One cold day in December Paula and I were walking slowly along the street, studying our lessons as we walked. Suddenly we heard the piercing cries of a cat in distress. Paula, always touched by suffering of any kind, stopped to listen. Louder came the cries of the cat. "Mee-ow, mee-ow." Paula threw her grammar on a road-side bench. "Poor little thing," I cried, "we can't help him, for I can't see where he can possibly be." "Well, I can't stop here," said Paula. "Come along, we'll soon find him." We ran over to the canal which ran along a few feet below the avenue. Suddenly I was afraid! "Perhaps Joseph, the Breton's son, is mixed up in this!" I said trembling. "Come along anyway, unless you want me to go alone," Paula said quietly. So I followed her. Sure enough, it was the Breton's son surrounded by a dozen ragamuffins of his own set. They took no notice of us. He had a beautiful black cat, that had a string tied to its hind legs. The boy was swinging it around his head and at times ducking it in the canal while his companions danced around him with delight. "Now that he's good and wet, let's bury him," suggested Joseph. "Alive?" said his comrades. "Of course alive! And the old dame, his owner can--" But here Paula suddenly lunged forward, seizing the wicked youngster by the wrists with a surprising strength for one of her age. "You'll do nothing of the kind," she cried. "Let him go; do you hear me?" "Let me alone!" said the young bully as he tried to bite her. Not being able to accomplish this, he gave her a ferocious kick, which caused Paula to let go with a cry of pain. She now saw that her efforts were useless. "See here," she said to him, after a few seconds' thought, "If you give me the cat, I'll give you four cents." "Ah, you haven't got four cents." "Yes, I have; I have it here in my pocket" "All right, let me have the money." "No, no," said Paula, "if I give you my four cents first, I know you will never let me have the cat. Come, give him to me," she said beseechingly; "he's never done you any harm and you have made him suffer so much." But Joseph refused this appeal. With a diabolical grin he raised the cat again to swing it over his head. There was a meow of agony--but it was the last one! In spite of her former lack of success, Paula made one supreme effort to rescue the cat. Somehow the string got loose, the cat escaped, and was soon lost to view. Then the rage of the young ruffian knew no bounds as he turned to Paula. "Run, run!" I cried; but Joseph and his companions cut off the only path of escape. Crazy with terror, I began to yell, "Help! help!" with all my strength; but the boys drowned my cries with their own shouts. This very circumstance saved us. I saw someone coming to our help.