Doctor Dolittle's Circus

The First Chapter Back to the Circus

And now, with money in his pocket to pay for a ride, John Dolittle set about finding a coach that would carry him back in the direction of Ashby.

At the village of Appledyke his little country lane led him on to a bigger highway running north and south. Making inquiries of the village blacksmith, he found that coaches plied this road and that he could expect one to pass in about half an hour. So, after buying some toffee at the one small shop which Appledyke could boast of the Doctor settled down to wait, munching his sweetmeats to pass the time.

About four o'clock in the afternoon a coach came along and took him to the next large town. From there he caught a night coach going east; and in the early hours of the following morning he was back within ten miles of Ashby again.

The remainder of the journey he thought he had better do on foot for safety's sake. So after he had a shave and a breakfast and a rest at an inn, he set out to walk the short remaining distance.

He had not gone more than about a mile before he came upon some gypsies camped by the side of the road. One old woman among them hailed him, offering to tell his fortune. The Doctor didn't want his fortune told, but stopped to chat. In the course of conversation he mentioned Blossom's Circus. The gypsies then told him that it was no longer at Ashby, but had left for the next town.

On his asking for the right road to take to reach the next town, the gypsies told him that a man with a wagon, who was on his way to join Blossom's circus, had passed them only half an hour ago. If he hurried on, they said, he might easily overtake him, as his horse was a slow walker.

The way from here to the town where the circus would next perform was rather a complicated cross–country journey; and the Doctor thought it would be much easier if he had some one with him who knew the way. He therefore thanked the gypsies and hastened on to try and catch the man who was bound, like himself, for Blossom's Circus.

By making inquiries of the wayfarers along the road, the Doctor was able to follow the route the man had taken. And about noon he came up with him halted at the roadside taking his lunch.

His wagon was very peculiar. All four sides of it were covered with signs. "Use Doctor Brown's Ointment," "Have Your Teeth Pulled by Doctor Brown," "Doctor Brown's Syrup Cures All Liver Complaints," "Doctor Brown's Pills" do this—"Doctor Brown's Liniment" does that, etc.

After reading all the advertisements with much medical interest, John Dolittle went up to the fat man who was eating bread and cheese by the roadside.

"Pardon me!" said he politely. "Am I addressing Doctor Brown himself?"

"'Am I addressing Dr. Brown himself?'"

"That's me," said the man with his mouth full. "What can I do for you? Want a tooth pulled?"

"No," said the Doctor. "But I understand you are going to join Blossom's Circus. Is that so?"

"Yes. I'm meeting it at Stowbury. Why?"

"Well, I was on my way to the same destination," said the Doctor. "I thought, perhaps, I might accompany you—if you have no objection."

Doctor Brown said he had no objection, and after he had finished his lunch he invited John Dolittle into his wagon while he got ready to hitch up. The inside of the wagon seemed to be principally used for making the medicines which were advertised on the outside. And the most important things in their preparation were, as far as Doctor could see, lard and salad oil. Brown himself seemed a vulgar sort of person—not in the least like a real doctor. And presently John Dolittle began asking him questions about where he had got his medical degree; at what hospital he had learned dentistry, etc. Brown didn't like this at all and seemed rather annoyed at the Doctor's cross–examination.

Finally John Dolittle came to the conclusion that the man was most likely nothing but a quack selling fake medicines. He decided he would sooner go on alone. So, without waiting for Brown, he set off down the road ahead of him on foot.

The way the Doctor first knew that he was nearing the circus was by hearing Jip's bark in the distance. The sound was joined by two other barks. And presently, rounding a bend in the highway, he found Jip, Toby and Swizzle all yapping about the foot of a tree, up which they had chased a black cat. Still further down the road he saw the tail end of the wagon–train winding on its way.

"All yapping about the foot of an oak tree"

As soon as he came in view the dogs forgot all about the cat and came racing down the road.

"Doctor! Doctor!" yelped Jip. "How did everything go off? Did Sophie get away?"

Then the three of them jumped all over him, and he had to answer a hundred questions at once. From beginning to end he told the story of his adventurous journey to the sea. And when a little later he overtook the circus train and reached his own wagon he had to tell it all over again for the benefit of the rest of his delighted family.

Dab–Dab hustled around and prepared a meal right away—a sort of tea–and–supper–combined arrangement; and she kept the rest of the household busy pulling out the bed linen to be aired, so that the Doctor should have dry sheets to sleep in.

Then Matthew Mugg got wind of his great friend's arrival, and he came and joined the party, and the story had to be told a third time.

"It was a great piece of work, Doctor," said he—"couldn't have gone better. Blossom never got the least suspicious that you was in it at all."

"What's happened to Higgins?" asked the Doctor.

"Oh, 'e's doing honest work now. Took a stable–man's job in Ashby. Good thing, too! 'E's no loss to the circus business anyhow."

"Has Blossom put on any extra turn to take Sophie's place?" asked the Doctor.

"No," said Matthew. "We were short 'anded for a bit. But Hercules the strong man is back on the job now and the show's as good as ever."

"And we've made lots of money with our part of it, Doctor," cried Too–Too. "How much do you think the pushmi–pullyu took in last week?"

"I've no idea."

"Twelve pounds nine shillings and sixpence!"

"Great heavens!" cried the Doctor. "That's enormous—twelve pounds a week! That's more than I ever made in the best days of my practice. Why, we'll soon be able to retire at that rate!"

"What do you mean, retire, Doctor?" asked Toby, pushing his head up onto the Doctor's knee.

"Well, we hadn't meant to stay in the business for good, you know," said John Dolittle. "I have work of my own to look after in Puddleby —and—and—oh, heaps of things to attend to."

"I see," said Toby sadly. "I thought you were going to stay with us for quite a while."

"But how about the Dolittle Circus, Doctor?" asked Swizzle. "Aren't you going to try that idea—the reformed show we talked about?"

"It's a great notion, Doctor," Jip put in. "All the animals are crazy about the scheme. They've been working out the details of their own part of the performance."

"And what about our theatre, Doctor—'The Animals' Own Theatre'?" Gub–Gub put in. "I've written a play for it since you've been gone. It's called The Bad Tomato. I do the comic fat lady's part. I know my lines by heart already."

"And what about the house in Puddleby? That's what I'd like to know?" said Dab–Dab, angrily brushing the crumbs off the table. "All you animals ever think of is having a good time. You never think of the Doctor and what he wants. You never think of the house going to ruin back there and the garden turning into the jungle. The Doctor has his own work and his own home and his own life to attend to."

A little silence followed the housekeeper's furious outburst, and Toby and Swizzle rather shamefacedly retired under the table.

"Well," said the Doctor at last, "there is something in what Dab–Dab says. I do think as soon as the pushmi–pullyu has made enough to pay back the sailor for his boat—and a little to spare—we ought to think about leaving the business."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Toby. "The Dolittle Circus would have been such a wonderful show!"

"Heigh ho!" said Gub–Gub. "And I would have been simply splendid as a fat lady. I always thought I ought to have been a comic actor."

"Huh!" snorted Dab–Dab. "Last week you said you ought to have been a greengrocer."

"Well," said Gub–Gub. "I could be both—a comic greengrocer. Why not?"

That same night Blossom's Circus entered the town of Stowbury. And, as usual, before dawn the next morning the tents had been set up and everything got in readiness for showing.

As soon as the news of the Doctor's arrival got about, Mr. Blossom came to see him. And from all appearance John Dolittle decided that no suspicions had been aroused in the mind of the ringmaster by his "business" trip.

Another caller at the Doctor's stand that morning was Hercules the strong man. Hercules had never forgotten the kind attention shown him at the time of his accident, and he was glad to find that his friend had returned. His pleasant chat was cut short, however, when he suddenly discovered that it was time for him to give his first performance. The Doctor accompanied him back to his stand.

While returning across the circus enclosure the Doctor noticed, as he passed the tent of Fatima the snake charmer, a strong odor of chloroform. Fearing an accident might have happened, he went inside and found that Fatima was out at the moment. Within the tent the smell was stronger, and it seemed to be coming from the snake box. The Doctor looked into the box and found the six snakes in an almost unconscious state from the drug. One of them still had sense enough left to tell the Doctor, in answer to his questions, that Fatima always dosed them with chloroform on hot days, when they were too lively, in order to make them easier to handle for her performance. They hated it, the snake said, because it gave them headaches.

"'They hated it,' the snake said"

On this pleasant, sunny morning the Doctor had forgotten, for a moment, the wretched condition of many of the animals which had so often sickened him of the whole circus business. This piece of senseless cruelty threw him into a boiling rage and he hurried off at once to look for Blossom.

