by Hugh Lofting
“No,” said the Doctor. “It wouldn’t be possible to keep them here—andI wouldn’t keep them even if I could. If I had my way, Stubbins, therewouldn’t be a single lion or tiger in captivity anywhere in the world.They never take to it. They’re never happy. They never settle down.They are always thinking of the big countries they have left behind.You can see it in their eyes, dreaming—dreaming always of the greatopen spaces where they were born; dreaming of the deep, dark jungleswhere their mothers first taught them how to scent and track the deer.And what are they given in exchange for all this?” asked the Doctor,stopping in his walk and growing all red and angry—“What are they givenin exchange for the glory of an African sunrise, for the twilightbreeze whispering through the palms, for the green shade of the matted,tangled vines, for the cool, big-starred nights of the desert, for thepatter of the waterfall after a hard day’s hunt? What, I ask you, arethey given in exchange for _these_? Why, a bare cage with iron bars; anugly piece of dead meat thrust in to them once a day; and a crowd offools to come and stare at them with open mouths!—No, Stubbins. Lionsand tigers, the Big Hunters, should never, never be seen in zoos.”
The Doctor seemed to have grown terribly serious—almost sad. Butsuddenly his manner changed again and he took me by the arm with hissame old cheerful smile.
“But we haven’t seen the butterfly-houses yet—nor the aquariums. Comealong. I am very proud of my butterfly-houses.”
Off we went again and came presently into a hedged enclosure. Here Isaw several big huts made of fine wire netting, like cages. Inside thenetting all sorts of beautiful flowers were growing in the sun, withbutterflies skimming over them. The Doctor pointed to the end of one ofthe huts where little boxes with holes in them stood in a row.
“Those are the hatching-boxes,” said he. “There I put the differentkinds of caterpillars. And as soon as they turn into butterflies andmoths they come out into these flower-gardens to feed.”
“Do butterflies have a language?” I asked.
“Oh I fancy they have,” said the Doctor—“and the beetles too. But sofar I haven’t succeeded in learning much about insect languages. I havebeen too busy lately trying to master the shellfish-talk. I mean totake it up though.”
At that moment Polynesia joined us and said, “Doctor, there are twoguinea-pigs at the back door. They say they have run away from the boywho kept them because they didn’t get the right stuff to eat. They wantto know if you will take them in.”
“All right,” said the Doctor. “Show them the way to the zoo. Give themthe house on the left, near the gate—the one the black fox had. Tellthem what the rules are and give them a square meal—Now, Stubbins, wewill go on to the aquariums. And first of all I must show you my big,glass, sea-water tank where I keep the shellfish.”
_THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER_
MY SCHOOLMASTER, POLYNESIA
WELL, there were not many days after that, you may be sure, when I didnot come to see my new friend. Indeed I was at his house practicallyall day and every day. So that one evening my mother asked me jokinglywhy I did not take my bed over there and live at the Doctor’s housealtogether.
After a while I think I got to be quite useful to the Doctor, feedinghis pets for him; helping to make new houses and fences for the zoo;assisting with the sick animals that came; doing all manner of odd jobsabout the place. So that although I enjoyed it all very much (it wasindeed like living in a new world) I really think the Doctor would havemissed me if I had not come so often.
And all this time Polynesia came with me wherever I went, teaching mebird language and showing me how to understand the talking signs of theanimals. At first I thought I would never be able to learn at all—itseemed so difficult. But the old parrot was wonderfully patient withme—though I could see that occasionally she had hard work to keep hertemper.
Soon I began to pick up the strange chatter of the birds and tounderstand the funny talking antics of the dogs. I used to practiselistening to the mice behind the wainscot after I went to bed, andwatching the cats on the roofs and pigeons in the market-square ofPuddleby.
And the days passed very quickly—as they always do when life ispleasant; and the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months; andsoon the roses in the Doctor’s garden were losing their petals andyellow leaves lay upon the wide green lawn. For the summer was nearlygone.
