Then he noticed the tightly rolled Journal lying on the lawn. That gave him an idea. Instead of training Ribsy to fetch his father’s slippers, he would teach him to bring in the paper every night. “Fetch, Ribsy,” he said. “Fetch the paper.”
Ribsy sat thumping his tail on the lawn.
“Aw, come on.” Henry picked up the paper and held it under Ribsy’s nose. Then he threw it. Still Ribsy sat. He was used to fetching sticks, not newspapers. He turned and chewed at a flea on his back.
“Come on, you old dog.” Henry showed Ribsy the paper again. Ribsy glanced at it and settled himself with his nose on his paws. Henry threw the paper half a dozen times, but Ribsy paid no attention. Thinking how silly he must look, throwing a paper and fetching it himself while his dog watched, Henry held the Journal behind his back. With his other hand he picked up the stick. “Ribsy, look,” he ordered.
At the sight of the stick Ribsy sprang to his feet. “Wuf,” he said, wagging his tail expectantly.
Henry pretended he was going to throw the stick. Instead, he tossed the paper. Before he knew the difference, Ribsy bounded after it and caught it in his mouth.
When the dog dropped the paper at his feet, Henry patted him. “Good dog, Ribsy,” he said. “Good old Ribsy.”
Ribsy wriggled, and wagged his tail with delight. The next time Henry threw the paper, he sprang to fetch it. “Good dog,” Henry said approvingly. “I guess you’re just about the smartest dog around here.”
The next day was Sunday. Henry, who always woke up earlier than his mother and father, decided to read the funnies in the Journal, which was delivered early on Sunday morning. He tiptoed out to the porch, expecting to pick up the paper as he always did. Instead, he stood staring in horror at what he saw. There was not just one Journal on the door mat. There was a whole pile of them. Ribsy sat beside the papers, wagging his tail and looking pleased with himself.
Henry groaned. “Did you pick up all these and bring them here?” he asked Ribsy in a whisper.
Thump, thump, thump. Ribsy wagged his tail. Then he stood up and wagged his whole body.
“You old dog,” muttered Henry crossly, as he counted the papers. There were seventeen Journals on his door mat. Fortunately, the Oregonian carrier was late this morning. What if Ribsy had collected two kinds of newspapers and piled them on the door mat?
Seventeen Journals! Henry wondered how he could ever face Scooter. And now he wouldn’t get to earn the dollar. He wouldn’t get to deliver papers when Scooter went to camp during summer vacation. But worst of all was the way Scooter would behave after this. He would never, never forget that Henry’s dog had got him in trouble with his Journal customers.
Henry scowled at Ribsy, who looked puzzled because he hadn’t been praised for retrieving all those papers. Henry knew he had to think of something, and fast, too. Then he remembered that Klickitat Street was the beginning of Scooter’s route, and because it was so early, Scooter was probably still delivering papers.
“Come on, Ribsy,” he ordered, hurrying into his room. There he pulled on jeans and a sweater over his pajamas and shoved his feet into sneakers. He shut Ribsy in the room, grabbed the papers on the porch, except for one copy which he tossed into the living room, and ran down the street as fast as he could to Scooter’s house.
No one on Klickitat Street was up at that hour, and Henry was relieved to see the blinds still down on Scooter’s house. He tiptoed up the front steps and, after looking uneasily up and down the street and listening for sounds from within the house, laid the sixteen Journals on the door mat. Then he ran home as fast as he could.
After entering as quietly as he could, Henry threw himself on his bed with a gasp of relief. No one had seen him! Scooter would never know how the sixteen papers found their way back to his door mat. The dollar for the bike fund was safe.
Henry felt unusually cheerful after his narrow escape and was enjoying a second helping of hot cakes when the doorbell rang. Mr. Huggins answered it, and Henry heard Scooter say, “Here’s your paper, Mr. Huggins. I’m sorry it was late.”
Holding his breath, Henry looked at the breakfast table, strewn with the Sunday Journal.
Mr. Huggins said, “There must be some mistake, Scooter. We have our paper.”
“You have?” Scooter sounded surprised. “You’re the only people on Klickitat Street that have one.”
“Henry, where did you find the paper this morning?” asked Mr. Huggins.
