companions are lost by the big
man-trap, he takes good care never to go near it himself."

"Not a whit!" exclaimed Furry, with a scornful whisk of his tail. "They
like the bait, though they know its effects quite well. They walk with
open eyes into the great man-trap, they hasten merrily into the great
man-trap, when the gas-lights are flaring, and the spirits flowing, and
the sound of laughter and jesting is heard within! They know that they
are going the straight, direct way to be worried by sickness, poverty,
and shame, (what these are I never heard clearly explained, but I have
gathered that they are great enemies of man, who are always waiting at
the door of the great man-trap,) and yet they go gaily to their ruin!"

"So this is your account of the wise creature man!" I exclaimed; "he is
a great deal more foolish than any rat!"

CHAPTER III.

POORER THAN RATS.

We had not our shed always to ourselves. One cold evening in autumn,
when there was a sharp east wind, and a drizzling rain, two human
creatures came into the place and cowered down in a corner of our shed.
I call them human creatures, for they certainly were not men; they were
so different from the tall powerful fellows whom I had occasionally seen
at their work in the warehouse. These were much smaller, and so thin
that their bones seemed almost ready to break through the skin. Their
hair hung in long loose masses about their ears. They had nothing on
their feet to protect them from the stones, and one of them had a hurt
upon his heel, which looked red and inflamed.

I found that these were young human beings, neglected and uncared for,
as young rats would not have been. We were at first afraid of them, and
only peered out curiously upon them from our holes and hiding-places;
but when, gathering courage, we ventured to come forward, we seemed to
frighten them as much as they had frightened us.

"Look there-- there, Bob!" screamed the younger child, clinging more
closely to his brother.

"Them bees rats," said the other one more quietly. His poor thin little
face looked as if the life and spirit had been so starved out of it,
that he could not be much astonished at anything.

"I don't like staying here, Bob, amongst the rats!" cried the terrified
little one, attempting to pull his brother towards the entrance by the
sleeve of his jacket. The wretched rag gave way even under his weak
pull, and another rent was added to the many by which the