One day Polynesia and I were talking in the library. This was a finelong room with a grand mantlepiece and the walls were covered from theceiling to the floor with shelves full of books: books of stories,books on gardening, books about medicine, books of travel; these Iloved—and especially the Doctor’s great atlas with all its maps of thedifferent countries of the world.
This afternoon Polynesia was showing me the books about animals whichJohn Dolittle had written himself.
“My!” I said, “what a lot of books the Doctor has—all the way aroundthe room! Goodness! I wish I could read! It must be tremendouslyinteresting. Can you read, Polynesia?”
“Only a little,” said she. “Be careful how you turn those pages—don’ttear them. No, I really don’t get time enough for reading—much. Thatletter there is a _k_ and this is a _b_.”
“What does this word under the picture mean?” I asked.
“Let me see,” she said, and started spelling it out.“B-A-B-O-O-N—that’s _Monkey_. Reading isn’t nearly as hard as it looks,once you know the letters.”
“Polynesia,” I said, “I want to ask you something very important.”
“What is it, my boy?” said she, smoothing down the feathers of herright wing. Polynesia often spoke to me in a very patronizing way. ButI did not mind it from her. After all, she was nearly two hundred yearsold; and I was only ten.
“Listen,” I said, “my mother doesn’t think it is right that I comehere for so many meals. And I was going to ask you: supposing I did awhole lot more work for the Doctor—why couldn’t I come and live herealtogether? You see, instead of being paid like a regular gardener orworkman, I would get my bed and meals in exchange for the work I did.What do you think?”
“You mean you want to be a proper assistant to the Doctor, is that it?”
“Yes. I suppose that’s what you call it,” I answered. “You know yousaid yourself that you thought I could be very useful to him.”
“Well”—she thought a moment—“I really don’t see why not. But is thiswhat you want to be when you grow up, a naturalist?”
“Yes,” I said, “I have made up my mind. I would sooner be a naturalistthan anything else in the world.”
“Humph!—Let’s go and speak to the Doctor about it,” said Polynesia.“He’s in the next room—in the study. Open the door very gently—he maybe working and not want to be disturbed.”
I opened the door quietly and peeped in. The first thing I saw was anenormous black retriever dog sitting in the middle of the hearth-rugwith his ears cocked up, listening to the Doctor who was reading aloudto him from a letter.
“What _is_ the Doctor doing?” I asked Polynesia in a whisper.
“Oh, the dog has had a letter from his mistress and he has brought itto the Doctor to read for him. That’s all. He belongs to a funny littlegirl called Minnie Dooley, who lives on the other side of the town. Shehas pigtails down her back. She and her brother have gone away to theseaside for the Summer; and the old retriever is heart-broken while thechildren are gone. So they write letters to him—in English of course.And as the old dog doesn’t understand them, he brings them here,and the Doctor turns them into dog language for him. I think Minniemust have written that she is coming back—to judge from the dog’sexcitement. Just look at him carrying on!”
Indeed the retriever seemed to be suddenly overcome with joy. As theDoctor finished the letter the old dog started barking at the top ofhis voice, wagging his tail wildly and jumping about the study. Hetook the letter in his mouth and ran out of the room snorting hard andmumbling to himself.
“He’s going down to meet the coach,” whispered
Polynesia. “That dog’sdevotion to those children is more than I can understand. You shouldsee Minnie! She’s the most conceited little minx that ever walked. Shesquints too.”
_THE TWELFTH CHAPTER_
MY GREAT IDEA
PRESENTLY the Doctor looked up and saw us at the door.
“Oh—come in, Stubbins,” said he, “did you wish to speak to me? Come inand take a chair.”
“Doctor,” I said, “I want to be a naturalist—like you—when I grow up.”
“Oh you do, do you?” murmured the Doctor. “Humph!—Well!—Dear me!—Youdon’t say!—Well, well! Have you er—have you spoken to your mother andfather about it?”
“No, not yet,” I said. “I want you to speak to them for me. You woulddo it better. I want to be your helper—your assistant, if you’ll haveme. Last night my mother was saying that she didn’t consider it rightfor me to come here so often for meals. And I’ve been thinking about ita good deal since. Couldn’t we make some arrangement—couldn’t I workfor my meals and sleep here?”