“On the doormat.” Well, he had found it on the doormat. His father didn’t ask what else he had found, did he?
“It sure is funny,” repeated Scooter. “I know I delivered all the papers, but…well, thanks anyway, Mr. Huggins. It sure is funny.”
Jeepers, thought Henry. Now he had done it. Why hadn’t he thought of putting his own paper on Scooter’s doormat along with the others? Now Scooter would get suspicious and might figure out what had happened.
Mr. Huggins folded back the sport section. “Isn’t it funny that Scooter’s papers should disappear from Klickitat Street?” he remarked to no one in particular. “When I used to deliver papers when I was a kid, I had a lot of trouble with dogs stealing them.”
Henry looked sharply at his father, but Mr. Huggins appeared to be interested in the paper. “What did you do about it?” asked Henry, as if he were just making polite conversation.
“Sprinkled red pepper on the papers for a while until the dogs learned to leave them alone,” answered Mr. Huggins, pouring himself another cup of coffee.
After breakfast Henry waited until his mother had finished the dishes. Then he quietly found the can of red pepper and an old newspaper and called Ribsy out into the backyard, where he was sure Scooter couldn’t see him.
He rolled the paper, sprinkled it with red pepper, and threw it out on the grass. Ribsy ran over to it, stopped, and sniffed. He walked all the way around the paper, sniffing. Then he rolled it over with his paw before he picked it up carefully by one end and dropped it at Henry’s feet. He wagged his tail and looked pleased with himself.
“You old dog,” said Henry crossly.
Ribsy jumped up on Henry and looked so eager that Henry couldn’t help petting him. “What am I going to do with you, anyway?” he asked. Then he sprinkled pepper on the paper again and tossed it onto the grass. Ribsy bounded after it. Again he sniffed, and rolled the paper with his paw before he picked it up and carried it to Henry.
Henry had a feeling that although pepper might work with other dogs, it wasn’t going to work with Ribsy. Anyway, he couldn’t follow two paper boys around and sprinkle pepper on every single paper they delivered, could he? And then there was the Shopping News besides. He would spend all his bike fund buying pepper.
Henry sat down to think of another way to untrain Ribsy. He couldn’t keep the dog shut in the house alone very long, because he would howl and scratch on the door to get out. Mrs. Huggins didn’t like scratches on her woodwork, and the neighbors didn’t like to hear Ribsy howl. He couldn’t tie the dog up, either. It never took Ribsy long to chew through a rope or leash.
Henry tried to think what Ribsy didn’t like. He didn’t like to have his tail pulled. Henry thought about pulling his tail every time he picked up a paper, but that would hurt Ribsy. Ribsy didn’t like the egg he was supposed to eat once a week so he would have a glossy coat, but Henry didn’t see how he could give him an egg every time he stole a paper. Henry couldn’t think of anything else Ribsy didn’t like except baths. Ribsy was really a very agreeable dog.
While Henry was still trying to think of a way to untrain Ribsy, he heard Scooter calling. He quickly put the pepper and the paper inside the back door and ran around the house. What would he say if Scooter guessed?
“Hi! Sure is funny how you got a paper when nobody else on this street did, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” said Henry, wondering how he could change the subject.
“And you know what?” asked Scooter.
“What?” said Henry, knowing
very well what.
“I know I delivered those papers, and when I got home I found sixteen papers on my porch.”
“Jeepers!” Henry did his best to look surprised. Why couldn’t a fire engine or something come down Klickitat Street right now? He heard the jingle of Ribsy’s license tag. The dog trotted around the corner of the house and, after scratching, settled himself at Henry’s feet. Then he suddenly sat up and looked toward the Grumbies’ house next door.
Henry looked, too, and what he saw gave him a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. There in plain sight on the front steps lay the Grumbies’ Oregonian.
Ribsy jumped to his feet, and Henry knew he had to do something in a hurry or Ribsy would retrieve the Grumbies’ paper before Scooter’s very eyes. Shuddering at the thought of what would happen if he did, Henry hastily grabbed his dog around the neck.
“Good old Ribsy,” he said, hanging on tight. Ribsy squirmed. Henry wished as hard as he could that Scooter would go home.
