In the market-place they told fortunes for silver, and bought gay beads from the merchants. And the leader of the caravan wore a headdress with two horns and a curious disk betwixt the horns. There was in this singular caravan a little boy with no father or mother, but only a tiny black kitten to cherish. So the boy whom the dark people called Menes smiled more often than he wept as he sat playing with his graceful kitten on the steps of an oddly painted wagon. And when he heard these things his sobbing gave place to meditation, and finally to prayer.
Nature is full of such illusions to impress the imaginative.
That night the wanderers left Ulthar, and were never seen again. And the householders were troubled when they noticed that in all the village there was not a cat to be found. Large and small, black, grey, striped, yellow and white, none was missing. Very sleek and fat did the cats appear, and sonorous with purring content. The citizens talked with one another of the affair, and marveled not a little.