Doctor Dolittle's Circus

The First Chapter The Fireside Circle

This is the story of that part of Doctor Dolittle's adventures which came about through his joining and traveling with a circus. He had not planned in the beginning to follow this life for any considerable time. His intention had only been to take the pushmi–pullyu out on show long enough to make sufficient money to pay the sailor back for the boat which had been borrowed and wrecked.

But a remark Too–Too had made was true; it was not so hard for John Dolittle to become rich—for indeed he was easily satisfied where money was concerned—but it was a very different matter for him to remain rich. Dab–Dab used to say that during the years she had known him he had, to her knowledge, been quite well off five or six times; but that the more money he had, the sooner you could expect him to be poor again.

Dab–Dab's idea of a fortune was not of course very large. But certainly during his experience with the circus the Doctor repeatedly had enough money in his pockets to be considered well to do; and, as regular as clockwork, by the end of the week or the month he would be penniless again.

Well, the point from which we are beginning, then, is where the Dolittle party (Jip the dog, Dab–Dab the duck, Too–Too the owl, Gub–Gub the pig, the pushmi–pullyu and the white mouse) had returned at last to the little house in Puddleby–on–the–Marsh after their long journey from Africa. It was a large family to find food for. And the Doctor, without a penny in his pockets, had been a good deal worried over how he was going to feed it, even during the short time they would be here before arrangements were made to join a circus. However, the thoughtful Dab–Dab had made them carry up from the pirates' ship such supplies as remained in the larder after the voyage was done. These, she said, should last the household—with economy—for a day or two at least.

The animals' delight had at first, on getting back home, banished every care or thought of the morrow from the minds of all—except Dab–Dab. That good housekeeper had gone straight to the kitchen and set about the cleaning of pots and the cooking of food. The rest of them, the Doctor included, had gone out into the garden to re–explore all the well–known spots. And they were still roaming and poking around every nook and corner of their beloved home when they were suddenly summoned to luncheon by Dab–Dab's dinner–bell—a frying pan beaten with a spoon. At this there was a grand rush for the back door. And they all came trundling in from the garden, gabbling with delight at the prospect of taking a meal again in the dear old kitchen where they had in times past spent so many jolly hours together.

"It will be cold enough for a fire to–night," said Jip as they took their places at the table. "This September wind has a chilly snap in it. Will you tell us a story after supper, Doctor? It's a long time since we sat around the hearth in a ring."

"Or read to us out of your animal story books," said Gub–Gub, "the one about the Fox who tried to steal the King's goose."

"Well, maybe," said the Doctor. "We'll see. We'll see. What delicious sardines these are that the pirates had! From Bordeaux, by the taste of them. There's no mistaking real French sardines."

At this moment the Doctor was called away to see a patient in the surgery—a weasel who had broken a claw. And he was no sooner done with that when a rooster with a sore throat turned up from a neighboring farm. He was so hoarse, he said, he could only crow in a whisper, and nobody on his farm woke up in the morning. Then two pheasants arrived to show him a scrawny chick which had never been able to peck properly since it was born.

"He could only crow in a whisper"

For, although the people in Puddleby had not yet learned of the Doctor's arrival, news of his coming had already spread among the animals, and the birds. And all that afternoon he was kept busy bandaging, advising and physicking, while a huge motley crowd of creatures waited patiently outside the surgery door.

"Ah me!—just like old times," sighed Dab–Dab. "No peace. Patients clamoring to see him morning, noon and night."

Jip had been right: by the time darkness came that night it was very chilly. Wood enough was found in the cellar to start a jolly fire in the big chimney. Round this the animals gathered after supper and pestered the Doctor for a story or a chapter from one of his books.

"But look here," said he. "What about the circus? If we're going to make money to pay the sailor back we've got to be thinking of that. We haven't even found a circus to go with yet. I wonder what's the best way to set about it. They travel all over the place, you know. Let me see: who could I ask?"

"Sh!" said Too–Too. "Wasn't that the front door bell ringing?"

"Strange!" said the Doctor, getting up from his chair "Callers already?"

"Perhaps it's the old lady with rheumatism," said the white mouse as the Doctor walked out into the hall. "Maybe she didn't find her Oxenthorpe doctor was so very good after all."

When John Dolittle had lit the candles in the hall he opened the front door. And there standing on the threshold was the Cat's–Meat–Man.

"Why, it's Matthew Mugg, as I'm alive!" he cried. "Come in Matthew, come in. But how did you know I was here?"

"'Why, it's Matthew Mugg!'"

"I felt it in my bones, Doctor," said the Cat's–Meat–Man, stumping into the hall. "Only this morning I says to my wife, 'Theodosia,' I says, 'something tells me the Doctor's got back. And I'm going up to his house to–night to take a look.'"

"Well, I'm glad to see you," said John Dolittle. "Let's go into the kitchen where it's warm."

Although he said he had only come on the chance of finding the Doctor, the Cat's–Meat–Man had brought presents with him: a knuckle bone off a shoulder of mutton for Jip; a piece of cheese for the white mouse; a turnip for Gub–Gub and a pot of flowering geraniums for the Doctor. When the visitor was comfortably settled in the armchair before the fire John Dolittle handed him the tobacco–jar from the mantelpiece and told him to fill his pipe.

"I got your letter about the sparrow," said Matthew. "He found you all right, I s'pose."

"Yes, and he was very useful to me. He left the ship when we were off the Devon coast. He was anxious to get back to London."

"Are you home for a long stay now?"

"Well—yes and no," said the Doctor. "I'd like nothing better than to enjoy a few quiet months here and get my garden to rights. It's in a shocking mess. But unfortunately I've got to make some money first."

"Humph," said Matthew, puffing at his pipe. "Meself*, I've bin trying to do that all my life—Never was very good at it. But I've got twenty–five shillings saved up, if that would help you."

"It's very kind of you, Matthew, very. The fact is I—er—I need a whole lot of money. I've got to pay back some debts. But listen: I have a strange kind of new animal—a pushmi–pullyu. He has two heads. The monkeys in Africa presented him to me after I had cured an epidemic for them. Their idea was that I should travel with him in a circus—on show, you know. Would you like to see him?"

"I surely would," said the Cat's–Meat–Man. "Sounds like something very new."

"He's out in the garden," said the Doctor. "Don't stare at him too hard. He isn't used to it yet. Gets frightfully embarrassed. Let's take a bucket of water with us and just pretend we've brought him a drink."

When Matthew came back into the kitchen with the Doctor he was all smiles and enthusiasm.

"Why, John Dolittle," said he, "you'll make your fortune—sure as you're alive! There's never bin anything seen like that since the world began. And anyway, I always thought you ought to go into the circus business—you, the only man living that knows animal language. When are you going to start?"

"That's just the point. Perhaps you can help me. I'd want to be sure it was a nice circus I was going with—people I would like, you understand."

Matthew Mugg bent forward and tapped the Doctor on the knee with the stem of his pipe.

"I know the very concern you want," said he. "Right now over at Grimbledon there's the nicest little circus you ever saw. Grimbledon Fair's on this week and they'll be there till Saturday. Me and Theodosia saw 'em the first day they was on. It isn't a large circus but it's a good one—select like. What do you say if I take you over there to–morrow and you have a chat with the ringmaster?"