“But my dear Stubbins,” said the Doctor, laughing, “you are quitewelcome to come here for three meals a day all the year round. I’m onlytoo glad to have you. Besides, you do do a lot of work, as it is. I’veoften felt that I ought to pay you for what you do—But what arrangementwas it that you thought of?”
“Well, I thought,” said I, “that perhaps you would come and see mymother and father and tell them that if they let me live here with youand work hard, that you will teach me to read and write. You see mymother is awfully anxious to have me learn reading and writing. Andbesides, I couldn’t be a proper naturalist without, could I?”
“Oh, I don’t know so much about that,” said the Doctor. “It is nice, Iadmit, to be able to read and write. But naturalists are not all alike,you know. For example: this young fellow Charles Darwin that people aretalking about so much now—he’s a Cambridge graduate—reads and writesvery well. And then Cuvier—he used to be a tutor. But listen, thegreatest naturalist of them all doesn’t even know how to write his ownname nor to read the _A B C_.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
“He is a mysterious person,” said the Doctor—“a very mysterious person.His name is Long Arrow, the son of Golden Arrow. He is a Red Indian.”
“Have you ever seen him?” I asked.
“No,” said the Doctor, “I’ve never seen him. No white man has ever methim. I fancy Mr. Darwin doesn’t even know that he exists. He livesalmost entirely with the animals and with the different tribes ofIndians—usually somewhere among the mountains of Peru. Never stays longin one place. Goes from tribe to tribe, like a sort of Indian tramp.”
“How do you know so much about him?” I asked—“if you’ve never even seenhim?”
“The Purple Bird-of-Paradise,” said the Doctor—“she told me all abouthim. She says he is a perfectly marvelous naturalist. I got her to takea message to him for me last time she was here. I am expecting her backany day now. I can hardly wait to see what answer she has brought fromhim. It is already almost the last week of August. I do hope nothinghas happened to her on the way.”
“But why do the animals and birds come to you when they are sick?” Isaid—“Why don’t they go to him, if he is so very wonderful?”
“It seems that my methods are more up to date,” said the Doctor. “Butfrom what the Purple Bird-of-Paradise tells me, Long Arrow’s knowledgeof natural history must be positively tremendous. His specialty isbotany—plants and all that sort of thing. But he knows a lot aboutbirds and animals too. He’s very good on bees and beetles—But nowtell me, Stubbins, are you quite sure that you really want to be anaturalist?”
“Yes,” said I, “my mind is made up.”
“Well you know, it isn’t a very good profession for making money. Notat all, it isn’t. Most of the good naturalists don’t make any moneywhatever. All they do is _spend_ money, buying butterfly-nets andcases for birds’ eggs and things. It is only now, after I have been anaturalist for many years, that I am beginning to make a little moneyfrom the books I write.”
“I don’t care about money,” I said. “I want to be a naturalist.Won’t you please come and have dinner with my mother and father nextThursday—I told them I was going to ask you—and then you can talk tothem about it. You see, there’s another thing: if I’m living with you,and sort of belong to your house and business, I shall be able to comewith you next time you go on a voyage.”
“Oh, I see,” said he, smiling. “So you want to come on a voyage withme, do you?—Ah hah!”
“I want to go on all your voyages with you. It would be much easierfor you if you had someone to carry the butterfly-nets and note-books.Wouldn’t it now?”
For a long time the Doctor sat thinking, drumming on the desk with hisfingers, while I waited, terribly impatiently, to see what he was goingto say.
At last he shrugged his shoulders and stood up.
“Well, Stubbins,” said he, “I’ll come and talk it over with you andyour parents next Thursday. And—well, we’ll see. We’ll see. Give yourmother and father my compliments and thank them for their invitation,will you?”
Then I tore home like the wind to tell my mother that the Doctor hadpromised to come.
_THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER_
A TRAVELER ARRIVES
THE next day I was sitting on the wall of the Doctor’s garden aftertea, talking to Dab-Dab. I had now learned so much from Polynesia thatI could talk to most birds and some animals without a great deal ofdifficulty. I found Dab-Dab a very nice, old, motherly bird—though notnearly so clever and interesting as Polynesia. She had been housekeeperfor the Doctor many years now.
Well, as I was saying, the old duck and I were sitting on the flat topof the garden-wall that evening, looking down into the Oxenthorpe Roadbelow. We were watching some sheep being driven to market in Puddleby;and Dab-Dab had just been telling me about the Doctor’s adventures inAfrica. For she had gone on a voyage with him to that country long ago.
Suddenly I heard a curious distant noise down the road, towards thetown. It sounded like a lot of people cheering. I stood up on the wallto see if I could make out what was coming. Presently there appearedround a bend a great crowd of school-children following a very ragged,curious-looking woman.
“What in the world can it be?” cried Dab-Dab.
The children were all laughing and shouting. And certainly the womanthey were following was most extraordinary. She had very long arms andthe most stooping shoulders I have ever seen. She wore a straw hat onthe side of her head with poppies on it; and her skirt was so long forher it dragged on the ground like a ball-gown’s train. I could not seeanything of her face because of the wide hat pulled over her eyes. Butas she got nearer to us and the laughing of the children grew louder,I noticed that her hands were very dark in color, and hairy, like awitch’s.
Then all of a sudden Dab-Dab at my side startled me by crying out in aloud voice,
“Why, it’s Chee-Chee!—Chee-Chee come back at last! How dare thosechildren tease him! I’ll give the little imps something to laugh at!”
And she flew right off the wall down into the road and made straightfor the children, squawking away in a most terrifying fashion andpecking at their feet and legs. The children made off down the streetback to the town as hard as they could run.
The strange-looking figure in the straw hat stood gazing after them amoment and then came wearily up to the gate. It didn’t bother to undothe latch but just climbed right over the gate as though it weresomething in the way. And then I noticed that it took hold of the barswith its feet, so that it really had four hands to climb with. But itwas only when I at last got a glimpse of the face under the hat that Icould be really sure it was a monkey.
A traveler arrives]
Chee-Chee—for it was he—frowned at me suspiciously from the top of thegate, as though he thought I was going to laugh at him like the otherboys and girls. Then he dropped into the garden on the inside andimmediately started
taking off his clothes. He tore the straw hat intwo and threw it down into the road. Then he took off his bodice andskirt, jumped on them savagely and began kicking them round the frontgarden.
Presently I heard a screech from the house, and out flew Polynesia,followed by the Doctor and Jip.
“Chee-Chee!—Chee-Chee!” shouted the parrot. “You’ve come at last! Ialways told the Doctor you’d find a way. How ever did you do it?”
They all gathered round him shaking him by his four hands, laughing andasking him a million questions at once. Then they all started back forthe house.
“Run up to my bedroom, Stubbins,” said the Doctor, turning to me.“You’ll find a bag of peanuts in the small left-hand drawer of thebureau. I have always kept them there in case he might come backunexpectedly some day. And wait a minute—see if Dab-Dab has any bananasin the pantry. Chee-Chee hasn’t had a banana, he tells me, in twomonths.”
When I came down again to the kitchen I found everybody listeningattentively to the monkey who was telling the story of his journey fromAfrica.
_THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER_
CHEE-CHEE’S VOYAGE
It seems that after Polynesia had left, Chee-Chee had grown morehomesick than ever for the Doctor and the little house in Puddleby. Atlast he had made up his mind that by hook or crook he would follow her.And one day, going down to the seashore, he saw a lot of people, blackand white, getting on to a ship that was coming to England. He tried toget on too. But they turned him back and drove him away. And presentlyhe noticed a whole big family of funny people passing on to the ship.And one of the children in this family reminded Chee-Chee of a cousinof his with whom he had once been in love. So he said to himself, “Thatgirl looks just as much like a monkey as I look like a girl. If Icould only get some clothes to wear I might easily slip on to the shipamongst these families, and people would take me for a girl. Good idea!”
