Penrod

by Booth Tarkington

  CHAPTER XXI RUPE COLLINS

  For several days after this, Penrod thought of growing up to be amonk, and engaged in good works so far as to carry some kittens (thatotherwise would have been drowned) and a pair of Margaret's outworndancing-slippers to a poor, ungrateful old man sojourning in a shedup the alley. And although Mr. Robert Williams, after a very shortinterval, began to leave his guitar on the front porch again, exactly asif he thought nothing had happened, Penrod, with his younger vision ofa father's mood, remained coldly distant from the Jones neighbourhood.With his own family his manner was gentle, proud and sad, but not forlong enough to frighten them. The change came with mystifying abruptnessat the end of the week.

  It was Duke who brought it about.

  Duke could chase a much bigger dog out of the Schofields' yard and fardown the street. This might be thought to indicate unusual valour onthe part of Duke and cowardice on that of the bigger dogs whom heundoubtedly put to rout. On the contrary, all such flights were foundedin mere superstition, for dogs are even more superstitious than boysand coloured people; and the most firmly established of all dogsuperstitions is that any dog--be he the smallest and feeblest in theworld--can whip any trespasser whatsoever.

  A rat-terrier believes that on his home grounds he can whip an elephant.It follows, of course, that a big dog, away from his own home, will runfrom a little dog in the little dog's neighbourhood. Otherwise, the bigdog must face a charge of inconsistency, and dogs are as consistent asthey are superstitious. A dog believes in war, but he is convincedthat there are times when it is moral to run; and the thoughtfulphysiognomist, seeing a big dog fleeing out of a little dog's yard, mustobserve that the expression of the big dog's face is more conscientiousthan alarmed: it is the expression of a person performing a duty tohimself.

  Penrod understood these matters perfectly; he knew that the gaunt brownhound Duke chased up the alley had fled only out of deference to acustom, yet Penrod could not refrain from bragging of Duke to thehound's owner, a fat-faced stranger of twelve or thirteen, who hadwandered into the neighbourhood.

  "You better keep that ole yellow dog o' yours back," said Penrodominously, as he climbed the fence. "You better catch him and hold himtill I get mine inside the yard again. Duke's chewed up some pretty badbulldogs around here."

  The fat-faced boy gave Penrod a fishy stare. "You'd oughta learn him notto do that," he said. "It'll make him sick."

  "What will?"

  The stranger laughed raspingly and gazed up the alley, where the hound,having come to a halt, now coolly sat down, and, with an expression ofroguish benevolence, patronizingly watched the tempered fury of Duke,whose assaults and barkings were becoming perfunctory.

  "What'll make Duke sick?" Penrod demanded.

  "Eatin' dead bulldogs people leave around here."

  This was not improvisation but formula, adapted from other occasions tothe present encounter; nevertheless, it was new to Penrod, and he wasso taken with it that resentment lost itself in admiration. Hastilycommitting the gem to memory for use upon a dog-owning friend, heinquired in a sociable tone:

  "What's your dog's name?"

  "Dan. You better call your ole pup, 'cause Dan eats LIVE dogs."

  Dan's actions poorly supported his master's assertion, for, upon Duke'sceasing to bark, Dan rose and showed the most courteous interest inmaking the little, old dog's acquaintance. Dan had a great deal ofmanner, and it became plain that Duke was impressed favourably in spiteof former prejudice, so that presently the two trotted amicably back totheir masters and sat down with the harmonious but indifferent air ofhaving known each other intimately for years.

  They were received without comment, though both boys looked at themreflectively for a time. It was Penrod who spoke first.

  "What number you go to?" (In an "oral lesson in English," Penrod hadbeen instructed to put this question in another form: "May I ask whichof our public schools you attend?")

  "Me? What number do I go to?" said the stranger, contemptuously. "Idon't go to NO number in vacation!"

  "I mean when it ain't."

  "Third," returned the fat-faced boy. "I got 'em ALL scared in THATschool."

  "What of?" innocently asked Penrod, to whom "the Third"--in a distantpart of town--was undiscovered country.

  "What of? I guess you'd soon see what of, if you ever was in that schoolabout one day. You'd be lucky if you got out alive!"

  "Are the teachers mean?"

  The other boy frowned with bitter scorn. "Teachers! Teachers don't orderME around, I can tell you! They're mighty careful how they try to runover Rupe Collins."

  "Who's Rupe Collins?"

  "Who is he?" echoed the fat-faced boy incredulously. "Say, ain't you gotANY sense?"

  "What?"

  "Say, wouldn't you be just as happy if you had SOME sense?"

  "Ye-es." Penrod's answer, like the look he lifted to the impressivestranger, was meek and placative. "Rupe Collins is the principal at yourschool, guess."

  The other yelled with jeering laughter, and mocked Penrod's manner andvoice. "'Rupe Collins is the principal at your school, I guess!'" Helaughed harshly again, then suddenly showed truculence. "Say, 'bo,whyn't you learn enough to go in the house when it rains? What's thematter of you, anyhow?"

  "Well," urged Penrod timidly, "nobody ever TOLD me who Rupe Collins is:I got a RIGHT to think he's the principal, haven't I?"

  The fat-faced boy shook his head disgustedly. "Honest, you make mesick!"

  Penrod's expression became one of despair. "Well, who IS he?" he cried.

  "'Who IS he?'" mocked the other, with a scorn that withered. "'Who IShe?' ME!"

  "Oh!" Penrod was humiliated but relieved: he felt that he had provedhimself criminally ignorant, yet a peril seemed to have passed. "RupeCollins is your name, then, I guess. I kind of thought it was, all thetime."