"Why that would be splendid," said the Doctor. "But in the meantime don't say anything to anyone about the idea at all. We must keep the pushmi–pullyu a secret till he is actually put on show before the public."

The Second Chapter The Doctor Meets a Friend―and a Relative

Now, Matthew Mugg was a peculiar man. He loved trying new jobs —which was one reason, perhaps, that he never made much money. But his attempts to get into some new kind of work usually ended in his coming back to selling cat's meat and rat–catching for farmers and millers around Puddleby.

Matthew had already at Grimbledon Fair tried to get a job with the circus and been refused. But now that he found the Doctor was going into the business—and with such a wonderful exhibition as a pushmi–pullyu—his hopes rose again. And as he went home that night he already in imagination saw himself in partnership with his beloved Doctor, running the biggest circus on earth.

Next day he called at the little house early. After Dab–Dab had made them up some sardine sandwiches to take with them for lunch, they set out.

It was a long walk from Puddleby to Grimbledon. But after the Doctor and the Cat's–Meat–Man had been trudging down the road a while they heard a sound of hoofs behind them. They turned round; and there was a farmer coming toward them in a trap. Seeing the two travelers upon the road, the farmer was going to offer them a ride. But his wife did not like the ragged looks of the Cat's–Meat–Man, and she forbade her husband to stop for them.

"What d'yer think of that for Christian charity?" said the Cat's–Meat–Man as the cart went spinning by them. "Sit comfortable in their seats and leave us to walk! That's Isidore Stiles, the biggest potato–grower in these parts. I often catches rats for him. And his wife, the snobby old scarecrow! Did yer see that look she gives me? A rat–catcher ain't good enough company for her!"

"But look," said the Doctor. "They're stopping and turning the trap around."

Now this farmer's horse knew the Doctor very well both by sight and reputation. And as he had trotted by he had recognized the little man tramping along the road as none other than the famous John Dolittle. Delighted to find that his friend had returned to these parts, the horse had then turned around of his own accord, and was now trotting back—in spite of his driver's pulling—to greet the Doctor and inquire for his health.

"Where are you going?" asked the horse as he came up.

"We're going to Grimbledon Fair," said the Doctor.

"So are we," said the horse. "Why don't you get into the back of the trap beside the old woman?"

"They haven't invited me," said the Doctor. "See your farmer is trying to turn you around again toward Grimbledon. Better not anger him. Run along. Don't bother about us. We'll be all right."

Very unwillingly the horse finally obeyed the driver, turned about and set off once more for the fair. But he hadn't gone more than half a mile before he said to himself, "It's a shame the great man should have to walk, while these bumpkins ride. I'm hanged if I'll leave him behind!"

Then he pretended to shy at something in the road, swung the trap around again suddenly and raced back toward the Doctor at full gallop. The farmer's wife screamed and her husband threw all his weight on the reins. But the horse took not the slightest notice. Reaching the Doctor he started rearing and bucking and carrying on like a wild colt.

"Get into the trap, Doctor," he whispered. "Get in, or I'll spill these boobies into the ditch."

The Doctor, fearing an accident, took hold of the horse's bridle and patted him on the nose. Instantly he became as calm and gentle as a lamb.

"The Doctor took hold of the bridle"

"Your horse is a little restive, sir," said the Doctor to the farmer. "Would you let me drive him for a spell? I am a veterinary surgeon."

"Why, certainly," said the farmer. "I thought I knew something about horses meself. But I can't do a thing with him this morning."

Then, as the Doctor climbed up and took the reins, the Cat's–Meat–Man got in behind and, chuckling with delight, sat beside the indignant wife.

"Nice day, Mrs. Stiles," said Matthew Mugg. "How are the rats in the barn?"

They reached the Grimbledon about the middle of the morning. The town was very full and busy and holidayfied. In the cattle–market fine beeves, prize pigs, fat sheep and pedigreed draft horses with ribbons in their manes filled the pens.

Through the good–natured crowds that thronged the streets the Doctor and Matthew made their way patiently toward the enclosure where the circus was. The Doctor began to get worried that he might be asked to pay to go in, because he hadn't a single penny in his pockets. But at the entrance to the circus they found a high platform erected, with some curtains at the back. It was like a small outdoor theater. On this platform a man with an enormous black moustache was standing. From time to time various showily–dressed persons made their appearance through the curtains; and the big man introduced them to the gaping crowd and told of the wonders they could perform. Whatever they were, clowns, acrobats or snake–charmers, he always said they were the greatest in the world. The crowd was tremendously impressed; and every once in a while people in ones and twos would make their way through the throng, pay their money at the little gate and pass into the circus enclosure.

"There you are," the Cat's–Meat–Man whispered in the Doctor's ear. "Didn't I tell yer it was a good show? Look! People going in by hundreds."

"Is that big man the manager?" asked the Doctor.

"Yes, that's him. That's Blossom himself—Alexander Blossom. He's the man we've come to see."

The Doctor began to squirm his way forward through the people, with Matthew following behind. Finally he reached the front and started making signs to the big man on the platform above to show that he wanted to speak to him. But Mr. Blossom was so busy bellowing about the wonders of his show that the Doctor—a small man in a big crowd—could not attract his attention.

"Get up on the platform," said Matthew. "Climb up and talk to him."

So the Doctor clambered up one corner of the stage and then suddenly got frightfully embarrassed to find himself facing so large a gathering of people. However, once there, he plucked up his courage and, tapping the shouting showman on the arm, he said:

"Excuse me."

Mr. Blossom stopped roaring about the "greatest show on earth" and gazed down at the little round man who had suddenly appeared beside him.

"Er—er—" the Doctor began.

Then there was a silence. The people began to titter.

Blossom, like most showmen, was never at a loss for words and seldom missed an opportunity of being funny at somebody else's expense. And while John Dolittle was still wondering how to begin, the manager suddenly turned to the crowd again and, waving his arm towards the Doctor, shouted:

"And this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the original Humpty–Dumpty— the one what gave the king's men so much trouble. Pay your money and come in! Walk up and see 'im fall off the wall!"

At that the crowd roared with laughter and the poor Doctor got more embarrassed than ever.

"Talk to him, Doctor, talk to him!" called the Cat's–Meat–Man from down below.

Soon, when the laughter had subsided, the Doctor made another attempt. He had just opened his mouth when a single piercing cry rang from amidst the crowd—"John!"

The Doctor turned and gazed over the heads of the people to see who was calling him by name. And there on the outskirts of the throng he saw a woman waving violently to him with a green parasol.

"Who is it?" said the Cat's–Meat–Man.

"Heaven preserve us!" groaned the Doctor, shamefacedly climbing down off the stage. "What'll we do now? Matthew—it's Sarah!"

The Third Chapter Business Arrangements

"Well, well, Sarah!" said John Dolittle when he had finally made his way to her. "My, how well and plump you're looking!"

"I'm nothing of the sort, John," said Sarah, severely. "Will you please tell me what you mean by gallivanting around on that platform like a clown? Wasn't it enough for you to throw away the best practice in the West Country for the sake of pet mice and frogs and things? Have you no pride? What are you doing up there?"

"I was thinking of going into the circus business," said the Doctor.

Sarah gasped and put her hand to her head as thought about to swoon. Then a long lean man in parson's clothes who was standing behind her came and took her by the arm.

"What is it, my dear?" said he.