He found him in the big tent and Fatima with him. The Doctor firmly demanded that the custom of chloroforming the snakes be forbidden. Blossom merely smiled and pretended to be busy with other matters, while Fatima hurled a lot of vulgar language at the Doctor's head.

Discouraged and sad, John Dolittle left the tent, intending to return to his own wagon. The gates were now open and the crowds were coming in thick and fast. The Doctor was wondering how American blacksnakes would manage in the English climate if he contrived their escape, when he noticed a throng of visitor's collecting about a platform down at the other end of the enclosure.

At this moment Matthew came up and joined him, and together they started toward the platform. On this the Doctor now saw his acquaintance, Doctor Brown, delivering a lecture about the wonders of his pills and ointments, which could cure in one dose all the ailments known to mankind.

"What arrangement has this fellow with Blossom?" the Doctor asked of Matthew.

"Oh, he pays him a rake–off," said the Cat's–Meat–Man. "Blossom gets so much on all he takes in. He's going on with us to the next three towns, I hear. Doing a good trade, ain't he?"

Indeed, Doctor Brown was very busy. Country yokels, after listening to his noisy medical lectures, were buying his wares right and left.

"Go and get me a pot of that ointment, will you, Matthew?" said the Doctor. "Here's some money—and get me a box of the pills as well."

"All right," said Matthew with a grin. "But I don't reckon you'll find them much good."

The Cat's–Meat–Man returned with the purchases and the Doctor took them to his wagon. There he opened them, smelled them, examined them and tested them with chemicals from his little black bag.

"Rubbish and bunkum!" he cried when he had ended. "This is just highway robbery. Why did I ever go into this rotten show business? Matthew, get me a step–ladder."

The Cat's–Meat–Man went out, disappeared behind some tents and presently returned with the step–ladder.

"Thank you," said the Doctor, putting it on his shoulder and marching off toward the platform. There was a dangerous light in his eyes.

"What are you going to do, Doctor?" asked Matthew, hurrying after him.

"I'm going to give a medical lecture myself," said the Doctor. "Those people are not going to pay their money for quack rubbish if I can help it."

Jip, who was sitting at the door of his wagon, suddenly pricked up his ears and sprang to his feet.

"Toby," he called over his shoulder, "the Doctor's going over to the patent medicine man's platform. He's got a step–ladder. He looks awfully mad about something. There's going to be a row, I fancy. Get Swizzle and let's go and see the fun."

John Dolittle on reaching the crowd at Brown's lecture stand set up his step–ladder right opposite to the speaker, and Matthew Mugg cleared a space around it so the audience shouldn't knock it over while the Doctor climbed it.

At the moment of his arrival Brown was holding up in his left hand a pot of ointment.

"This preparation which I 'old in my 'and, ladies and gentlemen," he bawled, "is the greatest remedy in the world for sciatica, lumbago, neuralgia, ague and gout. It 'as been hendorsed* by all the leadin' physicians. It is the same what is used by the royal family of Belgium and the Shah of Persia. One application of this marvelous remedy will―—"

At this point another voice, still more powerful, interrupted the lecture. The people all turned around, and there behind them, perched on a step–ladder stood a little round man with a battered high hat on his head.

"Ladies and gentleman*," said the Doctor, "what this man is telling you is not true. His ointment contains nothing but lard mixed with a little perfume. His pills are no good either. I do not recommend you to buy any."

For a moment there was a dead silence. While Doctor Brown was trying to think up something to say, the voice of a woman, Fatima the snake charmer, was heard from the edge of the crowd.

"Don't you listen to him," she yelled pointing a fat finger at John Dolittle. "He's nothing but a showman. He doesn't know anything about medicines. Push 'im orf 'is ladder."

"Just a minute," said the Doctor, addressing the crowd again. "It is true that I am in the show business—for the moment. But I am a medical graduate of the University of Durham. I am prepared to stand by what I have said. These preparations which this man is trying to sell you are worthless. Also I have grave doubts about his education in dentistry and I do not advise any of you to have your tooth touched by him."

The crowd now began to get restless. Several people had already purchased Brown's wares and these could now be seen making their way to the platform and demanding their money back. Brown refused it and tried to make another address to his audience in answer to the Doctor's statements.

"Listen," yelled John Dolittle from his ladder. "I challenge this man to produce a medical degree or credentials of any kind to prove that he is a qualified doctor or dentist. He is a quack."

"You're a fake yourself," yelled Brown. "I'll have the law on you for libel."

"Push 'im down!" howled Fatima. "Mob 'im!"

But the people did not seem inclined to follow her orders. Presently the Doctor was recognized by one of his old patients among the audience—just as he had been in the case of strong man's accident some weeks before. A little old lady suddenly waved an umbrella above the crowd.

"That's John Dolittle," she shouted, "who cured my son Joe of whopping cough back in Puddleby ten years ago. Like to die he was. He's a real doctor—none better in the West Country. T' other's a quack. Ye be fools if ye turn a deaf ear to what John Dolittle tells ye."

Then other voices were heard here and there among the crowd. The general restlessness increased. More people struggled forward to Brown's platform to bring back the wares they had bought. A growing murmur arose.

"Mob 'im! Knock 'im down!" yelled Fatima, trying to make herself heard.

Doctor Brown thrust aside two men who had climbed up onto his stand for their money, came to the edge of the platform and opened his mouth to begin another medical lecture.

But a large, well–aimed turnip suddenly sailed across the heads of the audience and hit him squarely in the face. The mobbing had begun —but it wasn't directed against John Dolittle. Soon carrots, potatoes, stones, all manner of missiles, were flying through the air.

"Grab 'im!" yelled the crowd. "He's a crook."

And the next moment the whole audience surged toward the platform yelling and shaking their fists.

The Second Chapter The Patent Medicine Riots

John Dolittle himself grew a little alarmed as he saw what an ugly mood the crowd was now beginning to show. When he had first mounted his ladder and interrupted the quack doctor's lecture he had meant to do no more than warn the people against buying fake medicines. But as he watched the throng swarm over the platform, wrecking and smashing it on the way, he began to fear for Brown's safety.

When the riot was at its height the police arrived. Even they had considerable difficulty in calming the crowd. They had to use their clubs to make them listen at all. There were many broken heads and bloody noses. Finally the police saw that their only chance of restoring order would be to clear the circus enclosure together.

This was done—in spite of the people's objection that they had only just come in and wanted their admission money back before they left. Then the circus was ordered by the police to remain closed until further instructions.

It was not long before the further instructions were forthcoming. Much indignation had been aroused throughout the respectable town of Stowbury over the whole affair. And the Mayor sent word to Blossom about noon that he and the aldermen would be obliged to him if he would pack up his circus and take it out of their town immediately.

Brown had escaped and got away across country long before this. But that wasn't the end of the affair so far as John Dolittle was concerned. Blossom, already annoyed, became so furious when the Mayor's order was brought that everybody thought he was going to have a fit. Fatima had been railing against the Doctor to him all the morning; and on hearing the last bit of news, which meant considerable loss, he got almost black in the face.

Many of the showmen were with him when the policeman delivered the order. On them too Fatima had been working, trying to arouse bad feeling against the Doctor.

"Blast it!" yelled Blossom, rising to his feet and reaching for a thick walking stick that stood behind his wagon door. "I'll teach him to get my circus closed up! Come on, some of you fellows!"

With waving fists Fatima and four or five of the showmen standing near followed the ringmaster as he marched off toward the Doctor's stand.

Both Jip and Matthew had also been hanging around Blossom's wagon. They too now departed, Jip running ahead to warn the Doctor and the Cat's–Meat–Man going off in a wholly different direction.

On their way to the Doctor's wagon Blossom and his party of vengeance were joined by several tent riggers and others. By the time they arrived at his door they numbered a good dozen. To their surprise the Doctor came out to meet them.

"Good afternoon," said John Dolittle politely. "What can I do for you?"

Blossom tried to speak, but his anger was too much for him—nothing more than spluttering gurgles came from his throat.

"You've done enough for us already," shouted one of the men.

"We're going to do for you now," screamed Fatima.

"You've got the show turned out of the town," growled a third; "one of the best places on the road. You've cost us a week's pay."

"You've been doing your best to put my show on the blink," snarled Blossom, finding his voice at last, "ever since you've been with us. But, by Jiminy*, you've gone too far this time!"

Without further words the group of angry men, led by the ringmaster, rushed upon the Doctor and he went down under a football scrum of kicking feet and punching fists.

Poor Jip did his best to drag them off. But it was little help he could give against twelve such enemies. He couldn't see the Doctor at all. He was beginning to wonder where Matthew was when he saw the Cat's–Meat–Man running toward the fight from the other side of the enclosure. And beside him ran an enormous man in pink tights.

On reaching the scrum the big man began pulling off the showmen by their feet or hair and tossing them aside as though they were wisps of straw.

