Willie ran to the back of the tent and propped up the flap where the tent pegs were missing. He could see Prince and Grushenka running up from the river, carrying buckets of water which they emptied into the red fire cart. At the cry of “Fire!” and the activity of the dogs, the pony had left his daisies and buttercups and was eagerly pawing the ground beside the red fire cart. Willie ran across the square and slipped the harness over the pony’s head. Liddy hopped to her place beside the ladders and Grushenka jumped up beside the pump. Prince dashed away again to the river with the empty pail in his mouth.
Now Willie caught the pony’s bridle and ran with him toward the burning tent. The bell on the red cart clanged; the pony trotted. Excited and eager, Liddy and Grushenka clung to the cart as it jogged across the square. Oh, for Sancho’s help now! If only Prince could carry enough water to keep the pump filled!
By now the top of the tent was burning briskly. A glance showed Willie that the people were all safely out, but he could still hear the chattering of the monkeys and the growling of the bear. They were chained behind the red curtains and could not help themselves. They must certainly be saved, and also the tiger. Willie’s mind was in a hopeless state of confusion. Was there a tiger after all? And was he worth saving?
There was no time to be lost now in speculation. Willie halted the pony as near to the burning tent as possible. This was not such an easy matter as extinguishing the fire in the little house. Here Liddy and Grushenka could not manage the ladder by themselves. Willie had to raise it and hold it in position for Liddy to climb. She began to climb, as he held the ladder, carrying the nozzle of the hose in her mouth. Grushenka began to pump. Prince came running from the river with another bucket of water suspended from his mouth. The water splashed into the tank on the red cart, as Prince tipped it up.
“Someone must help him get water,” Willie called to the crowd which was beginning to gather around them. As he spoke he heard more water splashing into the tank, and, looking around, he saw that another dog had taken Sancho’s bucket and was helping Prince to keep the tank filled. With the greatest astonishment, Willie recognized Brutus. Brutus and Prince were working side by side without snarling or quarreling.
People from nearby houses now began to arrive with buckets to help the two dogs. Grushenka bobbed up and down at the pump. Out of the hose came a stream of water. Liddy held it firmly pointed at the flaming tent as she stood at the top of her ladder. There was a hiss and a crackle, a crackle and a hiss as water and fire met. Smoke began to replace the flame. Gradually the fire came under control. The tent was blackened and charred, but the flames had been stopped before they reached the trapped animals.
As soon as he could safely lower Liddy’s ladder, Willie ran to the back of the stage, and parted the scorched red curtains. He flung them wide so that everyone could see. There were the poor, sad monkeys, chattering with fear; there was the bear, pacing back and forth and straining at the end of his chain. There was the tiger—Willie stepped back at the sight of him, for he was not confined in a cage. But the tiger did not move, and slowly Willie began to go toward him. The tiger’s mouth was open, showing sharp teeth; there was a faint gleam in his eye. But no sound came out of the mouth, and the eyes did not move.
Willie took another step forward and put his hand on the tiger’s head. Yes, the fur was real, but the eyes were made of glass, and the tiger’s skin had been stuffed with straw. Willie’s eye ran down the striped back and he saw that the tail was missing. A short bark at his side made him look down, and there sat Tip, looking up at Willie with something like a smile. One ear was cocked up and one down, and from Tip’s mouth there still hung a remnant of the tiger’s tail.
People began to gather from all sides now, looking at the stuffed tiger with anger and astonishment. “But we heard it roar!” they said.
Willie saw a mechanical device on the other side of the tiger which looked something like a music box. A handle stuck out of it, and now Willie gave the handle several turns. First there was a kind of whirring sound, and then the roar began. It was the roar which had so often struck terror into their hearts. At first the people stepped back in alarm. Then, seeing that the noise did not really come out of the tiger’s mouth, they crowded close again.
“But he jumped through a hoop!” they cried. “We saw him jump through a hoop!”
