will not demeanmyself by retreating from any cat alive. " This statement was fat with brave audacity, but lean in the matter ofdiscretion; so Pete leaned down with one last friendly whisper of appeal: "W'y, you chowder-headed ass, he'll make yer look like a moth-et flannelshirt! _Beat it_!" The patrician declined to "beat it, " and Ash-Can Sam edged a littlecloser, wearing a dissolute, wicked leer of joy. He circled slowly roundthe stranger cat, eying Omar Ben's glossy coat and humming a sort ofvulgar chant: Ain't it a sham-m-m-m-e! To chaw up mommer's sugar-pet, An' hurt his nose, not soon, but yet. Oh, ain't it a sham-m-m-m-e! Omar Ben regarded the bully in calm scorn. "You disreputable beast, " hesaid, "shut up!" Sam, in no uncertain terms, stated his unwillingness to shut up, and theconversation became personal. "Yer blink-eyed yard er silk, I'm a goin' to turn you cat-out-the-skinan' sell yer tail fer a fancy dustin'-brush!" "Bosh! You'd run from a pet canary. " "You're a liar!" "You're another!" "So's yer pa an' so's yer mother!" "_Pfst! Zzz-i-ttt! Y-eo-w!_" And the battle was on. "Oh, dear!" mewed Lizzie tearfully. "An' Mr. Bo was sech a easy-manneredgent'man, too!" Sub-consciously, she was already referring to the foolish Persian in thepast tense; yet, in view of probable results, and in the stress of suchviolent circumstance, her anti-mortem sorrow might at least be pardoned. Omar Ben had never had a fight, and yet the memory of inheritance hadwaked within him, revealing other traits besides his yearning fordebauchery and "frawgs"; so now he squared himself and uncurled hisvelvet toes. Ash-Can Sam crouched low and came in with a headlong rush. Omar Benside-stepped and raked him with a stiffly extended paw. It was a goodrake, and there was fur upon his claws--and blood. "Hully gee!" breathed Pete into Mame's convenient ear. "Did yer pipe deway bo upper-cut 'im? Gee!" Ash-Can Sam was wounded--not so much in body as in pugilistic pride. Heturned to wipe away the stain, and, incidentally, to wipe the earth withthe body of a foreign cat. This time he came in, swearing, and the twocats reared upon their haunches with the shock; then fell in a tangled, rending, yowling snarl. Omar Ben, by instinctive craft, sought for apoint of vantage underneath his foe--a vantage because, when lying on hisback, he could claw straight up with all four feet, and the greater theweight of the chap on top, the greater his woe--abdominally. This point of vantage, however, is rather difficult to hold, with twomost earnest gentlemen desirous of it; and so they changedpositions--changed so rapidly, in fact, that their bodies resembled asort of pyrotechnic pinwheel whose centrifugal sparks were composed ofeyes and claws and tufts of fur and cat profanity. Also, it lasted longerthan the ordinary pinwheel, and was a trifle more uproarious; but it diedat last with a sizzling spit, and a lean black streak shot out toward thehaven of an alley's mouth. The streak was Ash-Can Sam. Omar Ben Sufi sat down in the middle of thestreet, and wondered. He had thrashed something, and he didn't understandit. So he just sat there, quivering, bleeding, battered--but a conqueror. Ringtail Pete endeavored to express himself, but emotion choked him;therefore he spat fervidly and said: "Hully gee!" Then he and the ladies descended from the roof, to walk in silent circlesaround the champion, regarding him with a species of cataleptic awe. Presently, however, Pete came to earth, extended his paw, and deliveredhimself of an established truth: "Well, dang my hide, but it takes er 'ristercrat fer to glitter in ascrap!" They escorted him all the way to his eighty-thousand-dollar home. Theladies kissed him--both of them--and helped him to clamber weakly overhis garden wall. He turned to Ringtail with an easy, aristocratic smile: "_Au revoir, _R. T. ! Those frawgs were most delicious!" "Hully gee!" breathed Pete, and disappeared through the dusk of theouter world. III Now, in the eighty-thousand-dollar cottage black sorrow reignedthroughout the night. There were tears and linguistic prayers. Therewere tinklings of little bells, while humans called shrilly tovulgar officials along the wires. From a mass of incoherence theofficials learned that some evil-hearted ruffian had entered thethirty-thousand-dollar garden and had stolen a priceless cat. Thus the outer world went hunting. So great was its zeal--so great wasthe offer of reward--that it captured every cat in town, with the oneexception, of course, of Omar Ben Sufi. This particular hero was foundnext morning, asleep, in the geranium-bed; so they bore him in, whileweepings burst forth afresh. And well they might. Poor Omar Ben was a sight to awaken pity, even in the stoniest of hearts. The number of his hairs could be counted, almost, by plus and minustufts; one eye was closed; his splendid tail was bent in several anglesunrecognized by the rules of art, and he smelled of the outerworld--horribly. His mistress expressed her grief in a noiseless, refined whimper ofdespair; the French maid shrieked, and called on Heaven to witness thedevastation of her every hope; but the master--who had lived, in spite ofhis Wall Street training--laughed. "Nonsense!" said he. "You are squandering your sympathies upon ashameless prodigal. The beast has had the time of his life, by George!" "Oh, Charles, how _can_ you?" wailed the mistress of the priceless cat. "Can't you see how the precious child is suffering?" Again the master laughed--laughed brutally. "Of course he's suffering, my dear--but look at the smile on him!"