"Launcelot," said Sarah weakly, "this is my brother, John Dolittle. John, this is the Reverend Launcelot Dingle, rector of Grimbledon, my husband. But, John, you can't be serious. Go into the circus business! How disgraceful! You must be joking—and who is this person?" she added as Matthew Mugg shuffled up and joined the party.

"This is Matthew Mugg," said the Doctor. "You remember him, of course?"

"Ugh!—the rat–catcher," said Sarah, closing her eyes in horror.

"Not at all. He's a meat merchant," said the Doctor. "Mr. Mugg, the Reverend Launcelot Dingle." And the Doctor introduced his ragged greasy friend as if he had been a king. "He's my most prominent patient," he added.

"But, listen, John," said Sarah, "if you do go into this mad business, promise me you'll do it under some other name. Think what it would mean to our position here if it got known that the Rector's brother–in–law was a common showman!"

The Doctor thought a moment. Then he smiled. [ Transcriber's note—"be smiled" changed to "he smiled"]

"All right, Sarah, I'll use some other name. But I can't help it if some one recognizes me, can I?"

After they had bidden farewell to Sarah, the Doctor and Matthew again sought out the manager. They found him counting money at the gate, and this time were able to talk to him at their ease.

John Dolittle described the wonderful animal that he had at home and said he wanted to join the circus with him. Alexander Blossom admitted he would like to see the creature, and told the Doctor to bring him here. But John Dolittle said it would be better and easier if the manager came to Puddleby to look at him.

This was agreed upon. And after they had explained to Blossom how to get to the little house on the Oxenthorpe Road, they set out for home again, very pleased with their success so far.

"If you do go with Blossom's Circus," Matthew asked, as they tramped along the road chewing sardine sandwiches, "will you take me with you, Doctor? I'd come in real handy, taking care of the caravan, feeding and cleaning and the likes o' that."

"You're very welcome to come, Matthew," said the Doctor. "But what about your own business?"

"Oh, that," said Matthew, biting viciously into another sandwich. "There ain't no money in that. Besides, it's so tame, handing out bits of meat on skewers to overfed poodles! There's no—no what d'y' call it?"—(he waved his sandwich towards the sky)—"no adventure in it. I'm naturally venturesome—reckless like—always was, from my cradle up. Now the circus: that's the real life! That's a man's job."

"He waved his sandwich towards the sky"

"But how about your wife?" asked the Doctor.

"Theodosia? Oh, she'd come along. She's venturesome, like me. She could mend the clothes and do odd jobs. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" asked the Doctor, who was staring down at the road as he walked. "I was thinking of Sarah."

"Queer gent, that what she married, ain't he," said Matthew, "the Reverend Dangle?"

"Dingle," the Doctor corrected. "Yes. He's venturesome too. It's a funny world—Poor dear Sarah!—Poor old Dingle!—Well, well."

Late that night, when the Grimbledon Fair had closed, Mr. Blossom, the ringmaster, came to the Doctor's house in Puddleby.

After he had been shown by the light of a lantern the pushmi–pullyu grazing on the lawn, he came back into the library with the Doctor and said:

"How much do you want for that animal?"

"No, no, he's not for sale," said the Doctor.

"Oh, come now," said the manager. "You don't want him. Any one could see you're not a regular showman. I'll give you twenty pounds for him."

"No," said the Doctor.

"Thirty pounds," said Blossom.

Still the Doctor refused.

"Forty pounds—fifty pounds," said the manager. Then he went up and up, offering prices that made the Cat's–Meat–Man who was listening open his eyes wider and wider with wonder.

"It's no use," said the Doctor at last. "You must either take me with the animal into your circus or leave him where he is. I have promised that I myself will see he is properly treated."

"What do you mean?" asked the showman. "Ain't he your property? Who did you promise?"

"He's his own property," said the Doctor. "He came here to oblige me. It was to himself, the pushmi–pullyu, that I gave my promise."

"What!—Are you crazy?" asked the showman.

Matthew Mugg was going to explain to Blossom that the Doctor could speak animals' language. But John Dolittle motioned to him to be silent.

"And so, you see," he went on, "you must either take me and the animal or neither."

Then Blossom said no, he wouldn't agree to that arrangement. And to Matthew's great disappointment and grief he took his hat and left.

But he had expected the Doctor to change his mind and give in. And he hadn't been gone more than ten minutes before he rang the door–bell and said that he had come back to talk it over.

Well, the upshot of it was that the showman finally consented to all the Doctor asked. The pushmi–pullyu and his party were to be provided with a new wagon all to themselves and, although traveling as part of the circus, were to be entirely free and independent. The money made was to be divided equally between the Doctor and the manager. Whenever the pushmi–pullyu wanted a day off he was to have it, and whatever kind of food he asked for was to be provided by Blossom.

When all the arrangements had been gone into, the man said he would send the caravan here next day, and prepared to go.

"By the way," he said, pausing at the front door. "What's your name?"

The Doctor was just about to tell him, when he remembered Sarah's request.

"Oh, well, call me John Smith," said he.

"All right, Mr. Smith," said the showman. "Have your party ready by eleven in the morning. Good night."

"Good night," said the Doctor.

As soon as the door had closed Dab–Dab, Gub–Gub, Jip, Too–Too and the white mouse, who had been hiding and listening in various corners of the house, all came out into the hall and started chattering at the top of their voices.

"Hooray!" grunted Gub–Gub. "Hooray for the circus!"

"'Hooray for the circus!'"

"My," said Matthew to the Doctor, "you're not such a bad business man after all! You got Blossom to give in to everything. He wasn't going to let the chance slip. Did you see how quickly he came back when he thought the deal was off? I'll bet he expects to make a lot of money out of us."

"Poor old home," sighed Dab–Dab, affectionately dusting off the hat–rack. "To leave it again so soon!"

"Hooray!" yelled Gub–Gub, trying to stand on his hind legs and balance the Doctor's hat on his nose—"Hooray for the circus!— To–morrow!—Whee!"

The Fourth Chapter The Doctor is Discovered

Very early the next morning Dab–Dab had the whole house astir. She said breakfast must be eaten and the table cleared before seven, if everything was to be got in readiness for their departure by eleven.

As a matter of fact, the diligent housekeeper had the house closed and everybody waiting outside on the front steps hours before the wagon arrived. But the Doctor, for one, was still kept busy. For up to the last minute animal patients were still coming in from all parts of the countryside, with various ailments to be cured.

At last Jip, who had been out scouting, came rushing back to the party gathered in the garden.

"The wagon's coming," he panted—"all red and yellow—it's just around the bend."

Then everybody got excited and began grabbing their parcels. Gub–Gub's luggage was a bundle of turnips; and just as he was hurrying down the steps to the road the string broke and the round, white vegetables went rolling all over the place.

The wagon, when it finally came in sight, was certainly a thing of beauty. It was made like a gypsy caravan, with windows and door and chimney. It was very gayly painted and quite new.

"Waiting on the front steps"

Not so the horse; he was quite old. The Doctor said that never had he seen an animal so worn out and weary. He got into conversation with him and found out that he had been working in the circus for thirty–five years. He was very sick of it he said. His name was Beppo. The Doctor decided he would tell Blossom that it was high time Beppo should be pensioned off and allowed to live in peace.

In spite of the newness of the van, Dab–Dab swept it out before she put the packages in it. She had the Doctor's bedding tied up in a sheet, like a bundle of clothes for the laundry. And she was most careful that this should not get dirty.

