On and on he went nearer and nearer to the crouching cat. If only the animal would have sense enough to lie still and not make a fuss when he picked it up, Joe felt that all would be well.
But would Peter behave? That was the question.
Joe was now almost over the middle of the street. Far below him was the crowd—a sea of upturned faces, reddened by the reflected rays of the setting sun. The throng was silent. Joe was glad of that.
"Keep still now, Peter, I'm coming for you!" said Joe in a low voice.
"That's right, Peter!" added the woman. "Be a good cat now. You are going to be saved! Keep still and don't scratch!"
Whether the cat heard and understood it is hard to say. But it uttered a pitiful:
"Mew!"
Inch by inch, foot by foot Joe advanced. He was quite sure of himself now. He felt that he could easily have walked across the wire from building to building, with the street chasm below him, and even could have made the return trip. But picking up the cat and carrying it back was another thing. It would have been easier for Joe to have carried a man across on his back. He could direct the motions of the man. Could he those of the cat?
Still he was going to try.
On and on he went. The woman in black was leaning from the window, holding out her arms as though to catch Joe should he fall.