Finally Hercules the strong man—for it was he—had thinned the fight down to two, Blossom and the Doctor. These still rolled upon the ground trying to throttle one another. With a hand the size of a leg of mutton, Hercules, grasped the ringmaster by the neck and shook him like a rat.

"If you don't be'ave yourself, Alexander," he said quietly, "I'll slap your face and knock your brains out."

"'I'll slap your face'"

There was a little silence while the rest of the showmen picked themselves up from the grass.

"Now," said Hercules still grasping Blossom by the collar, "what's this all about? What are you all settin' on the Doc for? Ought to be ashamed—a good dozen of yet—and him the littlest of all!"

"He went and told the people that Brown's ointment wasn't no good," said Fatima. "Got 'em all worked up, asking for their money back. Called him a fake in front of the audience—and 'im the biggest fake that ever walked himself."

"You're a nice one to talk about fakes," said Hercules. "Didn't I see you painting bands on your pore harmless snakes last week— to make 'em look like real deadly ones? This man's a good doctor. He couldn't 'ave mended my busted ribs for me if he wasn't."

"He's got the show turned out of the town," growled one of the men. "We had our thirty–mile trip from Ashby for nothing—and another forty–mile ahead of us before we take in a penny. That's what your precious Doctor has done for you!"

"He's not going any further with my show," spluttered Blossom. "I've taken about all I'm going to stand from him."

He wriggled himself out of the strong man's grasp and advancing toward the Doctor shook a finger in his face.

"You're fired," he yelled. "Understand? You leave my show to–day —now."

"Very well," said the Doctor quietly. And he turned away toward the door of his wagon.

"Just a minute," Hercules called after him. "Do you want to go, Doctor?"

John Dolittle paused and turned back.

"Well, Hercules," he said doubtfully, "it's rather hard to answer the question."

"What he wants 'as got nothing to do with it," said Fatima. "The boss 'as fired 'im. That settles it. 'E's got to go."

As the Doctor looked into the jeering eyes of this woman that hated him, he thought of the snakes who were in her care. Then he thought of several other circus animals whose condition he had hoped to improve—of Beppo, the old wagon horse who should have been pensioned off years ago. And while he hesitated Swizzle pushed his damp nose up into his hand and Toby plucked at the tail of his coat.

"No, Hercules," he said at last. "All things considered, I do not want to go. But if I'm sent away there's nothing I can do about it, is there?"

"No," said the strong man. "But there's something others can do about it. Look here"—he spun Blossom around by the shoulder and shook an enormous fist under his nose. "This man's an honest man. Brown was a crook. If the Doctor goes, I go too. And if I go, my nephews, the trapeze acrobats, will come with me. And I've a notion that Hop the clown will join us. Now how about it?"

Mr. Alexander Blossom, proprietor of "The Greatest Show on Earth," hesitated, chewing his mustache in dismay and perplexity. With Sophie the seal gone, deserted by the strong man, the trapeze brothers, his best clown and the pushmi–pullyu, his circus would be sadly reduced. While he pondered, Fatima's face was a study. If looks could have killed, both Hercules and the Doctor would have died that day twice over.

"Well," said the ringmaster at last in quite a different voice, "let's talk this over friendly–like. There's no end for hard feelings—and no sense in breaking up the show just because we've come a cropper in one town."

"If I stay," said the Doctor, "I insist that no more fake medicines be sold while I am with you."

"Huh!" snorted Fatima. "See what he's goin' to do? 'E's beginnin' again. 'E's goin' to tell you how to run your show."

"Also," said the Doctor, "I shall require that this woman no longer have the handling of snakes or any other animals. If you want to keep me, she must go. I will buy her snakes from her myself."

Well, in spite of Fatima's screaming indignation, matters were at last arranged peaceably. But that night, when Too–Too was sitting on the steps of the wagon listening to a brother owl who was hooting him from the town cemetery, Dab–Dab came out and joined him, with tears in her eyes.

"I don't know what we'll ever do with the Doctor," she said wearily. "Really I don't. He has taken every penny we had in the money box —the whole twelve pounds nine shillings and sixpence which we had saved up to go back to Puddleby with. And what do you think he has gone and spent it on? He's bought six fat snakes with it!" (Dab–Dab burst into a renewed flood of tears.) "And he—he—has put them in my flour bin to keep till—till he can get a proper bed for them!"

"'He's bought six fat snakes with it!'"

The Third Chapter Nino

After the departure of Fatima, the snake–charmer, John Dolittle liked the life of the circus a good deal better. It had mostly been the thought that he was not doing anything to help the animals that had made him so often speak against it. But now that he had sent Sophie back to her husband; freed the snakes from a life of slavery and chloroform, and forbidden the selling of quack medicines, he began to feel that his presence here was doing good.

And then Blossom, ever since the medical lecture riot, had shown him a great deal more respect. The ringmaster had always known that he had a good thing in the pushmi–pullyu. And if it had not been for his blind rage on being turned out of the town by the Mayor, and for Fatima's eternal nagging against the Doctor, he would never have dreamed of trying to get rid of him at all.

John Dolittle's own popularity with the circus people themselves was in the end improved greatly by the incident at Stowbury. In spite of the fact that she had successfully turned many of the showmen against the Doctor, Fatima herself had always been disliked by almost every one. And when it became known that the Doctor had brought about her departure he was very soon forgiven for the loss caused by the circus being ordered out of the town.

However, his real power and influence with the show people did not properly begin until the day that the Talking Horse fell sick.

The circus had moved on to a town called Bridgeton, a large manufacturing centre, where good business was expected by Blossom. The animals and clowns and bareback riders and the rest had made their usual procession through the streets; big bills were posted all over the place, and when the enclosure was opened to the public great throngs of people had crowded up to the gates. It looked like one of the best weeks the circus had ever known.

"They had made their usual procession through the streets"

At two o'clock the show at the big tent (for which an extra sixpence was charged) was to begin. Outside the entrance a large sign was set up showing the program: "Mademoiselle Firefly, the Bareback Rider; the Pinto Brothers, Daring Trapeze Artists; Hercules, the Strongest Man on Earth; Hop, the Side–Splitting Clown, and His Comedy Wonder–Dog, Swizzle; Jojo, the Dancing Elephant," and (in large letters) "NINO, the World–Famous Talking Horse."

Now this Nino was just an ordinary, cream–colored cob who had been trained to answer signals Blossom had bought him from a Frenchman; and with him he had bought the secret of his so–called talking. In his act he didn't talk at all really. All he did was to stamp his hoof or wag his head a certain number of times to give answers to the questions Blossom asked him in the ring.

"How many do three and four make, Nino?" Blossom would say. Then Nino would stamp the floor seven times. And if the answer was yes, he would nod his head up and down, and if it was no, he would shake it from side to side. Of course, he didn't know what was being asked of him at all, as a matter of fact. And the way he knew what answers to give was from the signals that Blossom made to him secretly. When he wanted Nino to say yes, the ringmaster would scratch his left ears; when he wanted him to answer no, he would fold his arms and so on. The secret of all these signals Blossom kept jealously to himself. But, of course, the Doctor knew all about them because Nino had told him how the whole performance was carried on.

Now, in advertising the circus Blossom always put Nino, the World– Famous Talking Horse, before all the other turns in importance. It was a popular performance and the children loved shouting questions down to the little plump cob and seeing him answer with his feet or his head.

Well, on the circus's first day in Bridgeton, a little before the show in the big tent was to begin, the Doctor and the ringmaster were in the clown's dressing–room talking. Suddenly in rushed the head stableman in a great state of excitement.

"Mr. Blossom," he cried. "Nino's sick! Layin' in his stall with 'is eyes closed. The show's due to begin in fifteen minutes and I can't do nothing with 'im—can't even get 'im on his feet."

With a hearty curse Blossom rushed out and tore away in the direction of the stables, while the Doctor followed him on the run.

When they got to Nino's stall Blossom and the Doctor found the horse in a bad state. His breathing was fast and heavy. With difficulty he was made to stand up on his feet, but for walking even a few steps he seemed far too shaky and weak.

"Darn the luck!" muttered the manager. "If he can't perform it will queer the whole week's showing. We've posted him as the start turn. The crowd will want to know about it if they don't see him."

"You'll have to make a speech and explain," said the Doctor. "That horse has a bad fever. I doubt if he can leave his stall to–day."

"Good heavens, man, we'll have to!" cried Blossom. "We'll likely have the audience asking for its money back if he don't appear. We can't have any more riots like―"

At that moment a boy came up.

"Five minutes to two, Mr. Blossom. Pierce wants to know if you are all ready."

"Hang it!" said the manager. "I can't take the ring for the first turn. I must get Nino fixed up before I can come on."