When the animals and the baggage were all in, the Doctor got terribly afraid that the load would be too much for the old horse to pull. And he wanted to push behind, to help. But Beppo said he could manage it all right. However, the Doctor would not add to the weight by getting in himself. And when the door was shut and the window curtains drawn, so no one should see the pushmi–pullyu on the way, they set out for Grimbledon, with the man who had brought the wagon driving and the Doctor and the Cat's–Meat–Man walking behind.

On the way through Puddleby Market–place the driver stopped to get something at a shop. And while the caravan waited outside a crowd gathered about the wagon, wanting to know where it was going and what was inside. Matthew Mugg, his chest now swelling with pride, was dying to tell them, but the Doctor wouldn't let him make any speeches.

They reached the Grimbledon Fair–grounds about two o'clock in the afternoon and entered the circus enclosure by a back gate. Inside they found the great Blossom himself, waiting to welcome them.

He seemed quite surprised, on the van's being opened, to find the odd collection of creatures the Doctor had brought with him— he was particularly astonished at the pig. However, he was so delighted to have the pushmi–pullyu that he didn't mind.

He at once led them to what he called their stand—which, he said, he had had built for them that very morning. This the Doctor found to be similar to the place where he had first spoken with Blossom. It was a platform raised three feet from the ground, so that the board–and–canvas room on the top of it could be seen. It had steps up to it, and a little way back from the front edge of the platform curtains covered the entrance to the room, so no one could see inside unless they paid to go in.

Across the front of it was a sign:

THE PUSHMI–PULLYU! COME AND SEE THE MARVELOUS TWO–HEADED ANIMAL FROM THE JUNGLES OF AFRICA! ADMISSION SIXPENCE

The red and yellow wagon (in which the Doctor's party, with the exception of the pushmi–pullyu, were to live) was backed behind the "stand". And Dab–Dab immediately set about making up beds and arranging the inside so it would be homelike.

Blossom wanted to have the pushmi–pullyu put on show at once, but the Doctor refused. He said any wild animal would need to rest after the journey from Puddleby. And he wished the timid beast to get used to the noisy bustle of circus life before he was stared at by a crowd of holiday–makers.

Blossom was disappointed, but he had to give in. Then, to the animals' delight, he offered to show the Doctor around the circus and introduce him to the various performers. So after the pushmi–pullyu had been moved to his new home in the stand and the Doctor had seen that he was provided with hay and water and bedding, the Puddleby party started out to make a tour of the circus under the guidance of the great Alexander Blossom, ringmaster.

The main show took place only twice a day (at two in the afternoon and at six thirty at night), in a big tent in the middle of the enclosure. But all around this there were smaller tents and stands, most of which you had to pay extra to get into. Of these the Doctor's establishment was now to form one. They contained all manner of wonders: shooting galleries; guessing games; wild men of Borneo; bearded ladies; merry–go–rounds; strong men, snake charmers; a menagerie and many more.

Blossom took the Doctor and his friends to the menagerie first. It was a dingy third–rate sort of collection. Most of the animals seemed dirty and unhappy. The Doctor was so saddened he was all for having a row with Blossom over it. But the Cat's–Meat–Man whispered in his ear:

"Don't be starting trouble right away, Doctor. Wait a while. After the boss sees how valuable you are with performing animals you'll be able to do what you like with him. If you kick up a shindy* now we'll maybe lose our job. Then you won't be able to do anything."

This struck John Dolittle as good advice. And he contented himself for the present with whispering to the animals through the bars of their cages that later he hoped to do something for them.

Just as they had entered a dirty man was taking around a group of country folk to show them the collection. Stopping before a cage where a small furry animal was imprisoned, the man called out:

"And this, ladies and gents, is the famous Hurri–Gurri, from the forests of Patagonia. 'E 'angs from the trees by 'is tail. Pass on to the next cage."

The Doctor, followed by Gub–Gub, went over and looked in at "the famous Hurri–Gurri."

"Why," said he, "that's nothing but a common opossum from America. One of the marsupials."

"One of the marsupials"

"How do you know it's a Ma Soupial, Doctor?" asked Gub–Gub. "She hasn't any children with her. Perhaps, it's a Pa Soupial."

"And this," roared the man, standing before the next cage, "is the largest elephant in captivity."

"Almost the smallest one I ever saw," murmured the Doctor.

Then Mr. Blossom suggested that they go on to the next show, Princess Fatima, the snake charmer. And he led the way out of the close, evil–smelling menagerie into the open air. As the Doctor passed down the line of cages he hung his head, frowning unhappily. For the various animals, recognizing the great John Dolittle, were all making signs to him to stop and talk with them.

When they entered the snake charmer's tent there were no other visitors there for the moment but themselves. On the small stage they beheld the Princess Fatima, powdering her large nose and swearing to herself in cockney. Beside her chair was a big shallow box full of snakes. Matthew Mugg peeped into it, gasped with horror, and then started to run from the tent.

"It's all right, Matthew," the Doctor called out. "Don't be alarmed, they're quite harmless."

"What d'yer mean, harmless?" snorted the Princess Fatima, glaring at the Doctor. "They're king cobras, from India—the deadliest snakes livin'."

"They're nothing of the sort," said the Doctor.

"They're American blacksnakes—non–poisonous." And he tickled one under the chin.

"Leave them snakes alone!" yelled the Fatima, rising from her chair —"or I'll knock yer bloomin' 'ead orf."

"'You leave them snakes alone!'"

At this moment Blossom interfered and introduced the ruffled Princess to Mr. Smith.

The conversation which followed (Fatima was still too angry to take much part in it) was interrupted by the arrival of some people who had come to see the snake charmer perform. Blossom led the Doctor's party off into a corner, whispering:

"She's marvelous, Smith. One of the best turns I've got. Just you watch her."

Behind the curtains at the back somebody started beating a drum and playing a pipe. Then Fatima arose, lifted two snakes out of the box and wound them around her neck and arms.

"Will ze ladies and ze gentlemen step a little closair," she cooed softly to her audience. "Zen zay can see bettair—zo!"

"What's she talking like that for?" Gub–Gub whispered to the Doctor.

"Sh! I suppose she thinks she's speaking with an Oriental accent," said John Dolittle.

"Sounds to me like a hot–potato accent," muttered Gub–Gub. "Isn't she fat and wobbly!"

Noticing that the Doctor did not seem favorably impressed, the circus master led them out to see the other sideshows.

Crossing over to the strong man's booth, Gub–Gub caught sight of the Punch and Judy show which is going on at that moment. The play had just reached that point where Toby the dog bites Mr. Punch on the nose. Gub–Gub was fascinated. They could hardly drag him away from it. Indeed, throughout the whole time they spent with the circus this was his chief delight. He never missed a single performance—and, although the play was always the same and he got to know it every word by heart, he never grew tired of it.

At the next booth a large audience was gathered and yokels were gasping in wonder as the strong man lifted enormous weights in the air. There was no fake about this show. And John Dolittle, deeply interested, joined in the clapping and the gasping.