Willie was puzzled, too. He had certainly seen the tiger jump through the flaming hoop with his own eyes. He walked all around the stuffed tiger, looking very carefully. Suddenly he noticed a lever which he took hold of and pulled sharply back. As he did so, a spring was released, and the mechanical tiger leapt forward in a half arc to the other side of the stage. If one saw it leap from curtain to curtain with the flaming hoop to dazzle the eyes, one would not know whether it had actually passed through the hoop or not, and the mechanical figure would certainly have given the appearance of being alive.
Suddenly Willie began to laugh. But the serious people of Puddling Center were not amused.
“Where is Hulk Hoskins?” they cried. “We’ll tear him limb from limb! Where are his two assistants? They have tricked and defrauded us. They have taken our money, and worst of all, they have been laughing up their sleeves at us.”
Hulk Hoskins and his two assistants had escaped during the confusion of the fire. They were nowhere to be seen. Their caravan and two horses had also vanished.
15
FARMER OLNEY AGAIN
Just at this moment, when everyone was calling in vain for Hulk Hoskins, Farmer Olney came driving up to the tent in his high, two-wheeled cart. He was so full of some business of his own that he scarcely noticed the half-ruined tent and the excited crowd.
“Tell Hulk Hoskins to come out here,” he bellowed. “I’ve business with this here Hoskins and his wicked dog. Send him out and let me talk to him.”
“He’s gone!” everybody cried. “Hoskins is gone. We can’t find him.”
“Then where’s his dog?” the farmer roared. “Another of my sheep’s been killed, and Sancho couldn’t have done it, because Sancho’s still in jail.”
Willie looked around quickly and he saw that Brutus, with Sancho’s bucket still near him, was sitting peaceably beside Prince and Grushenka as if he belonged in Professor Petit’s troupe. He was just trying to scratch a bur from behind one ear as Willie looked at him.
“There’s your culprit!” several people said. “There’s Hulk Hoskins’s dog!”
“By gum! He shall be shot!” cried Farmer Olney. “He’s got a bur behind his ear, and I’d swear he’s got a tag of sheep’s wool sticking to that fancy collar of his!”
“Shoot Brutus!” everybody cried.
Willie thought very quickly. He could see that the serious people of Puddling Center were about to vent their anger at Hoskins upon his dog. It was probably true that Brutus had killed the farmer’s sheep, but he had been hungry and ill-treated. Willie remembered what Professor Petit had said about a dog reflecting the character of his master.
“Just a minute,” Willie cried, putting his hand on Brutus’s collar so that he could not get away, and so that no one would harm him. “Remember that you are holding an innocent man and his dog in jail. Let Professor Petit out of jail, and he will tell us what we had better do with Brutus.”
In a moment half of Puddling Center was on its way to the jail to release Professor Petit and Sancho.
The highly trained dogs ran ahead of Willie, frisking and barking. Even Brutus trotted along, willingly enough, at the end of a leash.
Professor Petit and Sancho were looking anxiously out of the prison window. They had heard the cries of “Fire!”, the clang of the bell on the red cart, the angry cries of the crowd. But from the high side window they could not see what was happening. Now, as the voices of the crowd drew near, they began to feel alarmed for their own safety.
“Justice!” Farmer Olney was shouting, and other voices cried out, “Let us have justice.”
“Well,” said Prof
essor Petit to Sancho, “I only hope that ‘justice’ means doing the right thing by you and me, dear friend.” Sancho barked a very cheerful reply, for just at that moment he had caught sight of the other highly trained dogs running ahead of the crowd. The four dogs began to leap over each other’s backs and turn somersaults and roll over to show that they brought good news.
The jailer turned the great key in the lock and fetched the showman and his dog down from their cell.
“You are free, Professor Petit!” cried Willie. “Another of Farmer Olney’s sheep has been killed, and, since Sancho was locked in jail, the farmer knows that Sancho could not have done it.”
“It was this here Brutus all right!” cried Farmer Olney. “I’ll have him shot, and I’ll tan his blasted hide to make me a door mat.”