"We ain't got nobody else, Sir," said the boy. "Robinson 'asn't got back yet."

"Lord, what a day!" groaned the manager. "Well, the show can't open without a ringmaster, that's sure. And I can't leave Nino yet. I don't know what―"

"Excuse me, governor," said a voice behind him. And turning, Blossom looked into the crossed eyes of Matthew Mugg.

"Couldn't I take your place, boss?" said the Cat's–Meat–Man, "I know your whole line of talk by heart. I could introduce the turns—same as you—and nobody know the difference."

"Well," said Blossom looking him up and down, "you're about the scrubbiest ringmaster I ever see'd. But beggars can't be choosers. Come with me—quick—and I'll give you these clothes."

Then, while the Doctor turned his attention to Nino, Blossom and Matthew made off on the run for the dressing rooms. There, with the aid of Theodosia (who put a large swift pleat in Blossom's riding breeches) and a little rouge and a false moustache from the clown's make–up box, Mr. Mugg was transformed from a cat's–meat–man into a ringmaster. The ambition of his life was realized at last. And as he swaggered into the ring and looked up at the sea of faces around him his chest swelled with dignity; while Theodosia, watching him through a slit in the tent–flap, glowed with wifely pride and prayed that the pleat in his riding breeches would hold till the show was over.

In the meantime from an examination of Nino the Doctor became certain that there was no hope of his recovering in time to perform that day. He went and got some large pills from his black bag and gave him two. Presently Blossom, now dressed in a jersey and flannel pants, joined him.

"You can't have this horse perform to–day, Mr. Blossom," said the Doctor, "nor for a week, probably, at last."

"'You can't have this horse perform to–day'"

"Well," said the ringmaster, throwing up his hands in despair, "we're just ruined—that's all—ruined! That row up in Stowbury got into the papers, and now if we have another frost here, we're done for. And if Nino don't go on, the crowd's going to ask for their money back, sure as you're alive. He's the start turn. We might manage if we had another act to put on in his place, but I haven't a blessed thing for an extra. And it was a short program, anyhow. We're ruined. Darn it, I never saw such a run of rotten luck!"

Poor Blossom seemed genuinely crestfallen. While the Doctor looked at him thoughtfully, a horse in the stall next to Nino's neighed softly. It was Beppo, the veteran wagon horse. A smile came into the Doctor's face.

"Look here, Mr. Blossom," said he quietly, "I think I can help you out of this trouble, but if I do you've got to promise me a few things. I know a good deal more about animals than you suppose I do. I've given up the best part of my life to studying them. You advertised that Nino understood you and could answer any questions you put to him. You and I know that's not so, don't we? The trick was done by a system of signals. But it took the public in. Now I'm going to tell you a secret of my own which I don't boast about because nobody would believe me if I did. I can talk to horses in their own language and understand them when they talk back to me."

Blossom was staring down moodily at the floor while the Doctor spoke. But at last words he gazed up at John Dolittle frowning.

"Are you crazy?" he said, "or didn't I hear straight? Talk to animals in their own language! Look 'ere: I've been in the show business thirty–seven years, knocked around with animals ever since I was a nipper. And I know there ain't no such thing as a man talking with a horse in horse language. You got a cheek to tell me a yarn like that—me, Alexander Blossom!"

The Fourth Chapter Another Talking Horse

"I am not telling you a yarn," said the Doctor quietly. "I am telling you the truth. But I can see that you will not believe me till I prove it to you."

"You bet I won't," sneered Blossom.

"Well, there are five horses in this stable, aren't there?" asked the Doctor. "And none of them can see me here where I stand, can they? Now if you will ask me to put some question to any one of them I will endeavor to give you his answer."

"Oh, you're crazy!" said Blossom. "I ain't got time to fool with you."

"All right," said the Doctor. "My intention was to help, as I told you. But, of course, if you don't want my assistance, then that ends the matter."

He shrugged his shoulders and turned away. The noise of clapping sounded from the big tent.

"Ask Beppo," said Blossom, "what's the number of the stall he's in."

Beppo's was the second from the end. On his door was marked a large "2" in white paint.

"Do you wish to have him tell me the answer in horse language?" asked the Doctor, "or shall I have him tap the number?"

"Have him tap the partition with his foot, Professor," sneered Blossom. "I don't know no horse grammar; and I couldn't tell, t'other way, whether you are faking or not."

"Very good," said the Doctor. And from where he stood, quite invisible to Beppo, he made some snuffy breathing noises— rather as though he had a cold in his head. Immediately two taps sounded from stall No. 2.

Blossom's eyebrows went up in surprise. But almost immediately he shrugged his shoulders.

"Pshaw!" Could easily 'ave been an accident. Maybe he just fell against the partition. Ask 'im—er—ask 'im 'ow many buttons I 'ave on my waistcoat—the one your cross–eyed assistant is wearing in the ring now."

"All right," said the Doctor. And he made some more snuffly noises, ending with a gentle whinny.

But this time, unintentionally, he did not include Beppo's name in his message. Now all the five horses in that stable knew Blossom's waistcoat very well, of course. And each one thought the question was being asked of him. Suddenly from every stall six sharp rags rang out, and even poor Nino, lying in the straw with eyes closed, stretched out a hind leg and weakly kicked his door six times. Mr. Blossom's eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of his head.

"Now," said the Doctor smiling, "in case you should think that that was accidental too, I will ask Beppo to pull down the rag you see there hanging on his partition and to throw it up in the air."

In response to a few more words of horse language the rag, whose end hung over the top of the partition, suddenly disappeared. The Doctor had not moved. Blossom ran down the stable to look inside stall No. 2. There he found the aged wagon horse tossing the rag up in the air and catching it—rather like a school girl playing with a handkerchief.

"Now do you believe me," asked the Doctor.

"Believe you!" cried Blossom. "I believe you're the Devil's younger brother. Just the same, you're the man I want, all right. Come on down to the dressing room and let's put some togs on you."

"Just a minute," said the Doctor. "What do you mean to do?"

"Dress you up," said Blossom, "of course. You're going to do a turn for us, ain't yet? Why you could take any cab horse and make a Nino of him. You said you was going to help me?"

"Yes," answered John Dolittle slowly, "and I will—after, as I told you, you have promised me a few things. I am willing to make Beppo provide your ring with a talking horse on certain condition. Nino's act doesn't come on till the end of the show. We have a half–hour to talk this over in."

"There's no need," cried Blossom, all excited. "I'll promise you any bloomin' things. Why, if you can talk animals' language we'll make a fortune in a season! Lor' bless us! I never believed you could do it. You ought to 'ave joined the show business years ago. You'd 'ave bin a rich man by now—instead of a broken–down country doctor. Come on over and we'll pick you out some nifty togs. Can't go on in them baggy trousers; people 'ud think you'd never bin on a horse in your life."

Blossom and the Doctor left the stable and made their way across to the dressing rooms where out of some of the well–traveled trunks the ringmaster began pulling costume after costume and piling them on the floor. Whilst he was going through the gaudy clothes the Doctor laid down the conditions under which he would give the performance.

"Now, Mr. Blossom," said he, "ever since I have been with your concern I have noticed certain things that were distasteful to my ideas of honest business and the humanitarian treatment of animals. Some of these I have brought to your attention and in almost all cases you refused to listen to me."

"Why, Doctor," said Mr. Blossom, yanking a pair of red Persian trousers out of a trunk, "how can you say such a thing? Didn't I get rid of Brown and Fatima because you objected to 'em?"

"'Why, Doctor, how can you say such a thing?'"

"You parted with them because you had to," said the Doctor, "not to oblige me. I have felt very uneasy about being part of a show which I did not consider strictly honest. It would take a long time to go into all the details. For the present, the bargain I am going to strike with you is this: Beppo, the horse I will use for the talking act, is far too old to work. He has been in service now thirty–five years. I want him, as a reward for this help which he will give you, to be pensioned off for the remainder of his days, made comfortable and given the kind of life he likes."

"I agree. Now how would this do?"

Blossom held up a cavalier's jerkin against the Doctor's chest. "No—too small. You ain't very high from the ground, but you're full–sized around the middle, all right."

"The other thing I want you to do," the Doctor went on, as Blossom turned back to the trunk for another costume, "is to put your menagerie in proper order. The cages are not cleaned often enough; some of the animals have not sufficient space for their needs, and many of them never get the kinds of food they like best."

"All right, Doc, we'll do anything in reason. I'll let you draw up a set of rules for the menagerie–keeper and you can see that he toes the line. 'Ow would you like to be a Western cowboy?"

