The Highly Trained Dogs of Professor Petit (Nancy Pearl's Book Crush Rediscoveries)

by Carol Ryrie Brink

  When school was out Willie and Tip returned to the green caravan, and found that the other dogs were there, too, each having done his work satisfactorily.

  “I wish they could tell us their experiences,” Professor Petit said. “It is such a pity that they cannot speak!”

  “How are you, my friend?” said Sancho when he heard the word speak.

  “Good Sancho!” cried the professor, laying a kindly hand on Sancho’s head. “You would tell us, if you could, how you have spent your day, wouldn’t you, my friend?” The dogs all barked and wagged their tails when they heard the question in his voice.

  Beyond the trees at the other corner of the public square, Willie could see that something unusual was taking place.

  “What is going on there?” he asked. “Is someone putting up a tent?”

  “Yes,” said the professor gloomily. “Hoskins’s Circus has arrived in town. Hulk Hoskins is putting up his tent. Tomorrow he will show his tiger.”

  Hulk Hoskins traveled in a much larger caravan than Professor Petit’s. It was pulled by two horses. Mr. Hoskins also had two assistants, who were as unpleasant looking as himself. Out of the caravan the three men took a large, striped tent which they began to put up on the corner of the square nearest the post office.

  All of the people of Puddling Center came out to watch the tent go up. Two shows in town at once! It had been a long time since they had seen so much excitement.

  But Hulk Hoskins put a rope fence all around his tent, so that the people could not get too close or look inside it. If any of them tried to creep under the rope, the big gray dog, Brutus, snarled at them, so that they quickly crept back again. But even at a distance they could see the black bear that was led out of the caravan and into the tent. They could see two sad-looking monkeys that hopped along at the ends of a chain.

  “Where is the tiger?” everybody asked Hulk Hoskins, but he would not bother to answer them.

  “Be sensible,” Uncle Scrivens said to the people. “If he showed you the tiger now, you would not pay your money and go to the show. This Hoskins is a smart man. Someday I expect he will be rich.”

  “Ah, yes,” the people said. “A smart man who will be very rich.”

  They tried to peer inside the caravan, but it was dark inside and they could see nothing. Every so often, however, they could hear the tiger roar. The roar began with a kind of whirring and rasping noise, and then it would grow louder and become a great roar, and then it would fade away gradually, as if the tiger’s voice had run down, and then there would be silence.

  “Ah! the tiger is roaring!” the people said. “Listen to it! Isn’t it terrible?”

  Willie also listened when the tiger roared. He had never heard a tiger roar before, but the sound was not exactly what he had expected. “The tiger’s roar is something like the sound of a foghorn or a mechanical saw,” he said to himself. “Yes, it is very terrible, but not quite as I thought it would be.” He was more eager than ever to see the tiger.

  “Will it hurt your feelings, Professor Petit, if I go to see Hulk Hoskins’s show?” he asked.

  “No, my boy,” said the professor quietly. “Go, by all means. But keep your eyes open for anything that happens. And especially notice if there is skill and kindness in the show. Skill and kindness should be in every good show, as well as joy and art.”

  While the people of Puddling Center were in bed that night, Hulk Hoskins and his assistants must have moved the tiger from the caravan into the tent. For in the morning the sound of roaring, which occurred at intervals of ten or fifteen minutes, came from the tent instead of from the caravan.

  “I hope he is in a good strong cage,” people said. “A tiger’s claws would make short work of a canvas tent!” They were frightened as well as thrilled, and they went about their work more solemnly than ever. Only the children of Puddling Center were happy that day, but that, of course, was because they had Tip in school.

  The rest of Professor Petit’s Highly Trained Dogs went about their work as usual: Sancho to herd the farmer’s sheep, Prince to pull the baker’s cart, Grushenka to help the weaver, and Liddy to catch the miller’s rats.

  “Aren’t you afraid that Brutus will bother them, Professor?” Willie asked.

  “I truly hope not,” said Professor Petit. “Brutus will be busy guarding the tent and performing in his master’s show today. Last night he was on the prowl, but I saw to it that my own dogs were safely enclosed in my caravan during the night so that they were not in his way.”