The strong man was an honest–looking fellow, with tremendous muscles. The Doctor took a liking to him right away. One of his tricks was to lie on the stage on his back and lift an enormous dumb–bell with his feet till his legs were sticking right up in the air. It needed balance as well as strength, because if the dumb–bell should fall the wrong way the man would certainly be injured. To–day when he had finally brought his legs into an upright position and the crowd was whispering in admiration, suddenly there was a loud crack. One of the boards of the stage had given way. Instantly down came the big dumb–bell right across the man's chest.

The crowd screamed and Blossom jumped up on the platform. It took two men's strength to lift the dumb–bell off the strong mans' body. But even then he did not arise. He lay motionless, his eyes closed, his face a deathly white.

"Get a doctor," Blossom shouted to the Cat's–Meat–Man. "Hurry! He's hurt hisself—unconscious. A doctor, quick!"

But John Dolittle was already on the stage, standing over the ringmaster, who knelt beside the injured man.

"Get out of the way and let me examine him," he said quietly.

"What can you do? He's hurt bad. Look, his breathing's queer. We got to get a doctor."

"I am a doctor," said John Dolittle. "Matthew, run to the van and get my black bag."

"You a doctor!" said Blossom, getting up off his knees. "Thought you called yourself Mr. Smith."

"Of course, he's a doctor," came a voice out of the crowd. "There wur a time when he wur the best known doctor in the West Country. I know un. Dolittle's his name—John Dolittle, of Puddleby–on–the–Marsh."

The Fifth Chapter The Doctor is Discouraged

The Doctor found that two of the strong man's ribs had been broken by the dumb–bell. However, he prophesied that with so powerful a constitution the patient should recover quickly. The injured man was put to bed in his own caravan and until he was well again the Doctor visited him four times a day and Matthew slept in his wagon to nurse him.

The strong man (his show name was Hercules) was very thankful to John Dolittle and became greatly attached to him—and very useful sometimes, as you will see later on.

So the Doctor felt, when he went to bed that first night of his circus career, that if he had made an enemy in Fatima, the snake charmer, he had gained a friend in Hercules, the strong man.

Of course, now that he had been recognized as the odd physician of Puddleby–on–the–Marsh, there was no longer any sense in his trying to conceal who he was. And very soon he became known among the circus folk as just "the Doctor"—or "the Doc." On the very high recommendation of Hercules, he was constantly called upon for the cure of small ailments by everyone, from the bearded lady to the clown.

The next day, the pushmi–pullyu was put on show for the first time. He was very popular. A two–headed animal had never before been seen in a circus and the people thronged up to pay their money and have a look at him. At first he nearly died of embarrassment and shyness, and he was forever hiding one of his heads under the straw so as not to have to meet the gaze of all those staring eyes. Then the people wouldn't believe he had more than one head. So the Doctor asked him if he would be so good as to keep both of them in view.

"You need not look at the people," he said. "But just let them see that you really have two heads. You can turn your back on the audience—both ends."

But some of the silly people, even when they could see the two heads plainly, kept saying that one must be faked. And they would prod the poor, timid animal with sticks to see if part of him was stuffed. While two country bumpkins were doing this one day the pushmi–pullyu got annoyed, and bringing both his heads up sharply at the same time, he jabbed the two inquirers in the legs. Then they knew for sure that he was real and alive all over.

But as soon as the Cat's–Meat–Man could be spared from nursing Hercules (he turned the job over to his wife) the Doctor put him on guard inside the stall to see that the animal was not molested by stupid visitors. The poor creature had a terrible time those first days. But when Jip told him how much money was being taken in, he determined to stick it out for John Dolittle's sake. And after a little while, although his opinion of the human race sank very low, he got sort of used to the silly, gaping faces of his audiences and gazed back at them—from both his heads—with fearless superiority and the scorn that they deserved.

During show hours the Doctor used to sit in a chair on the front platform, taking the sixpences and smiling on the people as they went in—for all the world as though every one of them were old friends visiting his home. And, in fact, he did in this way re–meet many folks who had known him in years gone by, including the old lady with rheumatism, Squire Jenkyns and neighbors from Puddleby.

Poor Dab–Dab was busier than ever now. For in addition to the housekeeping duties she always had to keep one eye on the Doctor; and many were the scoldings she gave him because he would let the children in for nothing when she wasn't looking.

At the end of each day Blossom, the manager, came to divide up the money. And Too–Too, the mathematician, was always there when the adding was done, to see that the Doctor got his proper share.

Although the pushmi–pullyu was so popular, the Doctor saw very early in his new career that it would take quite a time to earn sufficient money to pay the sailor back for the boat—let alone to make enough for himself and his family to live on besides.

"Too–Too was always there"

He was rather sorry about this; for there were a lot of things in the circus business that he did not like and he was anxious to leave it. While his own show was a perfectly honest affair, there were many features of the circus that were faked; and the Doctor, who always hated fake of any kind, had an uncomfortable feeling that he was part of an establishment not strictly honest. Most of the gambling games were arranged so that those who played them were bound to lose their money.

But the thing that worried the Doctor most was the condition of the animals. Their life, he felt, was in most cases an unhappy one. At the end of his first day with the circus, after the crowds have gone home and all was quiet in the enclosure, he had gone back into the menagerie and talked to the animals there. They nearly all had complaints to make: their cages were not kept properly clean; they did not get exercise or room enough; with some the food served was not the kind they liked.

The Doctor heard them all and was so indignant he sought out the ringmaster in his private caravan right away and told him plainly of all the things he thought ought to be changed.

Blossom listened patiently until he had finished and then he laughed.

"Why, Doc," said he, "if I was to do all the things you want me to I might as well leave the business! I'd be ruined. What, pension off the horses? Send the hurri–gurri back to his home? Keep the men cleaning out the cages all day? Buy special foods? Have the animals took out for walks every day, like a young lady's academy? Man, you must be crazy! Now, look here: You don't know anything about this game—nothing, see? I've given in to you in all you asked. I'm letting you run your part of the show your own way. But I'm going to run the rest of it my way. Understand? I don' want no interference. It's bad enough to have the strong man on the sick list. I ain't going to go broke just to please your Sunday school ideas. And that's flat."

Sad at heart, the Doctor left the manager's quarters and made his way across to his own caravan. On the steps of his wagon, he found the Cat's–Meat–Man smoking his evening pipe. Close by, Beppo, the old horse, was cropping the scrubby grass of the enclosure by the light of the moon.

"Nice night," said Matthew. "You look kind of worried, Doctor. Anything wrong?"

"Yes," said John Dolittle, sitting down miserably on the steps beside him. "Everything's wrong. I've just been talking to Blossom about improving conditions in the menagerie. He won't do a single thing I ask. I think I'll leave the circus."

"Oh, come now," said Matthew. 'Why, you ain't hardly begun, Doctor! Blossom doesn't know yet that you can talk animal language even! Circuses don't have to be bad. You could run one that would be a new kind; clean, honest, special—one that everybody in the world come to see. But you got to get money first. Don't give up so easy."

"No, it's no use, Matthew. I'm doing no good here and I can't stay and see animals unhappy. I never should have gone into the business."

At this moment the old horse, Beppo, hearing his friend's voice, drew near and pushed his muzzle affectionately into the Doctor's ear.

"Hulloa," said John Dolittle. "Beppo, I'm afraid I can be of no help to you. I'm sorry—but I am going to leave the circus."