"I wouldn't," said the Doctor. "They are inconsiderate to their cattle. And I don't approve of that silly business of flapping a hat in a horse's eyes to make him buck. Then, for the rest, I shall from time to time expect you to make many minor reforms for the animals' comfort. I shall expect you to treat my suggestions reasonably and cooperate with me for their welfare. What do you say?"

"I say it's a go, Doc," said Blossom. "We ain't begun yet. If you stay with my outfit for a year—with your gift of talking to animals—why!—I'll make every other circus look like a two–penny peepshow.—Oh, my! 'Ere's the very thing—a cavalry uniform—Twenty–first Huzzars. Just your size. Medals and all! Suits your complexion, too."

This time Blossom held a bright scarlet tunic over the Doctor's bosom and beamed on him with delight.

"Ever seen anything so nifty!" he chuckled. "My word! I tell yer— we'll make this town sit up! Could you get these things on your feet?"

"Oh, I dare say," said the Doctor, taking a gaudy pair of military riding boots from the ringmaster and sitting down to unlace his own. At that moment the door opened and a stable boy came in.

"Joe, you're just in time," said Blossom. "Run over to the stables and give Beppo a rub down with the currycomb. He's going to do an act."

"Beppo!" cried the boy incredulously.

"That's what I said, block–'ead!" shouted Blossom. "And put the green 'alter on 'im with the white rosettes—and braid 'is tail with a red ribbon. Hop about it!"

As the lad disappeared the clown with Swizzle entered for a short rest between acts. The Doctor, in smart regimental breeches and top boots, was now buttoning up the scarlet tunic about his chin.

"'Ow's my cross–eyed understudy doing?" asked Blossom.

"Governor, he's a wonder!" said Hop sinking into a chair. "A born ringmaster. You never heard such a voice. He's got a gift of the gab, all right. Ready with a joke if anybody slips; cracking quips with the audience—I tell you, governor, you've got to look to your laurels if you leave him with the ladies for long. Who's the military gentleman? My hat, it's the Doctor! What's he going to do?"

At this moment another lad ran in.

"Only ten minutes before the last act goes on, Mr. Blossom," he cried.

"All right," said Blossom. "We can do it. Here's your sword–belt, Doctor. How's the crowd, Frank?"

"Great!" said the boy. "Pleased as Punch! They brought the whole grammar school down at the last minute. And the Soldier's and Sailors' Home is coming to–night. People standing two deep in the aisles. It's the biggest business we've played to this year."

The Fifth Chapter The Star Turn Gives a Great Performance

Tremendous excitement now prevailed behind the scenes in Blossom's "Mammoth Circus." As the clown, Hop, opened the dressing room door to go back into the ring, mingled cheers and hand–clapping, the noise of a big audience's applause, reached the ears of John Dolittle and the manager.

"Listen, Hop," said Blossom, "pass the word to Mugg as you go back in that Nino is going to play anyway—in substitute—and the Doc here is doing the part of the trainer. Mugg can give 'em the introduction patter just the same. Tell 'im to lay it on thick. It's going to be the greatest little turn we ever showed—better than Nino at his best."

"'Listen, Hop!'"

"All right, governor," said the clown grinning through his paint. "But I wish you had picked a better–looking horse."

At the last moment one of the Doctor's shoulder straps was found to be loose. Only two minutes now remained before his act was due. Some one flew off and found Theodosia and with frantic haste she put it right with a needle and thread. Then, complete in his gay and wonderful uniform, the Doctor ran out of the dressing room to join his partner, Beppo, whose bridle was being held at the entrance to the big tent by the boy, Frank.

Poor Beppo did not look nearly as smart as the Doctor. Years of neglect and haphazard grooming could not be remedied by one curry–combing. His coat was long and dingy–looking, his mane straggly and unkempt. In spite of the smart, green and white headstall and the red ribbon in his plaited tail, he looked what he was: an old, old servant who had done his work faithfully for many, many years and got little credit or thanks for it.

"Oh, I say, Beppo!" the Doctor murmured in his ear as he took the bridle from Frank. "Anyone would think you were going to a funeral. Brace up! Draw your head back, high. That's it. Now blow out your nostrils.—Ah, much better!"

"You know, Doctor," said Beppo, "you mightn't believe it, but I come of a very good family. My mother used to trace her pedigree way back to the battle–charger that Julius Cæsar* used—the one he always rode when he reviewed the Prætorian Guard. My mother was very proud of it. She took first prizes, she did. But when the heavy battle chargers went out of fashion all the big military horses got put to draft work. That's how we came down in the world. Oughtn't we to rehearse this act a bit first? I've no idea of what I'm expected to do."

"No, we haven't time now," said John Dolittle. "We are liable to be called on any minute. But we'll manage. Just do everything I tell you —and put in an extras you think of yourself. Look out, you're drooping your head again. Remember your Roman ancestor. Chin up— that's the way. Arch your neck. Make your eyes flash. Look as though you were carrying an emperor who owned the earth.— Fine! That's the style! Now you look great."

Within the big canvas theatre, Mr. Matthew Mugg, ringmaster for a day, was still covering himself with glory, bossing "The Greatest Show on Earth" with creditable skill and introducing the performers with much oratory and unusual grammar. He was having the time of his life and making the most of it.

In between the turns of the Pinto Brothers and the Strong Man, he saw Hop return into the ring and recommence his arms which always so delighted the children. As the crown did a somersault past the ringmaster's nose, Matthew heard him whisper:

"The boss is putting on another talking horse with the Doctor playing the trainer. He wants you to introduce him the same as Nino."

"Right you are," Matthew whispered back. "I've got the idea."

And when Jojo, the dancing elephant, had bowed himself out amidst a storm of applause, the ringmaster stepped to the entrance flap and himself led forward the next, the star, turn.

For a moment old Beppo, accompanied by a short stout man in cavalry uniform, seemed a little scared to find a sea of faces staring down at him.

Motioning to the strange–looking performers to remain by the edge of the ring a moment, Matthew advanced into the center. With a lordly wave of the hand he silenced the wheezy band who were still finishing Jojo's last dance. And in the quiet that followed he looked up at the audience and filled his lungs for his last and most impressive speech.

"Ladies and gentleman," roared Ringmaster Mugg, "we 'ave now harrived at the last and most himportant act in our long and helegant program. You 'ave all 'eard. I'm sure, of Nino—Nino, the world–famous Talking Horse, and his gallant owner, the dashing Cossack cavalry officer, Captain Nicholas Pufftupski. There they are, ladies and gentlemen; you see them before you in the flesh. Kings and queens have traveled miles to witness their act. Only two months ago, when we are playing in Monte Carlo, we 'ad to turn away the Prime Minister of England because we 'adn't got a seat for 'im in the 'ouse.

"Nino, ladies and gentlemen, is very old. He came originally from the back steps of Siberia. His present owner, Major Pufftupski, bought 'im from the wandering Tartar tribes. Since then 'e 'as been through fifteen wars—which accounts for his wore–out appearance. This is the self–same 'orse what Colonel Pufftupski rode when, single 'anded 'e drove Napoleon out of Moscow and saved Russia from fallin' under the hiron 'eel of Bonaparte. And the centre one of them three medals you see 'anging on the Brigadier's chest is the one the Czar gave 'im as a reward for 'is brave hact."

"Oh, stop his nonsense, Matthew," whispered the Doctor coming up to him, dreadfully embarrassed. "There's no need to―—"

But the eloquent ringmaster hurried on with thunderous voice:

"So much, ladies and gentlemen, for the military career of this remarkable 'orse and 'is brave owner. General Pufftupski is a modest man and he forbids me to tell you about 'is other medals what was given 'im by the King of Sweden and the Empress of China. I now pass on to the hextraordinary hintelligence of the animal you see before you. On 'is way back from chasing Napoleon out of Russia, Count Pufftupski was took prisoner—and 'is 'orse, the famous Nino, with 'im. During their himprisonment they became very hintimate. So much so that at the end of the two years while they was captives of the French, Nino and 'is owner could talk to one another freely—the same as you and I might do. If you don't believe what I say you can prove it for yourselves. All you 'ave to do is to ask any question of Nino through his owner and it will be answered— if it 'as an answer. The Field Marshal talks all languages except Japanese. If any Japanese ladies or gentlemen in the audience wants to ask questions they'll 'ave to turn 'em into some other language first. Marshal Pufftupski will open 'is performance with this marvelous 'orse with a few tricks just to show you what they can do. Ladies and gentlemen, I 'ave great pleasure in introducing to you the Archduke Nicholas Pufftupski, Commander–in–Chief of the Russian army, and 'is battle charger, the one and only, world–famous NINO."

"'The Commander–in–Chief of the Russian army'"

As the band played a few opening chords the Doctor and Beppo stepped forward to the centre of the ring and bowed. A tremendous burst of applause came from the people.