“Not so fast, my good man,” said Professor Petit. Willie saw that his friend the showman had already regained his poise and assurance, now that the prison walls lay behind him. “Not so fast, Mr. Olney; you have been very hasty about this whole matter.”
“But I’ve lost three sheep!” wailed the farmer.
“That is true,” said Professor Petit, “and you must certainly be repaid. But let us not replace one mistake by another because of haste. I see that you have captured Brutus. But where is Hulk Hoskins?”
It was explained to Professor Petit how the tent had caught fire, how the tiger had been exposed as a fraud, and how Hulk Hoskins and his two assistants had run away to escape the fury of the people.
Professor Petit thought for a few moments. His five dogs sat around him with their eyes fixed trustfully on his face. Brutus, too, came as close to Professor Petit as his leash would allow, and looked up into his face. The people of Puddling Center waited to hear what the professor would say.
“I think,” said Professor Petit at last, “that we must indeed blame Brutus for the loss of Mr. Olney’s sheep. But I should like to say this in his behalf, that he had a cruel master who did not teach him good manners nor give him enough to eat. An animal does not understand the difference between good and evil as a man does. Therefore we must not blame him too greatly, if he behaves no better than his master. Tell me, did Mr. Hoskins give you your money back, when you found out that the tiger was a fraud?”
“Our money!” cried the people of Puddling Center. “Where is our money?”
When they had hunted all over the half-burned tent and the place where Hoskins’s caravan had stood without finding the box that contained their shillings and pennies, it was concluded that the dishonest showman had taken the money away with him.
Uncle Scrivens shook his head and said: “A smart man, Hoskins! But I can’t help liking Professor Petit better.”
Runners were dispatched in every direction to hunt for Hulk Hoskins, but by that time he was far ahead of them, and neither he, nor his two assistants, nor the bulk of the money that he had collected were ever seen again.
While the people were still hunting, however, one bag of the money was found. Tip came dragging it in, and it was all that he could do to pull it along beside him. His ears were cocked up with pride and his tail waved like a flag. Evidently the villains had dropped the bag in their flight, and Tip had discovered it as it lay by the wayside.
Professor Petit counted out the money in the bag and it came to nineteen dollars and fifty-four pence.
“Now,” the professor said to the people of Puddling Center, “I could divide this money, which Tip has found, among all of you, but it would not begin to repay you for the money you paid to buy tickets to Hoskins’s Circus. It is true that the circus turned out to be a fraud, and yet I am sure that you all had your money’s worth of pleasure and excitement before you discovered that the tiger was stuffed with straw. Isn’t this true?”
“Yes,” the people admitted. “It was a very exciting week with two shows in town and all things else considered.”
“Then,” said the professor, “I should like to propose that we give this money to Farmer Olney to recompense him for the loss of his sheep. If he will forget his mental anguish, and will accept the remains of the tent, the plank seats, the hoop, and the red curtains as additional payment for the sheep, I believe that he will be amply rewarded.”
Farmer Olney thought about this for a moment, scratching his head as he did so. He came to the conclusion that the offer was a fair one.
“But what about that dog?” he asked. “Won’t he go right on chasing my sheep?”
“I believe not,” said Professor Petit, “but, before we dispose of Brutus, let us consider the fate of the bear and the two monkeys.”
The monkeys sat huddled together with their arms entwined. Occasionally one would pluck a flea from the fur of the other and crack it between his teeth. The bear sat up on his hind legs and mournfully rattled his chains.
“You could add them to your show,” suggested Uncle Scrivens. “’Twould be a smart thing to do. You might get rich.”
“No,” said Professor Petit. “These are sad and unhappy animals. They need a permanent home among people who will be kind to them and help them to become happy again.”
“Happy monkeys make folks laugh,” said Willie, remembering something he had read about monkeys, who leapt about and swung by their tails.
“You are right, Willie,” said Professor Petit, “and that brings me to my second point. Puddling Center is a very serious place. It has a jail, a courthouse, a post office, but nothing to make it laugh. It needs a zoo, and it needs the responsibility and pleasure of making animals happy in that zoo. The animals in turn will make the serious people of Puddling Center laugh. It will be a benefit all around.”