“If anything happens to the papers tomorrow afternoon, I guess I better not go to Scout Camp,” said Scooter. “If I lose my route, I won’t have the money to go to camp during summer vacation.”
Henry didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to hang onto Ribsy without looking as if he were holding him. Ribsy strained toward the Grumbies’ paper. Henry turnedthe dog’s head in the opposite direction, but the minute he let go, Ribsy whimpered and tried to get at the paper.
“What’s the matter with that dog, anyway?” asked Scooter. “Why don’t you let him go?”
“He doesn’t want to go,” said Henry. “Do you, Ribsy?”
Ribsy whimpered and struggled to get out of Henry’s arms. Henry couldn’t see why Scooter had to hang around so long, anyway. Why couldn’t he go home?
Henry tried not to look at the paper on the Grumbies’ front steps, but it was all he could think about. Then the Grumbies’ front door opened, and Mr. Grumbie, wearing his bathrobe and slippers, walked sleepily out on the porch, picked up the paper, and went into the house again.
Ribsy relaxed and Henry let go of him. Whew! That was close. Henry looked anxiously up and down the street to see if he could see any other papers. Instead he saw Beezus and her little sister Ramona.
The two girls stopped in front of Henry’s house. Beezus had a handful of waxed paper. Ramona had a red plastic water pistol. She looked at Scooter, aimed, and shot a stream of water into his face. “You’re dead,” she announced.
“I am not, and you cut that out.” Scooter wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Ramona, stop that or I’ll have to take the pistol away from you,” ordered Beezus. “Henry, come on over to the park with us. I’ve got a bunch of bread wrappers to sit on when we slide on the slides.”
“OK,” said Henry promptly, more because he wanted to get away from Scooter than because he wanted to go to the park. Still, it was a long time since he had waxed the slides by sitting on a bread wrapper. “Here, Ribsy,” he called.
Ribsy bounded out of the shrubbery with his license tag jingling. In his mouth was a Shopping News, yellow with age, which he dropped at Henry’s feet. Henry didn’t have the courage to look at Scooter. Ribsy bounded into the bushes and came out with another old paper. Then he stood wagging his tail and looking at Henry.
“I thought so, Henry Huggins,” said Scooter accusingly. “I thought you knew something about my papers disappearing.”
“Well, maybe…” Henry didn’t know what to say. Now he really was in trouble. A stream of water from Ramona’s pistol hit him in the eyes. “Aw, cut it out,” he said, wiping his face. As if he didn’t have enough trouble without a little kid shooting him with a water pistol!
“I bet you trained that mutt of yours to steal papers.” Scooter was really angry. “I suppose you’re going to let him steal my papers all the time and make me lose my route.”
“No, he won’t,” promised Henry. “I’ll untrain him…”
“You better untrain him,” interrupted Scooter angrily. “And I’m going to find somebody else to take my route while I’m gone, too. I have enough trouble with papers getting in the mud and stuff, without having your old mutt going around stealing them.”
“You got the papers delivered again this morning before anybody complained, didn’t you?” asked Henry.
“Yes, because I started extra early in the first place, that’s why. But what about tomorrow, when I have to deliver them after school?”
That was just what Henry had been asking himself. What about tomorrow? He had to think of something fast if he didn’t want to lose a dollar from his bike fund. “I’ll tell you what, Scooter. You make me a list of your customers and I’ll deliver the papers tomorrow night free of charge. And if I do it right and Ribsy doesn’t take any, I get to deliver the papers while you’re gone. How about it?” Henry waited anxiously for Scooter’s answer.
“That’s fair,” said Beezus.
Scooter scowled and thought over Henry’s offer. “OK,” he said at last. “Maybe that way you’ll be sure to untrain him.”
“It’s a deal,” said Henry. Now all he had to do was figure out how to keep Ribsy from stealing papers.
Scooter started home and then turned back. “But just you remember, if you make me lose my route, I’ll, I’ll…Well, I’ll do something.”
While the two boys were arguing, Robert had joined the group in the front yard. “Scooter is pretty mad, isn’t he?” he asked. “I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.”
“Yeah.” Henry looked at the papers at his feet. “Jeepers, how am I going to get Ribsy untrained by tomorrow afternoon? Nothing I try works.”