It was a strange performance, the only one of its kind ever given to a circus audience. The Doctor, when he entered the ring, had no definite idea of what he was going to do—neither had Beppo. But the old, old veteran knew that the performance was going to win him comfort and freedom from work for the rest of his days. Every one in a while during the course of the act he would forget his noble ancestry and slump back into his usual weary, worn–out appearance. But on the whole, as Hop said afterward, he made a much better–looking show horse than anyone had expected; and so far as the audience was concerned, his success surpassed anything Blossom had ever exhibited.

After doing a few tricks Colonel Pufftupski turned to the people and offered (in remarkably good English) to make the horse do anything they asked. Immediately a little boy in front row cried out:

"Tell him to come over here and take my hat off."

The Doctor made a sign or two and Beppo went straight to the boy, lifted the cap from his head and put it into his hand. Then numberless questions were shouted by the audience, and to every one Beppo gave an answer—sometimes by tapping the floor, sometimes by shaking his head, and sometimes by word of mouth which the Doctor translated. The people enjoyed it so much that Blossom, watching through a slit outside, thought they'd never be done. And when at last the gallant Pufftupski led his horse out of the ring the audience clapped and cheered and called to him again and again to come back and receive their applause.

The news of the wonderful success of the circus's first performance in Bridgeton, mostly brought about by the marvelous Talking Horse, quickly spread through the town. And long before the evening show was due people were lined up outside the big tent, four deep, waiting patiently to make sure of seats; while the rest of the enclosure and all the side shows were packed and thronged so tight that you could hardly move through the crowds.

The Sixth Chapter Beppo the Great

The money, over the spending of which poor Dab–Dab had so worried, was soon replaced in the Dolittle savings box. The addition of six snakes to the Doctor's household was not an expensive one in upkeep—even though the good housekeeper continued to plead and argue with John Dolittle for the ousting of what she called the messy, squirmy creatures. But during the days at Bridgeton the throngs that crowded into the enclosure left so many sixpences at the booth of the "Two–headed animal from the jungles of Africa" that soon Too–Too prophesied the record takings of the Ashby week would be easily beaten.

"I estimate, Doctor," said he, putting his mathematical head on one side and closing his left eye, "that in six days we should easily make sixteen pounds—and that's not allowing for any extra business on the market day or Saturday."

"And most of that you can put down to the Doctor's act with Beppo," said Jip. "If it wasn't for that turn, and the talk it has made, the crowds wouldn't be half so big."

Finding what a success John Dolittle's performance was making, Blossom came to him after the first showing and begged him to keep it up for the whole of the week that the circus stayed at Bridgeton.

"Well, but look here," said John Dolittle, "I've promised Beppo that he would be pensioned off for obliging you in your emergency. I don't know how soon Nino will be able to work again; but I did not say anything to Beppo about acting all week. I supposed you would put something else in our place as soon as you had time to look around."

"Good Lord, Doctor!" said Blossom. "I couldn't find anything to take the place of your act if I looked around for a year. There's never been anything like it since the circus was invented. The news of it has gone all over the town—and a good ways outside of it, too. They say folks are coming all the way from Whittlethorpe to see your turn. Listen, can't you ask Beppo to oblige us? It ain't heavy work for 'im. Tell 'im we'll give 'im anything 'e likes—asparagus for breakfast and a feather bed to sleep in—if 'e only says the word. My outfit, with the sideshows and all, is taking in pretty near fifty pounds a day now. Never saw such business! If this keeps up we shan't 'ave to stay in the game long before we're all on easy street."

There was something of contempt in the Doctor's face as he looked at Blossom and paused a moment before answering.

"Oh, yes," he said rather sadly, "you're willing enough to treat your poor old servant well now, aren't you?—now he is bringing you in money. For years and years he has worked for you and never even got his coat brushed in return—just enough hay and oats to keep him going. Now you'll give anything in the world. Money! Bah! It's a curse."

"Well," said Blossom, "I'm helping to make up for it now, ain't I? It ain't 'eavy work, answering questions and doin' tricks. You go and talk to 'im, Doctor. Lord bless me! Don't it sound queer ?— me asking you to go and talk to 'im—and twenty–four hours ago I didn't know there ever was such a thing as talking to 'orses!"

"Except with a whip," said John Dolittle. "I wish I could put you in his place and make you work thirty–five years for Beppo in return for hay and water and a lot of beating and neglect. All right, I'll put your request before him and see what he says. But remember, his decision is to be final. If he refuses to give one single performance more I shall hold you to your promise—a comfortable home for him and a good pasture to graze in for the rest of his life. And I almost hope he'll say no."

The Doctor turned on his heel and leaving the ringmaster's wagon set off toward the stables.

"Poor old Beppo!" he murmured. "His ancestor carried Julius Cæsar in military reviews—heard the legions cheer the conqueror of the world who sat astride his back! Poor old Beppo!"

When he entered the stables he found the wagon horse gazing out of the window of his stall at the pleasant fields that lay beyond the circus enclosure.

"Is that you, John Dolittle?" said he, as the Doctor opened the door. "Have you come to take me away?"

"Beppo," said John Dolittle, putting his hand on the veteran's gaunt and bony back, "it seems you are now a great man—I mean a great horse."

"How's that, Doctor? I don't understand."

"You've become famous, Beppo. This is a funny world. And we humans, I often think, are the funniest animals in it. Mr. Blossom has just found out after you have been in his service for thirty–five years, how valuable and intelligent you are."

"In what way valuable?"

"Because you talk, Beppo."

"But I've always talked."

"Yes, I know. But Mr. Blossom and the world didn't know until I proved it to them in the circus ring. You have made a great sensation, Beppo, just on the eve of your retirement. Now, they don't want you to retire. They want you to continue being wonderful— just talking, the way you've always done."

"It sounds crazy, doesn't it, Doctor?"

"Perfectly. But you have suddenly become so valuable to Blossom that he will give you asparagus for breakfast, a valet to brush your coat and another to curl your mane if you'll only stay and act for him for the rest of the week."

"Humph! That's what it means to be famous, does it? I'd sooner be turned out into a nice big field."

"Well, Beppo, you are to suit yourself—at last, after thirty–five years of suiting other people. I've told Blossom I'm going to hold him to his bargain. If you don't want to do it, say so. You shall retire to–day if you wish."

"What would you advise me to do, Doctor?"

"There is this about it," said John Dolittle, "if you give Blossom what he wants now, we may be able to get you what you want— that is, more exactly what you want—later. You see, he has no farm of his own to put you on; he would have to get a farmer to graze you and take care of you for him. And besides, he will probably be better disposed toward me and some plans I have for the other animals."

"All right, Doctor," said Beppo. "Then that settles it. I'll do it."

There was no happier man in the world than Alexander Blossom when John Dolittle came and told him that Beppo had consented to act all the week. He at once got handbills printed and had them sent to the neighboring towns and given away in the streets. These told the public that the World–Famous Talking Horse was to be seen at Bridgeton for only four remaining days, and that those who did not miss the chance of a lifetime had better hurry up and come to "Blossom's Mammoth Circus."

"He had handbills given away in the streets"

The Doctor was caused considerable embarrassment during the special parades through the streets which were arranged for Beppo by having himself pointed out as the Archduke Pufftupski, the famous horse's owner and trainer. For this absurd title, which Matthew had bestowed on the Doctor, the manager insisted on his sticking to.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of that week were each record–breakers for Blossom's box office. For the first time in his life the ringmaster had to turn people away from the gates of his circus. The crowding of the enclosure reached a point where he was afraid to let any more in. The police of Bridgeton had to lend him nearly their whole force to keep the throngs in order and to see that no accidents happened in the crush.

Nothing succeeds like success. It was only necessary to have the news go through the town that people were being turned away, to make twice the number clamor for admission. "Bridgeton Week" came to be spoken of among the show folk for a long time afterward as the outstanding period in the circus's whole career.

The Seventh Chapter The Perfect Pasture

In the mean time John Dolittle was making Blossom fulfill the other parts of his bargain. It was not long after the circus had opened at Bridgeton that the elephant sent Jip for the Doctor because he was suffering from an acute attack of rheumatism—brought on by living in an exceedingly damp and dirty stable.

The poor creature was in considerable pain. The Doctor, after examining, prescribed massage. Blossom was sent for and ordered to buy a barrel of a special costly kind of balm. A few weeks before, of course, the ringmaster would have flatly refused to go to such an expense for his animal's comfort. But now, with John Dolittle bringing him in the biggest business that his show had ever seen, he was ready to do almost anything to please him. The balm was sent for right away and then the Doctor demanded six strong men to help him.

Massaging an elephant is no light work. A large audience gathered in the menagerie to watch the six men and the Doctor crawling over the elephant's body, rubbing and pummelling the ointment into his hide till the sweat ran from their foreheads.