  “How do you know he was out?”

  “I heard him sniffing about our wagon, looking for stray bones. Hulk Hoskins’s animals are only half fed and must fend for themselves, so I have heard.”

  “I hope this is not true of the tiger,” Willie said anxiously.

  “Probably not,” said Professor Petit. “The tiger is Mr. Hoskins’s greatest attraction, and I have no doubt that he is better fed than all the other animals.”

  At school that day, Willie learned to multiply by nine, to tell the difference between an isthmus and a peninsula, and to spell Constantinople. If Tip learned anything it would be difficult to say. But at recess he taught the children a new game which was something like leapfrog in a sort of over-and-under way and was called “Tip-Top.”

  After recess the children returned red-cheeked and breathless to their seats. Tip was the last one to come in, and he carried in his mouth a large red apple, which he deposited at Miss Charmian’s feet. The children roared with laughter, all except Willie, who was very much afraid that someone would be missing a large red apple from his dinner pail at noon.

  Miss Charmian flushed, and, putting the apple on her desk, she rapped three times for order. Tip trotted quietly back to his place beside Willie, but it took the children several minutes to settle down. When she could be heard, Miss Charmian said, “Children! Children! Please remember your manners. I don’t know what has come over you! And I was just about to tell you that if you work unusually well this afternoon, you will be excused a half an hour early to attend Hoskins’s Circus.”

  Instead of folding their hands and smiling politely, the children bounced in their seats and shouted, “Hooray!” But then they saw that Tip was sitting up quietly looking at Miss Charmian with great attention, so they all became quiet, too, and studied as hard as they could.

  6

  HOSKINS’S CIRCUS

  At half past two a great crowd of people had assembled in front of Hoskins’s striped tent. Every fifteen minutes or oftener the tiger could be heard roaring. Besides this there was a sound of music. One of Hoskins’s assistants turned the handle of a barrel organ which ground out a mechanical tune. No one in Hoskins’s Circus knew how to play the jaw harp as Professor Petit did, but the barrel organ, if not so artful, was at least much louder.

  The children marched down from school two by two. But instead of walking, they skipped most of the way because Tip was skipping. Willie skipped beside Miss Charmian.

  “Have you ever seen a tiger?” he asked Miss Charmian.

  “No,” she replied. “I’m just as excited as you are.”

  Besides the shilling price of admission there was a penny tax. “To pay for the oil on the flaming hoop,” explained the assistant who sold the tickets.

  “Ah, yes,” the people said, feeling in their pockets for the extra pennies.

  Willie looked across the square at Professor Petit’s green caravan, but it was closed and silent. Professor Petit was evidently inside, and the dogs had not returned from their work.

  Nobody thought to pay Tip’s way into Hoskins’s Circus, but he went sniffing and poking about the outside of the tent, until one of the assistants drove him away. When he went, he carried a loose tent peg in his mouth, and he lay down under the green caravan to chew it up before he went to sleep.

  Inside the striped tent there were rows of plank seats and a stage with red curtains hanging at the back. It was more like a theatre than a circus, Willie thought, alth
ough he could see straps and swings for some sort of aerial performance. There was a hanging lamp that made the inside of the tent as light as day.

  When the seats were filled, the red curtains parted and Hoskins himself stepped onto the stage. He was dressed very splendidly in a black uniform decorated with medals and shining gold braid. In his hand he carried a large black whip, which he cracked with a wonderful noise like the report of a gun.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Welcome to Hoskins’s Cir—” As he was speaking the tiger began to roar. Inside the tent the sound was almost deafening. The audience could not see the tiger because he was behind the red curtain, but everyone knew that he was very near. A chill went up and down Willie’s spine as he thought how near the tiger was. While the roaring continued, Hulk Hoskins stood still and waited. He looked at the audience and smiled. The light from the lamp shone on his white teeth and on the gold hoops in his ears. It shone on his medals and his gold braid. His very eyes glittered and shone with pride and triumph, and all this while the tiger roared.