While Uncle Scrivens, the judge, the miller, the weaver, and the baker hesitated, thinking this idea over, the children began to shout and beg.
“A zoo!” they cried. “We want a zoo!”
“It must be a large zoo,” said Miss Charmian in her clear voice, “with lots of trees and grass and a warm little house for the winter. There will be no chains, of course, and there will be plenty of bananas and carrots and huckleberries to eat—”
“Yes! Yes!” cried the children.
In this way the matter was decided, quite simply and easily, and to the satisfaction of everybody.
16
A FEW LAST WORDS
But how do you profit by all of this, Professor?” asked Uncle Scrivens. “Surely there is something that you want for yourself. How about the tiger? You could go on showing him as Hoskins did. Just think of the money you would make!”
“No,” replied the professor. “Mechanical things do not appeal to me. Perhaps I am old-fashioned, but I love to feel the breath of life in everything that surrounds me. Mechanical things are clever, but we must never pretend that they are as good as living things. And so the mechanical tiger may go on the junk heap as far as I am concerned. But I will take Brutus, if it is agreeable to all of you. I believe that I can make an honest and a clever dog of him, if I have a little time to train and educate him.”
To Willie’s surprise, he saw that Brutus was licking Professor Petit’s outstretched hand.
And now the green caravan will be moving on, thought Willie to himself. How shall I ever bear to say good-bye to these dear friends of mine? His face must have looked very downcast, for Professor Petit took him gently by the arm.
“Come along to the caravan, Willie,” he said. “We’ll talk things over, whilst I prepare the stew.”
The dogs were all tired by the activities of the day. They lay about the fire with their heads resting on their outstretched paws. Tip even snored a little in his sleep. Brutus lay among them, as if he had always belonged to the troupe, and the other dogs seemed to accept him because their master did. There was a good odor of birch smoke and of cooking meat and vegetables on the evening air.
“You will not have to worry about the tiger anymore,” Willie said. “The highly trained dogs will be the only show on the road, as well as the best one. Will you be leaving soon?”
“Early tomorrow morning,” Professor Petit replied.
“Where will you go first?” Willie asked. His voice was tinged with sadness, although he tried hard to keep it cheerful.
“I figure to stop first at Wickersham,” said Professor Petit briskly.
“Why, that’s where I used to live!” said Willie in surprise. “My mother and my six brothers and sisters live near Wickersham.”
“I know,” said Professor Petit. “That’s why we’re going there, of course.”
“We—?” faltered Willie.
“My dear Willie,” said the professor, “the dogs and I would be very lonely without you, now that you have helped us through our days of distress. Surely you should also share in the success that I expect is coming to us. I thought that if you would come along with us as far as Wickersham, where we shall give our first show, we could see your mother and get her permission for you to join our troupe. I would pay you as fair a wage as our future success permits, and I would undertake your education as well. With all due respect to Miss Charmian, who is a most pleasant lady and who spoke out with great good sense on at least two important occasions—” (The professor cleared his throat here and looked as modest as it is possible for a brisk man to look.) “With all due respect to Miss Charmian, I say, I believe that you will find in Professor Pierre Petit a teacher of even wider knowledge.”
Willie felt his heart beating more rapidly. To go with Professor Petit and the highly trained dogs on their travels! Nothing could possibly have pleased him more. But one thing still bothered him.
“But what will my uncle Scrivens do without a boy to run errands? And the miller, the baker, the weaver, and the farmer?”
“Liddy has cleared all the rats and mice out of the mill for the present,” said Professor Petit, “and, if they return, the miller has only to turn the handle of the tiger’s roaring machine to frighten them away. After all of his bad luck with his sheep, I believe that the farmer will prefer to do his own herding from now on. As for the baker, the weaver, and your uncle Scrivens, haven’t you another brother, Willie, who might like to come to Puddling Center for a start in life?”
The Highly Trained Dogs of Professor Petit (Nancy Pearl's Book Crush Rediscoveries) Page 8