"Massaging the elephant"

Then the Doctor ordered a new stable built for the big creature, with a special kind of wooden floor with drainage under it and a lot of other up–to–date features. And, although this work was also expensive, carpenters were brought in and it was completed in three hours. The result was that the elephant got well in a very short time.

The Doctor also drew up rules for the menagerie–keeper which improved the condition of all the other animals. And in spite of the fact that the keeper grumbled a good deal about "running a zoo like a beauty parlor," Blossom made him understand that he would be discharged immediately if the Doctor's new regulations were not strictly obeyed.

Poor Nino was still pretty sick. He was getting better, but his recovery was dreadfully slow. The Doctor visited him twice a day. But Blossom now realized that the cob's act, which had always been done under his own guidance, could never take the place of the far finer performance of Beppo and the Doctor. Beppo, his age and appearance notwithstanding, was a much cleverer horse than Nino.

Well, the week wore on toward its end. John Dolittle had made arrangements with Blossom that after the last performance on Saturday he and Beppo were to leave and go away to a certain farmer who had agreed to keep the old horse in good grazing for the remainder of his days. He was to have all the oats he wanted and white radishes (a delicacy that Beppo was particularly fond of) twice a week. The Doctor and Beppo were going to inspect this farm, and if they didn't like it, another one to their satisfaction was to be found.

The last performance was over; the big tent was being pulled down and the Doctor and Beppo were all ready for their departure. The old horse's luggage consisted of a blanket (a new one that Doctor had made Blossom buy as a farewell present) which he wore. The Doctor's luggage was his little black bag and a small bundle, which was also carried on Beppo's back. John Dolittle was standing at the gate, his hand on Beppo's bridle waiting for Matthew, who had run back to the wagon to get some sandwiches which Dab–Dab was preparing.

Presently he saw Blossom hurrying across the enclosure in a great state of excitement. A little way behind walked a short, very smartly–dressed man.

"Listen, Doc," panted the ringmaster coming up, "I've just had the biggest offer I ever got in my life. That toff coming along is the proprietor of the Manchester Amphitheatre. He wants my outfit to show in his theatre—one of the biggest in the country—week after next. And 'e especially wants Beppo. What do you think he guarantees us? A hundred pounds a day! And maybe more if―—"

"No!" the Doctor interrupted firmly, holding up his hand. "Beppo may not have many more years to live, but what he has he's going to spend in comfort. Tell that to your manager. Beppo retires—to–day—from the circus business for good."

And without waiting for his sandwiches, he led the old horse out of the enclosure and hurried down the road.

Beppo and John Dolittle had not gone very far before they were overtaken by Too–Too.

"Doctor," said the owl, "I came after you to let you know about the money."

"Too–Too," John Dolittle replied, "at the present moment the subject of money is more than usually distasteful to me. Beppo and I are trying to get away from the very smell of it."

"But just think what you can do with money, Doctor," said Too–Too.

"Yes, that's the trouble with the beastly stuff. It's the power of it that makes it such a curse."

"Dab–Dab asked me," Too–Too went on, "to come and let you know how much the pushmi–pullyu had made this week at Bridgeton, because she thought perhaps you might think of retiring to Puddleby when you heard. I only just got it figured out—deducting Blossom's share and the bills we owe the tradespeople. It was a big piece of arithmetic, I can tell you. My estimate was way off. Instead of sixteen pounds, we made twenty–six pounds, thirteen shillings and tenpence, clear profit."

"Humph," murmured the Doctor. "It's a large amount, but not enough for us to retire on, Too–Too. Still it would go quite a long way toward it. Tell Dab–Dab to keep it safely for me and we will talk over the matter when I get back. I am returning to–morrow, you know. Good–by—and thank you very much for bringing me the news."

Now, the Doctor had in his pocket the address of the farmer to whom they were going. Imagine his surprise on reading his destination to find that it was the same farm as the one where his old friend, the plow horse, lived!

There were hearty greetings, a good deal of astonishment and much joy at the meeting. The old plow horse, beaming through his green spectacles, was introduced to Beppo and Beppo was introduced to him. It was curious that although the Doctor had known the plow horse for so long he had never heard his name. And it was only on introducing the two old horses to one another that he learned it for the first time. It was Toggle.

"The old plow horse was introduced to Beppo"

"You know," said the plow horse, "I am tremendously glad to see you both, but I am a little sorry, for Beppo's sake, that it was to this farm that Blossom sent him. The farmer himself is a very decent follow, but this pasture I have here leaves a good deal to be desired."

"But we don't have to stay here," said the Doctor. "I told Blossom that if it did not meet with Blossom's approval he must find another. In what way is this place unsuitable? Is the grass bad?"

"No," said Toggle, "the grass is all right—a little rank in August if there's much rain, but it's sweet enough most of the year. But the meadow slopes the wrong way. You see, this hillside is facing northeast. It's only in midsummer that you get any sun. It stays behind the hill the rest of the year. Then the prevailing wind is a cold northeaster that blows across the meadow, and there's little protection from it—excepts along that hedge over there and one soon eats up that bit of grass."

"Well, tell me," said the Doctor, turning to Beppo, "what, for you, would be the ideal, the most attractive place for an old horses' home?"

"The place I've always dreamed of," said Beppo, gazing across the landscape with a wistful look in his old eyes, "is like this— part of it is sloping and part of it is flat. Slopes are such a nice change: the grass is nearer to your nose, and the flats are restful to get back to after the slopes. Then it has trees, big spreading trees with fat trunks—the kind horses love to stand under and think—after a hearty meal. It has a copse where herbs and wild roots grow, the sorts we love to nibble for a change—especially the wild mint, which is soothing to the stomach when you've eaten too much. It has good water—not a muddy, little pond, but a decent brook where the water is always sparkling and clear. In a hollow it has a nice old shelter with a dry floor and a mossy, tiled roof that doesn't let the rain in. The pasture varies: some places are firm, croppy* turf; others are deep, luscious, long hay–grass with buttercups and fragrant wild flowers mixed in it. At the top of the hilly part you can get a view of the sunsets to the westward and the south. And on the summit there is a good firm post to scratch your neck on. I love to watch the sun go down as I scratch my neck of an evening. The whole place is protected with good fences from snappy dogs and worrisome people. It is quiet. It is peaceful. And that, John Dolittle, is the place where I would spend my old age."

"Humph!" murmured the Doctor when Beppo had ended. "Your description sounds delightful—almost like the place where I'd wish to spend my own old age—thought I suppose I'd want a little more furniture than a scratching post. Toggle, do you know of a pasture such as this that Beppo speaks of?"

"I do, indeed, Doctor," said Toggle. "Come with me and I'll show you."

Then the plow horse led them over the brow of the hill and down the other side a way. Here, facing the sunny southward, they looked over a farm gate into the loveliest meadow you ever saw. It was almost as if some fairy had made old Beppo's wish come true, for it was the retreat he had described in every detail: there was the clump of great elm trees; there was the copse and the sparkling brook; there was the snug shelter in the hollow; and on the summit of the slope, against the red glow of the setting sun, stood the post for Beppo to scratch his neck on.

"This is it, Doctor," said Beppo quietly. "This is the spot—just as I had always planned it. No horse could ask for any better place to pass his old age."

"It's wonderful," said the Doctor, himself entirely captivated by the beauty of the scene. "It has character that meadow. Does this land belong to your farmer, Toggle?"

"No," said the plow horse. "I've often tried to break in here and graze. And I did get through the hedge, once or twice, but the owner always chased me out again. It belongs to a farmer who lives in the little house down there with the red roof."

"I see," said the Doctor. "I wonder how much a piece of ground like that would cost."

"Not very much, I shouldn't think," said Toggle. "Although it is large, the farmer has never raised anything but hay on it."

"But, Doctor," said Beppo, "why buy it? I thought you said Blossom was going to pay for my pensioning off."

"Yes," said the Doctor. "But he has only agreed to pay for your board and lodging. I've always had an idea I'd like to start a Home for Retired Cab and Wagon Horses. And this place is such an ideal one for aged horses that I thought, if I could, I'd buy it. Then we would form 'The Retired Cab and Wagon Horses' Association' and you could keep the place for your own for good."

"What a marvelous idea!" cried both horses together.

"But have you got enough money, Doctor?" asked Beppo. "Jip often told me that you were as poor as a church mouse."

"That is so—more or less," the Doctor agreed. "Money with me has always been a most uncertain thing. But, as you heard Too–Too come and tell me shortly after we had left the circus, I am now some twenty–six pounds to the good. I owe a sailor a lot of money for a boat, but his need is not so urgent as your own—I sent a bird to find out, so I know. I can make some more money later on to pay him with. Of course, twenty–six pounds is not enough to buy a piece of land that big, outright. But perhaps the farmer will let me pay so much down and the rest by installments every year. If he will, it become yours right away and nobody can take it away from you —unless I fail in my payments. Now, you two wait here and I'll go and see him about it."

