But was Moumouth shivering all this time just above the cold waters of the Seine? Oh, no, although there for a number of hours he sat all huddled up, not daring to take his life in his paws and swim to shore. But at daybreak, about five o’clock in the morning, two fishermen came to the bridge to try their luck. What good-fortune for Moumouth! As soon as the lines were let down he seized them, and the fishermen, imagining from his weight that he must be some splendid fish, hauled him quickly in. But when, instead of a fish, a cat bounded off on the bridge, they stood in astonishment for a moment, and then ran after him as fast as they could. Moumouth redoubled his speed, and escaped his pursuers by jumping through the open windows of a bakery. Here he found some bags of flour, and, tired out, he went to sleep at once. But he was so hungry that he soon woke up, and remembering his old habit of catching mice and rats when he was a gutter-cat, he sprang at the first mouse that popped its head out of a hole. Round and round the room he chased his prey, and the baker’s boy, seeing the hunt, lifted a broom to hit him as he passed, but the baker forbade him to strike Moumouth. “He is a good mouser,” he said; “he shall stay here and rid the bakery of all the rats and mice that are eating us out of house and home.” When Moumouth heard these words he grew so frightened--believing that he would never see Mother Michel again--that he sprang through the nearest window, and so escaped into the street. Here he wandered among the back-alleys until nightfall, and then he scurried home as fast as he could scamper. He hid in the garret and timidly crept behind some boxes to wait until he should hear Mother Michel moving about downstairs the next morning. All this time the household was searching still for Moumouth. The wicked Lustucru pretended to hear him crying in the garden; then, after they had vainly searched in every thicket and hedge, he would cry: “No. I’m sure that I heard him mewing in the cellar.” At last, laughing to himself, he said, “Do you know, I think he must be in the garret.” Up the long stairway Mother Michel ran, and who should come out and rub affectionately against her skirts but Moumouth! Never was any one so glad to see a cat before; and Lustucru pretended to be as happy as the old lady herself. After this Mother Michel never let Moumouth go out of her sight; she petted him nearly to death and made him sleep in her room. There was no chance for Lustucru to catch the cat alone again.