  When his voice could be heard again, Hulk Hoskins went on with his speech of welcome. The speech was full of long words and flowery phrases, and Willie thought, If Professor Petit were giving this show, he would not talk about his acts, but he would let us see them.

  At last, however, Hoskins’s Circus began. With much cracking of the whip, the bear was led out at the end of a chain and made to dance. Next the two monkeys were led out and made to swing and leap about on the overhead trapeze. One of them was also able to ride a little velocipede around and around the stage. The monkey looked very sad as he rode. His small red eyes, set close together, blinked as if they were full of tears. But the people of Puddling Center were pleased and clapped their hands. “Perhaps it is because they are all so serious in Puddling Center,” Willie thought. “They do not know a happy act from a sad one. They do not see that Professor Petit’s animals are happy, whilst these animals are low-spirited and sad.”

  Next Brutus came out upon the stage, and grasped the end of a leather strap in his teeth. While the barrel organ played a polka, one of the assistants began to turn a handle which wound a rope over a pulley and around a winch. Holding on by his teeth, Brutus was gradually raised to the very top of the tent.

  Crack! went the whip. Toodle-doodle-do! went the barrel organ.

  “Ah-h-h!” said the people of Puddling Center, and Uncle Scrivens, who had a good front seat, nodded his head and said: “A modern show, a mechanical show! None of your old-fashioned foolishness here. This works like clockwork. It will make Mr. Hoskins rich!”

  The whip cracked again, and Brutus was slowly lowered to the stage. Willie could see the strength of his jaw and how his neck swelled under the brass-studded collar. Even Willie had to admire Brutus’s strength.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen!” cried Mr. Hoskins, “we are come to the supreme and super-stupendous pinnacle of our show. We are about to show you our tiger performing his magnificent and supercolossal feat of leaping through a flaming hoop.” At this moment the tiger roared again, and everyone had to wait until he was through roaring before they could hear what Hulk Hoskins said.

  The children clutched each other in pleasurable terror, and even Miss Charmian took hold of Willie’s arm as if the two of them together could bear the sight of the tiger more easily than either one alone.

  The barrel organ began to grind out a loud and exciting tune. Slowly the red curtains parted. Hulk Hoskins stepped back and picked up a hoop which had been wound in oil-soaked paper. One of the assistants took a long spill of twisted paper and lighted it at the lamp. He carried it to the stage and applied it to the hoop. The fire began to race around the hoop so that the whole thing soon burned very brightly. Hoskins cracked his whip. There was a loud whirring sound and another roar. A large orange-and-black striped body leapt from behind one red curtain, through the flaming hoop, and away behind the other red curtain, so quickly that the audience was left gasping.

  “The tiger!” they said. “We have seen the tiger!” They began to applaud very loudly. “More! More!” they cried. “We want to see it again.”

  But by now the flaming hoop had gone out and the show was over.

  In spite of having seen such an exciting thing, people somehow felt a little disappointed. Their hopes had been high, and the tiger’s appearance had been very brief.

  “Come again tomorrow, my friends,” said Hoskins, smiling his shiny smile, “if you would like to see more of the tiger.”

  Uncle Scrivens nodded his head in approval. “Hoskins is a smart man,” he said. “He knows that familiarity breeds contempt. If we had seen all we wished of the tiger, we would not come back for another performance.”

  Willie went away, wondering, but he, too, wanted to return the next day for a better view of the tiger.

  “I will go and talk with Professor Petit,” he said to himself.

  7

  EVENING CAMPFIRE

  Professor Petit was sitting by a campfire between his caravan and the river. The highly trained dogs were all assembled about him cheerfully, expecting their supper. Liddy and Tip were chasing each other and barking. Grushenka was playing with a ball. Prince was sitting up quietly, gazing into the fire, and Sancho lay beside his master sleeping, with his head resting on his paws. Sancho’s beautiful black coat was stained and dirty. His paws were covered with mud.

  “Sancho must have had a hard day,” said Professor Petit. “He is tired and dirty. It is too bad that such a highly trained dog should have to herd sheep and cows. Yet I am very thankful for the wages my dogs are earning. I have been repairing and making new costumes, and tonight we have a banquet fit for a king.”