Leaving the two horses by the gate, the Doctor set off across country for the little red–roofed house that Toggle had pointed out.

"They looked over a wide farm gate"

The Eighth Chapter The Retired Cab and Wagon Horses' Association

Now, the farmer who owned the land which the Doctor wished to buy was, at the moment when John Dolittle knocked upon his door, sitting at his parlor table talking to Toggle's farmer. He was sorely in need of twenty pounds to buy seed potatoes with. But Toggle's farmer, with many apologies, had been compelled to refuse him because he himself was very short of money at this time. It was this conversation which the Doctor's call interrupted.

"John Dolittle knocked upon his door"

The farmer was very hospitable and invited John Dolittle to come in and sit down at the table with his other guest. Mugs of fragrant cider were brought in by the host's wife. Then the Doctor described the piece of ground which Toggle had shown him and asked if it was for sale. And as it was one which the farmer seldom used he immediately said yes, it was. For how much, the Doctor asked. For one hundred and twenty pounds, the farmer told him.

"Well," said the Doctor. "I only have twenty–six pounds at present. Suppose I gave you that down and promised to pay the rest in twenty–pound installments every six months: would you let me have it?"

The farmer, seeing a chance of getting his seed potatoes, was going to agree at once, but the other, Toggle's farmer, broke into the conversation.

"What be you going to use the land for, stranger?" he asked. "You ain't thinkin' of puttin' up no glue factory, I hope."

"Oh, no," said the Doctor. "I want to make it into a rest farm for old horses—just a grazing ground. Practically nothing will be altered."

The two farmers thought the stranger must be crazy. But, as he and the plan he proposed seemed harmless enough, they readily gave in.

"By the way," said the Doctor, still speaking to Toggle's owner, "you have a friend of mine at your farm, a plow horse; he wears spectacles which I gave him years ago when he lived in Puddleby."

"Oh, aye," said the farmer. "I know 'un—Toggle. A queer beast, that. 'E wouldn't be parted from them specs for anything. What about 'im?"

"He is too old to work, isn't he?" said the Doctor. "You let him graze now most of the time, I understand. He wishes to use this same pasture with the horse I have brought to–day. Will you let him?"

"That I will," said the farmer. "But how come you to know all this about my cattle?"

"Oh, well," said the Doctor, looking sort of embarrassed, "I have ways of my own knowing what horses want. I'm a naturalist."

"Sounds like you was an unnaturalist to me," said the farmer, winking at his neighbor.

After a little discussion on how the first money would be sent, the bargain was closed and the Doctor was told that now, so long as his part of the arrangement was fulfilled, the land belonged to him.

"Not to me," he said as he rose and bade the farmers farewell. "The land belongs to the Association. I am turning it over to the horses themselves."

Having inquired of his host where he could find a carpenter, the Doctor left. And when, a half hour later, the two farmers walked across the field together they saw the strange naturalist and the carpenter busily putting up a large signboard in the middle of the pasture. On it was written in big letters:

REST FARM THIS LAND IS THE PROPERTY OF THE RETIRED CAB AND WAGON HORSES' ASSOCIA TION. TRESPASSERS AND VICIOUS DOGS WILL BE KICKED. BY ORDER, ( Signed, on behalf of the Committee.) BEPPO, President. TOGGLE, Vice–President.

NOTE―MEMBERSHIP FREE

FOR ADMISSION APPLY AT THE GATE

Well, after seeing the first two members of "The Association" enter into possession of their new quarters, John Dolittle bade Beppo and Toggle farewell and set off on his return journey.

As he passed down the road he looked back many times to watch the two old veterans prancing around their beautiful new home. The sight warmed his heart and he smiled as he hurried on.

"I'm not sure," he murmured to himself, "but I think that is almost the best job I ever did. Poor creatures! They are happy at last, growing young again after a life of hard work. I must establish some more institutions like that. I've one or two in mind. The Rat and Mouse Club, for instance. I'd like to see that started. Of course, I shall get in a frightful row over this from Dab–Dab when she finds out that I've spent all the money again. Oh, well, it's worth it. I'll send some London cab horses down to join them as soon as I get to the city again. Humph!"—(the Doctor paused and looked back)—"There they are—at it still—Beppo rolling down the hill and Toggle splashing through the brook.—Great heavens! I forgot all about the radishes. Why didn't Beppo remind me?"

He hurried back. On the way he met a lad playing in the road. Questioning him, he found he was the son of a farmer who had sold the land.

"Would you like to earn a shilling a week?" asked the Doctor.

"'Would you like to earn a shilling a week?'"

"I'd like to earn a shilling a month," said the boy. "I want to save up and buy some skates for next winter. I've only got ninepence so far."

"Do you know how to grow radishes?"

"Yes," answered the boy. "That's easy. They're about the only thing I can grow."

"Very good," said John Dolittle. "Now, you see that meadow where the horses are—and the shelter at the bottom? Well, I've just bought that land from your father. It's to be a home for horses. If you'll plant me a radish bed behind the shelter, the white kind, you know, I'll pay you a shilling a week for keeping it in order. Are you willing?"

"I should say I am, Sir!" cried the boy.

"All right. Here's your first shilling—and here's a penny to buy a packet of seed with. I appoint you head gardener to the Rest Farm. You're now on the payroll of the Retired Cab and Wagon Horses' Association. Make the radish bed fairly big, because I may be sending down some more horses later. When the radishes are ripe, you make them up into bunches and hand them out to the members twice a week. And don't forget to plant new seed every so often, to keep up the supply. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now give me your Christian name," said the Doctor, "and I'll send you your wages every week. And if you should have to leave your job—to go away or anything—get your father to write me a letter. He knows how to reach me."

The boy, pleased as Punch with his good luck, gave the Doctor his name, took his money and ran off to get a spade and fork and start his new work.

"Well, so that's that," the Doctor murmured as he hurried on toward Bridgeton. "Now, I must try to think out a way to break the news gently to Dab–Dab that our money–box is emptied again."

The Rest Farm which the Doctor established that day continued to flourish and grow for many years. And another worry was added to the many which harassed Dab–Dab, the careful housekeeper. For not only had the Doctor bound himself to send the farmer twenty pounds every six months, but he further reduced the Dolittle fortunes by buying, every once in a while, some specially old and weary horse which he would meet on the streets. He bought them from cab drivers, from rag–and–bone men, from all sorts of people. Poor Dab–Dab used to be terrified when she saw a gypsy wagon come in sight on the road. For gypsies' horses were always particularly thin and scrawny–looking, and it was almost certain that the Doctor would try to buy the poor creatures from men who were much better skilled than he in shrewd bargaining.

All these old waifs and wrecks of horses the Doctor would send down to the Rest Farm to be made free members of the Association. Beppo's and Toggle's partnership grew into quite a family circle of old cronies—horses from all walks of life. And many were the interesting tales of bygone days told beneath the big trees of an evening or around the post on top of the hill. Here the old fellows would stand in line, waiting to scratch their necks, watching the beauty of the peaceful landscape grow dim in the red glow of the setting sun.

And still the membership list grew longer and longer. The boy who kept the radish garden sent a letter to the Doctor, saying he had had to enlarge the bed and needed help. He had a school friend, he wrote, who was also saving up to buy skates. Would the Doctor employ him too?

The Doctor did; and the payroll of the Association advanced to two shillings a week. John Dolittle paid a visit to the farm after it had been going for about three months. On consulting with the committee (five of the oldest veterans), he found that money was required for repairing fences and keeping the ditches clear beneath the hedges. Some of the members needed their hoofs trimmed (they didn't bother to wear shoes, of course). So he arranged with the lad he had first appointed as gardener to extend the radish bed considerably, in order that quite a large crop of vegetables could be grown—more than was needed for the members.

The lad had a good head for business and this was done; and two more friends of his were employed for the extra work. Then the money that was made by selling the vegetables was used to form a "Fencing and Farriers' Fund,"—to hire hedgers and ditchers and blacksmiths every so often to keep the fences in repair and to trim the members' hoofs.

Paying the extra boys, of course, took still more from the Dolittle money box—and added still more to the worries of Dab–Dab the housekeeper.

"What's the use?" cried Too–Too one evening when they were discussing accounts—"what's the use of my doing all this double–entry bookkeeping—making my head fairly ache with arithmetic? It doesn't do any good to calculate how much the Doctor has—or to estimate how much he's going to have. No matter what it is, he spends it all!"

"'What's the use?' cried Too–Too"