  The fat-faced boy still appeared embittered, burlesquing this speech ina hateful falsetto. "'Rupe Collins is YOUR name, then, I guess!' Oh, you'kind of thought it was, all the time,' did you?" Suddenly concentratinghis brow into a histrionic scowl he thrust his face within an inch ofPenrod's. "Yes, sonny, Rupe Collins is my name, and you better lookout what you say when he's around or you'll get in big trouble! YOUUNDERSTAND THAT, 'BO?"

  Penrod was cowed but fascinated: he felt that there was somethingdangerous and dashing about this newcomer.

  "Yes," he said, feebly, drawing back. "My name's Penrod Schofield."

  "Then I reckon your father and mother ain't got good sense," said Mr.Collins promptly, this also being formula.

  "Why?"

  "'Cause if they had they'd of give you a good name!" And the agreeableyouth instantly rewarded himself for the wit with another yell ofrasping laughter, after which he pointed suddenly at Penrod's righthand.

  "Where'd you get that wart on your finger?" he demanded severely.

  "Which finger?" asked the mystified Penrod, extending his hand.

  "The middle one."

  "Where?"

  "There!" exclaimed Rupe Collins, seizing and vigorously twisting thewartless finger naively offered for his inspection.

  "Quit!" shouted Penrod in agony. "QUEE-yut!"

  "Say your prayers!" commanded Rupe, and continued to twist the lucklessfinger until Penrod writhed to his knees.

  "OW!" The victim, released, looked grievously upon the still painfulfinger.

  At this Rupe's scornful expression altered to one of contrition. "Well,I declare!" he exclaimed remorsefully. "I didn't s'pose it would hurt.Turn about's fair play; so now you do that to me."

  He extended the middle finger of his left hand and Penrod promptlyseized it, but did not twist it, for he was instantly swung round withhis back to his amiable new acquaintance: Rupe's right hand operatedupon the back of Penrod's slender neck; Rupe's knee tortured the smallof Penrod's back.

  "OW!" Penrod bent far forward involuntarily and went to his knees again.

  "Lick dirt," commanded Rupe, forcing the captive's face to the si
dewalk;and the suffering Penrod completed this ceremony.

  Mr. Collins evinced satisfaction by means of his horse laugh.

  "You'd last jest about one day up at the Third!" he said. "You'd comerunnin' home, yellin' 'MOM-MUH, MOM-muh,' before recess was over!"

  "No, I wouldn't," Penrod protested rather weakly, dusting his knees.

  "You would, too!"

  "No, I w----

  "Looky here," said the fat-faced boy, darkly, "what you mean,counterdicking me?"

  He advanced a step and Penrod hastily qualified his contradiction.

  "I mean, I don't THINK I would. I----"

  "You better look out!" Rupe moved closer, and unexpectedly grasped theback of Penrod's neck again. "Say, 'I WOULD run home yellin' "MOM-muh!"'"

  "Ow! I WOULD run home yellin' 'Mom-muh.'"

  "There!" said Rupe, giving the helpless nape a final squeeze. "That'sthe way we do up at the Third."

  Penrod rubbed his neck and asked meekly:

  "Can you do that to any boy up at the Third?"

  "See here now," said Rupe, in the tone of one goaded beyond allendurance, "YOU say if I can! You better say it quick, or----"

  "I knew you could," Penrod interposed hastily, with the patheticsemblance of a laugh. "I only said that in fun."

  "In 'fun'!" repeated Rupe stormily. "You better look out how you----"

  "Well, I SAID I wasn't in earnest!" Penrod retreated a few steps. "_I_knew you could, all the time. I expect _I_ could do it to some of theboys up at the Third, myself. Couldn't I?"

  "No, you couldn't."

  "Well, there must be SOME boy up there that I could----"

  "No, they ain't! You better----"

  "I expect not, then," said Penrod, quickly.

  "You BETTER 'expect not.' Didn't I tell you once you'd never get backalive if you ever tried to come up around the Third? You want me to SHOWyou how we do up there, 'bo?"

  He began a slow and deadly advance, whereupon Penrod timidly offered adiversion:

  "Say, Rupe, I got a box of rats in our stable under a glass cover, soyou can watch 'em jump around when you hammer on the box. Come on andlook at 'em."

  "All right," said the fat-faced boy, slightly mollified. "We'll let Dankill 'em."

  "No, SIR! I'm goin' to keep 'em. They're kind of pets; I've had 'em allsummer--I got names for em, and----"

  "Looky here, 'bo. Did you hear me say we'll let 'Dan kill 'em?"

  "Yes, but I won't----"

  "WHAT won't you?" Rupe became sinister immediately. "It seems to meyou're gettin' pretty fresh around here."

  "Well, I don't want----"

  Mr. Collins once more brought into play the dreadful eye-to-eye scowl aspractised "up at the Third," and, sometimes, also by young leadingmen upon the stage. Frowning appallingly, and thrusting forward hisunderlip, he placed his nose almost in contact with the nose of Penrod,whose eyes naturally became crossed.

  "Dan kills the rats. See?" hissed the fat-faced boy, maintaining thehorrible juxtaposition.

  "Well, all right," said Penrod, swallowing. "I don't want 'em much."And when the pose had been relaxed, he stared at his new friend for amoment, almost with reverence. Then he brightened.

  "Come on, Rupe!" he cried enthusiastically, as he climbed the fence."We'll give our dogs a little live meat--'bo!"