“It’s easy,” said Robert. “You’ve got to make him afraid of what he steals. Hit him with a paper a few times and he’ll get the idea.”
“I’ll try,” said Henry, “but I bet it won’t work with Ribsy.”
“Don’t hit him too hard,” begged Beezus.
Ribsy came trotting across the lawn with an old paper in his mouth. When he dropped it at Henry’s feet, Henry picked it up and rapped him on the head with it. He didn’t hit hard enough to hurt, but just hard enough so he would get the idea. Ribsy was delighted. He growled a pretended growl and grabbed the paper. Henry hung on and so did Ribsy. Wagging his tail, the dog growled and tugged. Henry managed to yank the paper away.
This time he hit Ribsy harder. Ribsy gave a joyful bark and sprang at the paper. He snatched it from Henry and worried it. Then he settled down to chew it to pieces.
“See what I mean?” said Henry. It was bad enough to have a dog that stole papers, but it was worse to have one that chewed them to bits. Henry could see Klickitat Street strewn with chewed-up Journals and he tried to picture what Scooter would do. Whatever it was, he didn’t like to think about it.
After school the next day Henry joined Ribsy, who was waiting under the fir tree, and ran home with his dog as fast as he could. Then he changed into his after-school clothes, fixed himself some bread and peanut butter, and, after shutting Ribsy in his room, went out on the front porch to wait for Scooter.
In a few minutes Robert joined him. “Thought of anything yet?” he asked.
“No,” admitted Henry. “I shut Ribsy in the house, but he won’t stay there long.”
Ribsy appeared at the window with his front feet on the sill. He whimpered and scratched at the glass with one paw.
“Go away,” ordered Henry.
Ribsy ran to the front door, where Henry could hear him scratching on the wood. Then Mrs. Huggins opened the door and said, “Henry, you’ll just have to keep this dog outdoors with you.”
“OK, Mom,” answered Henry, looking at Robert. “See what I mean?”
Then Beezus and her little sister Ramona joined the boys on the steps. Ramona promptly shot Robert with her water pistol. “You’re dead!” she shouted.
Robert wiped his face with his sleeve. “I am not dead. I can’t be dead if I’m not playing, can I?”
Then Scooter appeared,
lugging a bundle of newspapers which he threw down on the walk in front of Henry’s house. He handed Henry a list of addresses. “Be sure you remember about Mrs. Green’s flower boxes,” he said. “And I better not get any complaints about missing papers tonight or any other night.”
“You won’t,” said Henry, but he didn’t sound very sure about it.
Ramona fired a shot at the departing Scooter. Beezus said, “Come on, we’ll help you.”
Keeping a wary eye on Ramona’s water pistol, the other three began to roll newspapers. Henry was so busy watching the pistol that he forgot to watch Ribsy. Before he knew it, the dog had snatched a paper and had begun to worry it to pieces.
“Ribsy!” yelled Henry. “Drop that!”
Ribsy shook the paper harder. Henry grabbed one end of the paper. Ribsy hung on.
Then Ramona raised her water pistol and aimed. A stream of water hit Ribsy in the face. “You’re dead!” shouted Ramona, and Ribsy dropped the paper. Looking puzzled, he backed away and shook himself.
“Hey! Did you see that?” Henry jumped up and tripped over the papers in his excitement. “Ribsy dropped the paper! Ramona made him drop the paper. Do it again, Ramona.”
“No,” said Ramona.
“Aw, come on,” coaxed Henry. “Beezus, make her shoot Ribsy again. This has just got to work.”
“No,” said Ramona.
Scooter came riding down the street on his bicycle. “You started delivering my papers yet?” he asked.
“In a minute,” said Henry. “You just wait. Everything’s going to be all right.”
“It better be.” Scooter looked threatening as he rode away. “And you better get going,” he yelled back.
Henry ran into the house and found his own plastic water pistol. After loading it at the kitchen sink, he ran outdoors and threw a paper at Ribsy. When the dog picked it up, Henry let him have a stream of water right in the face. Ribsy dropped the paper and backed away. Looking puzzled and embarrassed, he shook himself.
Henry and Beezus Page 4