  He lifted the lid of the cooking pot, and Willie could smell a wonderful odor of bubbling meat and vegetables. “And plenty of bones to go around after the stew is lapped up, too,” added the professor. “Of course you will dine with us, Willie, my boy?”

  “Thank you,” said Willie, “I’d admire to do so.”

  “And so you saw Hoskins’s show, Willie? Tell me frankly what you thought of it. If it is really very good I shall be glad to know it. You see, I had rather be beaten by a very good show than by a poor one.”

  “Well,” said Willie, “people seemed to enjoy the show. But I looked for the things you told me, and I did not think that it was very skillful or kind or happy. But perhaps I was not in the proper frame of mind.”

  “And the tiger?” asked the professor. “Did you see the tiger?”

  “Yes,” Willie said, “but only for an instant as he dashed through the hoop. I would like to have a chance to see him more clearly. Mr. Hoskins wants everybody to come back tomorrow to look at the tiger again.”

  “Ah,” said the professor. He stirred the stew with a long wooden spoon. He seemed to be thinking. Liddy and Tip came and sat beside the fire with their tongues hanging out and their tails wagging. They fixed their eyes on the pot of food and lifted up their noses to sniff.

  “Hoskins is a clever showman,” continued the professor. “An honest showman would let you gaze your fill at his show, but Hoskins wants you to go away unsatisfied, so that you will return and buy another ticket. But I had hoped to hear more about the tiger than this from you, Willie. There is something strange about this tiger of Hoskins’s.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Willie.

  “Well,” said the professor, “you see how my dogs make use of their noses?” He pointed to Liddy and Tip, and Willie laughed.

  “They think your stew smells like supper,” he said.

  “Dogs have a much keener sense of smell than human beings have, as you know. No matter if I had washed myself thoroughly and put on a strange suit of clothing, my dogs would recognize me by my own personal odor which I do not even recognize myself. If you were to come knocking on the caravan door in the dark of night, my dogs would sniff your odor and wag their tails because they know now that you are their friend.”

  “But what does
this have to do with the tiger?” Willie asked.

  “Just this,” said Professor Petit, “that tame animals, such as dogs and horses, are very sensitive to the odors of wild animals. Even the roan pony will not go near a tent of wild animals if he can help it, and in the past, whenever we have been near a display of lions, tigers, or other wild beasts, the dogs have been in a continual uproar of barking and growling.”

  “But tonight they are perfectly calm,” said Willie.

  “Exactly,” said Professor Petit. “That is why I am puzzled. They sniffed and barked a little at Hoskins’s bear, but it is a poor, sad animal, born in captivity and long domesticated. The tiger, roaring as it does so fearfully, is quite a different matter. With so much ferocious sound, the tiger should have a ferocious scent. Yet my dogs have not detected it. This seems strange to me. Ah, well, it is time for supper.”

  At the word supper, all of the dogs were on their feet, except Sancho. He opened his eyes and looked around, stretching his legs and yawning so that his red tongue curled up in his mouth. He seemed more tired than hungry.

  “Now, friends,” said the professor, “don’t crowd. The stew would burn your mouths at present. It’s got to cool, children, it’s got to cool.”

  “Sancho is always wise,” said Willie. “He understands that there is no use in hurrying.”

  “Sancho is very tired,” said Professor Petit. “If I did not know that he dislikes fighting, I would say he had blood on his coat. But such an idea is really absurd. He has probably had to chase after a stray sheep, and perhaps got into a bog or a swamp.”

  At mention of his name, Sancho rose slowly and came to stand with the other dogs beside the pan of stew that was cooling for them. Willie bent to examine his coat. “He has certainly got a lot of burs in it,” he said. “After supper we will have to give him a good brushing.”

  “Each dog is beginning to wear the marks of his trade,” said the professor. “Liddy and Prince have flour on their coats from mill and bakery; Grushenka has lint from the weaver’s loom sticking to her back; and Tip’s black spots are marked with chalk. It is no wonder that Sancho looks like a sheep herder.”