"But, Doctor," said the old horse, "you're our one hope. Why, only to–day I heard the elephant and the Talking Horse—the cob who performs in the big show—they were saying how glad they were that you had come. Be patient. You can't change everything in a minute. If you go, then we'll never get anything we want. But we know that if you stay, before long you will be running the whole show the way it should be run. We're not worried as long as you're with us. Only stay. And mark my words, the day will come when the new circus, 'The Dolittle Circus,' will be the greatest on earth."

For a moment the Doctor was silent. And Matthew, who had not understood the conversation with the horse, waited impatiently for him to speak.

At last he arose and turned to go into the caravan.

"Well," said the Cat's–Meat–Man anxiously, "are you going to stay?"

"Yes, Matthew," said the Doctor. "It seems I've got to. Good night."

At the end of that week the Grimbledon Fair was over and the circus had to move on to the next town. It was a big job, this packing up a large show for a long journey by road. And all day Sunday the enclosure was a very busy place. Men ran around everywhere shouting orders. The big tent and the little tents were pulled down and rolled up. The stands were taken apart and piled into wagons. The large space that had looked so gay was quickly changed into a drab, untidy mess. It was all very new to the Doctor's pets; and though Dab–Dab joined in the general hustle of packing, the rest of them enjoyed the excitement and the newness of it no end.

One thing that amused them very much was the change in the appearance of the performers when they got out of their circus dress to travel. Gub–Gub was very confused, because he couldn't recognize anybody any more. The clown took the white paint off his face. The Princess Fatima laid aside her gorgeous garments and appeared like a respectable charwoman ready for a holiday. The Wild Man of Borneo put on a collar and tie and talked quite naturally. And the Bearded Lady took off her beard, folded it up and packed it in a trunk.

Then in a long procession of caravans the circus set out upon the road. The next town to be visited was fifty miles off. This journey could not, of course, be covered in a single day, going at a walk. The nights were to be spent camping out by the roadside or in whatever convenient clear spaces could be found. So, beside the new amusement of seeing the country by day from a home on wheels, the animals had the thrill of spending the nights gypsy–fashion, wherever darkness found them. Jip got lots of fun chasing the rats out of the ditches along the road and often going off across a meadow on the scent of a fox. The slowness of the circus's pace gave him time for all sorts of small adventures; and he could always catch up. But Gub–Gub's chief delight was guessing where they would spend the night.

"On the scent of a fox"

This part of the life, the halting for sleep, seemed to be enjoyed by all. When the kettle was put on to boil over the roadside fire every one cheered up and got talkative. Jip's two friends, the clown's dog and Toby, the Punch–and–Judy dog, always came around as soon as the procession stopped for the night, and joined the Doctor's party. They, too, seemed to be much in favor of John Dolittle's taking charge of the show or running a circus of his own. And when they weren't amusing the family circle with wonderful stories of a show–dog's life they kept telling the Doctor that a real Dolittle Circus would, to their way of thinking, be a perfect institution.

John Dolittle had always said that there were just as many different characters and types among dogs as there were among people— in fact, more. He had written a book to prove this. He called it Dog Psychology. Most metaphysicians had pooh–poohed it, saying that no one but a hair–brain would write on such a subject. But this was only to hide the fact that they couldn't understand it.

Certainly these two, Swizzle, the clown's dog, and Toby, the Punch–and–Judy dog, had very different personalities. Swizzle (to look at, he was nothing but a common mongrel) had a great sense of humor. He made a joke out of everything. This may have been partly on account of his profession—helping a clown make people laugh. But it was also part of his philosophy. He told both the Doctor and Jip more than once that when he was still a puppy he had decided that nothing in this world was worth taking seriously. He was a great artist, nevertheless, and could always see the most difficult jokes—even when they were made at his own expense.

It was Swizzle's sense of humor that gave the Doctor the idea for the first comic papers printed for animals—when later he founded the Rat–and–Mouse Club. They were called Cellar Life and Basement Humor and were intended to bring light entertainment to those who live in dark places.

Toby, the other, was as different from his friend Swizzle as it is possible to be. He was a small dog, a dwarf white poodle. And he took himself and life quite seriously. The most noticeable thing about his character was his determination to get everything which he thought he ought to get. Yet he was not selfish, not at all. The Doctor always said that this shrewd business–like quality was to be found in most little dogs—who had to make up for their small size by an extra share of cheek. The very first time Toby came visiting to John Dolittle's caravan he got on the Doctor's bed and made himself comfortable. Dab–Dab, highly scandalized, tried to put him off. But he wouldn't move. He said the Doctor didn't seem to mind and he was the owner of the bed. And from that time on he always occupied this place in the caravan's evening circle when he came to visit. He had won a special privilege for himself by sheer cheek. He was always demanding privileges, and he usually got them.

But there was one thing, in which Toby and Swizzle were alike; and that was the pride they took in their personal friendship with John Dolittle, whom they considered the greatest man on earth.

"Toby and Swizzle"

One night on the first trip between towns the procession had stopped by the side of the road as usual. There was a nice old–fashioned farm quite near and Gub–Gub had gone off to see if there were any pigs in the stye. Otherwise the Doctor's family circle was complete. And soon after the kettle had been put on to boil along came Toby and Swizzle. The night was cool; so, instead of making a fire outside, Dab–Dab was using the stove in the caravan, and everybody was sitting around it chatting.

"Have you heard the news, Doctor?" said Toby, jumping up on the bed.

"No," said John Dolittle. "What is it?"

"At the next town—Ashby, you know, quite a large place—we are to pick up Sophie."

"Who in the world is Sophie?" asked the Doctor, getting out his slippers from behind the stove.

"She left us before you joined," said Swizzle. "Sophie's the performing seal—balances balls on her nose and does tricks in the water. She fell sick and Blossom had to leave her behind about a month ago. She's all right now, though, and her keeper is meeting us at Ashby so she can join us again. She's rather a sentimental sort of girl, is Sophie. But she's a good sport, and I'm sure you will like her."

"Climbed wearily from his sleepless bed"

The circus reached Ashby about nine o'clock on a Wednesday evening. It was to open to the public the first thing the following morning. So all through that night, by the light of flares, the men were busy hoisting tents, setting up booths, and spreading tanbark. Even after the pushmi–pullyu's stand was put together and the Doctor's family retired to rest, no one got any sleep; for the ground still shook with the hammers driving pegs; and the air was full of shouts and the spirits of work, till the dusk of dawn crept over the roofs of Ashby and showed the city of canvas that had been built in a night.

John Dolittle decided, as he climbed wearily from his sleepless bed that circus life took a lot of getting used to. After breakfast, leaving Matthew in charge of his stand, he set out to make the acquaintance of the performing seal.

The Sixth Chapter Sophie, From Alaska

Sophie's keeper, like the rest of the showmen, had by this time got his part of the circus in readiness to open to the public. The seal was accustomed to perform in the big tent twice a day, following the Pinto Brothers (trapeze acrobats) and the Talking Horse. But during the rest of the day she was a side–show like the pushmi–pullyu. Here in an enclosed tank she dived after fish for the amusement of anyone who paid threepence to come and see her.

This morning—it was still quite early—Sophie's keeper was eating his breakfast outside on the steps when the Doctor entered the stand. Inside, a tank about twelve feet across had been let into the ground; and around it was a platform with a railing where visitors stood to watch the performance. Sophie, a fine five–foot Alaskan seal, with sleek skin and intelligent eyes, was wallowing moodily in the water of the tank. When the Doctor spoke to her in her own language, and she realized who her visitor was, she burst into a flood of tears.

"What is the matter?" asked John Dolittle.

The seal, still weeping, did not answer.

"Calm yourself," said the Doctor. "Don't be hysterical. Tell me, are you still sick? I understood you had recovered."

"Oh, yes, I got over that," said Sophie through her tears. "It was only an upset stomach. They will feed us this stale fish, you know."

"Then what's the matter?" asked the Doctor. "Why are you crying?"

"I was weeping for joy," said Sophie. "I was just thinking as you came in that the only person in the world who could help me in my trouble was John Dolittle. Of course, I had heard all about you through the Post Office and the Arctic Monthly. In fact, I had written to you. It was I who contributed those articles on under–water swimming—you remember?—The Alaskan Wiggle, you know—double overhand stroke. It was printed in the August number of your magazine. We were awfully sorry when you had to give up the Arctic Monthly. It was tremendously popular among the seals."

"But what was this trouble you were speaking of?" asked the Doctor.

"Oh, yes," said Sophie, bursting into tears again. "That just shows you how glad I am; I had forgotten all about it for the moment. You know, when you first came in I thought you were an ordinary visitor. But the very first word of sealish that you spoke—and Alaskan sealish at that—I knew who you were; John Dolittle, the one man in the world I wanted to see! It was too much, I―—"

"Come, come!" said the Doctor. "Don't break down again. Tell me what your trouble is."

"Well," said Sophie, "it's this: While I―—"

At that moment there was a noise outside, the rattling of a bucket.

"Sh! It's the keeper coming," whispered the Doctor quickly. "Just carry on with your tricks. I'm not letting them know I can talk to the animals."

When the keeper entered to swab the floor, Sophie was frisking and diving for an audience of one: a quite little fat man with a battered high hat on the back of his head. The keeper just glanced at him, before setting to work, and decided that he was quite an ordinary person, nobody in particular at all.

As soon as the man had finished his mopping and disappeared again, Sophie continued:

"You know," said the seal, "when I fell sick we were performing at Hatley–on–Sea, and I and my keeper—Higgins is his name—stayed there two weeks while the circus went on without us. Now, there's a zoo at Hatley—only a small one—near the esplanade. They have artificial ponds there with seals and otters in them. Well, Higgins got talking to the keeper of these seals one day, and told him about my being sick. And they decided I needed company. So they put me in the pond with the other seals till I should recover. Among them there was an older one who came from the same part of the Behring Straits as I did. He gave me some very bad news about my husband. It seems that ever since I was captured he has been unhappy and refused to eat. He used to be leader of the herd. But after I was taken away he had worried and grown thin and finally another seal was elected leader in his place. Now he wasn't expected to live." (Quietly Sophie began to weep again.) "I can quite understand it. We were devoted to one another. And although he was so big and strong and no other seal in the herd ever dared to argue with him, without me, well, he was just lost, you know—a mere baby. He relied on me for everything. And now—I don't know what's happening to him. It's just terrible—terrible!"

"Well, wait a minute," said the Doctor. "Don't cry. What do you think ought to be done?"

"I ought to go to him," said Sophie, raising herself in the water and spreading out her flippers. "I ought to be by his side. He is the proper leader of the herd and he needs me. I hoped I might escape at Hatley, but not a chance did I get."

"Humph!" muttered the Doctor. "It's an awful long way to the Behring Straits. How on earth would you get there?"

"That's just what I wanted to see you about," said Sophie. "Overland, of course, my rate of travel is very slow. If I could only have got away at Hatley I'd have been all right. Because, of course," she added with a powerful swish of her tail that slopped half the water out of the tank, "once I reached the sea I'd be up to Alaska in no time."

"'I ought to go to him'"

"Ah, yes," the Doctor agreed, as he shook the water out of his boots. "I see you are a powerful swimmer. How far are we from the coast here?"

"About a hundred miles," said Sophie. "Oh dear! Poor Slushy! My poor, poor Slushy!"

"Poor who?" asked the Doctor.

"Slushy," said the seal. "That's my husband's name. He relied on me in everything, poor, simple Slushy. What shall I do? What shall I do?"

"Well, now listen," said John Dolittle. "This is no easy matter, to smuggle you to the sea. I don't say it's impossible. But it needs thinking out. Perhaps I can get you free some other way—openly. In the meantime I'll send word up to your husband by bird messenger and tell him to stop worrying, because you are all right. And the same messenger can bring us back news of how he is getting on. Now, cheer up. Here come some people to see you perform."

A school mistress with a band of children entered, accompanied by Higgins, the keeper. As they came in a little fat man went out, smiling to himself. Soon the children were laughing with delight at the antics of the big animal in the tank. And Higgins decided that Sophie must now be feeling entirely recovered, for he had never seen her so sprightly or so full of good spirits before.

The Seventh Chapter The Messenger From the North

Late that night the Doctor took Too–Too with him and went to visit the seal again. "Now, Sophie," said he when they had reached the side of the tank, "this owl is a friend of mine, and I want you to describe to him just where in Alaska your husband can be found. Then we'll send him off to the seashore, and he will hand on your message to the gulls who are going northwestward. Let me introduce you: Sophie, this is Too–Too, one of the cleverest birds I know. He is particularly good at mathematics."

The owl sat on the rail while Sophie told him exactly how Slushy could be reached and reeled off a long and loving message for her husband. When she had ended he said:

"I think I'll make for Bristol, Doctor. It is about the nearest coast town. There are always plenty of gulls to be found in the harbor. I'll get one to take this and pass it on to its destination."

"Very good, Too–Too," said the Doctor. "But we want to hurry it all we can. If you can find some sea–bird who is willing to take it the whole way as a special favor to me, it would be better."

"All right," said Too–Too, preparing to depart. "Leave the window of the caravan open, so I can get in. I don't suppose I shall be back much before two in the morning. So long!"

Then the Doctor returned to his wagon and rewrote the last part of his new book, which was called Animal Natation. Sophie had given him a lot of helpful hints on good swimming style which made it necessary for him to add three more chapters.

He got so interested in this he did not notice how the time was passing; till, somewhere between two and three in the morning he suddenly found Too–Too, the night bird, standing on the table before him.

"Doctor," said he, speaking low so he would not wake the animals. "You could never guess whom I met. You remember the gull who brought you the warning about Cape Stephen Light? Well, I ran into him in Bristol Harbor. I hadn't seen him since the good old house–boat days. But I recognized him at once. I told him I was hunting for some one to take a message up to Alaska; and when he heard it was you who sent me, he said he would attend to it himself with pleasure. He doesn't expect to be back under five days, though— at best.

"Splendid, Too–Too, splendid!" said the Doctor.

"I am returning to Bristol Friday," said the owl, "and if he isn't back then, I'll wait till he comes."

The following morning John Dolittle told Sophie that her message had been sent on; and she was very pleased. For the present there was nothing further to be done but to wait for the gull's return.

On Thursday (a day before the time Too–Too had planned to return to Bristol) the Doctor's whole party were seated round the table in the caravan listening to a story from Toby, the Punch–and–Judy dog. Just as Toby paused breathless at the most exciting parts, there came a gentle tapping on the window.

"Booh!" said Gub–Gub—"How spookish!" And he crawled under the bed.

John Dolittle rose, drew back the curtains and opened the window. On the sill stood the gull who months before had brought him another message by night when he lived in the houseboat postoffice. Now, weather–beaten and weary, he looked more dead than alive. Gently the Doctor lifted him from the window–sill, and set him down on the table. Then they all drew near, staring at him in silence, waiting for the exhausted bird to speak.

"He crawled under the bed"

"John Dolittle," said the gull at last, "I didn't wait for Too–Too to meet me in Bristol, because I thought you ought to know at once. The seal herd to which Sophie and her husband belonged are in a bad way —very bad. And it has all come about because Sophie was taken away and her husband Slushy lost the leadership. Winter has set in up there early this year—and my, such a winter! Blizzards, mountainous snowdrifts, the seas frozen months ahead of the usual time. I nearly died of the cold myself—and you know we gulls can stand awful low temperatures. Well, leadership for the seal herds is tremendously important in bad weather. They're not much different from sheep—same as all animals that travel and live in packs. And without a big, strong boss to lead them to the open fishing and the protected wintering places, they're just lost, that's all—helpless. Now, it seems, ever since Slushy started to mope they've had one leader after another—and none of them any good. Rows and little revolutions going on in the herd all the while. And in the meantime the walruses and sea lions are driving them out of all the best fishing and the Esquimaux seal hunters killing them right and left. No seal herd can last long against the fur hunters up there if they haven't got a good leader with wits enough to keep them out of danger. Slushy was the best they ever had, as strong as an ox. Now all he does is lie on an iceberg, mooning and weeping because his favorite wife's been taken away. He's got hundreds more, just as good–looking, but the only one he wants is Sophie, and there you are. The herd's just going to pieces. In the days of Slushy's leadership, they tell me it was the finest seal herd in the Arctic Circle. Now, most likely, with this extra bad winter setting in, it'll be wiped right out."

For fully a minute after the gull finished his long speech silence reigned in the caravan.

Finally John Dolittle said:

"Toby, does Sophie belong to Blossom or to Higgins?"

"To Higgins, Doctor," said the little dog. "He does something as the same as you do; in return for letting the seal perform in the big ring, Higgins gets his stand in the circus free, and pockets whatever money he makes on her as a side show."

"Well, that isn't the same as me at all," said the Doctor. "The big difference is that the pushmi–pullyu is here of his own accord and Sophie is kept against her will. It is a perfect scandal that hunters can go up to the Arctic and capture any animals they like, breaking up families and upsetting herd government and community life in this way—a crying shame! Toby, how much does a seal cost?"

"They vary in price, Doctor," said Toby. "But I heard Sophie say that when Higgins bought her in Liverpool from the men who had caught her he paid twenty pounds for her. She had been trained on the ship to do tricks before she landed."

"How much have we got in the money box, Too–Too?" asked the Doctor.

"All of last week's gate money," said the owl, "except one shilling and threepence. The threepence you spent to get your hair cut and the shilling went on celery for Gub–Gub."

"Well, what does that bring the total to?"

Too–Too, the mathematician, cocked his head on one side and closed his left eye—as he always did when calculating.

"Two pounds, seven shillings," he murmured, "minus one shilling and threepence leaves—er—leaves—two pounds five shillings and ninepence, cash in hand, net."

"Good Lord!" groaned the Doctor, "barely enough to buy a tenth of Sophie! I wonder if there's any one I could borrow from. That's the only good thing about being a people's doctor. When I had a practice I could borrow from my patients."

"If I remember rightly," muttered Dab–Dab, "it was more often your patients that borrowed from you."

"Blossom wouldn't let you buy her even if you had the money," said Swizzle. "Higgins is under contract—made a promise—to travel with the circus for a year."

"Very well, then," said the Doctor. "There's only one thing to be done. That seal doesn't belong to those men, anyhow. She's a free citizen of the Arctic Circle. And if she wants to go back there, back she shall go. Sophie must escape."

Before his pets went to bed that night the Doctor made them promise that for the present they would say nothing to the seal about the bad news the gull had brought. It would only worry her, he told them. And until he had helped her to get satisfy to the sea there was no need for her to know.

Then, until the early hours of the morning, he sat up with Matthew making plans for Sophie's flight. At first the Cat's–Meat–Man was very much against the idea.

"Why, Doctor," said he, "you'll get arrested if you're caught. Helping that seal escape from her owner! They'll call it stealing."

"I don't care that much," said the Doctor snapping his fingers. "Let them call it what they like. Let them arrest me—if they catch me. If the case is taken to the courts, at least I'll get a chance to say a word for the rights of wild animals."

"They won't listen to you, Doctor," said Matthew. "They'll say you're a sentimental crank. Higgins would win easy. Rights of property and all that. I see your point, but the judge wouldn't. He'd tell you to pay Higgins his twenty pounds for a lost seal. And if you couldn't, you'd go to jail."

"I don't care," the Doctor repeated. "But listen, Matthew: I wouldn't want you to get mixed up in it if you don't think it's right. I shall have to use deception if I'm to be successful. And I should be very sorry to get you into trouble. If you would prefer to stay clear of it, say so now. But for my part, my mind is made up: Sophie is going to Alaska even if I have to go to jail—that will be nothing new. I've been in jail before."

"'I don't care that much'"

"So have I," said the Cat's–Meat–Man. Was you ever in Cardiff Jail? By Jingo! that's a rotten one! The worst I was ever in."

"No," said the Doctor. "I've only been in African jails—as yet. They're bad enough. But let us get back to the point. Would you sooner not help me in this? It's against the law—I know—even if I think the law is wrong. Understand, I shan't be the least offended if you have conscientious objections to aiding and abetting me. Eh?"

"Conscientious objections, me eye!" said the Cat's–Meat–Man, opening the window and spitting accurately out into the night. "O' course, I'll help you, Doctor. That old sour–faced Higgins ain't got no right to that seal. She's a free creature of the seas. If he paid twenty pounds for her, more fool him. What you say goes, Doctor. Ain't we kind of partners in this here circus business? I think it's a good kind of a lark meself. Didn't I tell you I was venturesome? Lor' bless us! I done worse things than help a performin' seal to elope. Why, that time I was telling you of, when I was jailed in Cardiff— do you know what it was for?"

"No, I have no idea," said the Doctor. "Some slight error, I have no doubt. Now let us—"

"It was no slight error," said Matthew, "I―"

"Well, never mind it now," said John Dolittle quickly. "We all make mistakes, you know." ("It was no mistake, neither," muttered Matthew as the Doctor hurried on.) "If you are quite sure that you will have no regrets about going into this—er—matter with me, let us consider ways and means. It will be necessary, I think, in order to avoid getting Blossom suspicious, for me to leave the circus for a few days. I will say I have business to attend to— which is quite true, even if I don't attend to it. But it would look very queer if I and Sophie disappeared the same night. So I will go first, leaving you in charge of my show. Then a day—or better, two days—later, Sophie will disappear."

"Also on business," put in Matthew, chuckling. "You mean you'll leave me the job of letting her out of her tank after you're gone?"

"Yes, if you don't mind," said the Doctor.

"It'll give me great pleasure," said the Cat's–Meat–Man.

"Splendid!" said the Doctor. "I'll arrange beforehand with Sophie where she is to meet me, once she's clear of the circus. And then ―—"

"And then your job will begin in earnest," laughed Matthew Mugg.