Joe saw that he was gaining a new kind of advantage. After all, he could get another dog just as good as this one free of charge himself. If he stalled long enough, there was no telling what this boy might offer him. “I don’t know,” he said, not committing himself. “We’re pretty busy. Anyway, I don’t think he is your dog. He’s happy here.”
“I know he’s my dog.” Henry sounded worried. Then he seemed to have an idea. “Hey, I know. Let me talk to him.”
This took Joe by surpise. “On the phone?”
“Sure,” said Henry, sounding as if he talked to dogs on the telephone all the time.
Joe was scornful of this suggestion. He did not believe a dog would pay any attention to a voice on a telephone, so he did not mind letting the boy try. “Just a minute,” he said.
Ribsy heard Joe’s fingers snapping for him to come. Obediently he got up and trotted into the hall.
“Here, somebody wants to talk to you,” said Joe, holding the telephone to Ribsy’s ear.
“Hiya, Ribsy!” Henry’s voice came clearly through the telephone so that Joe could hear, too. “How’s Ribsy?”
It worked. Ribsy began to bark.
“Ribsy!” Henry was shouting. “Ribsy! It is you!”
Well, what do you know? thought Joe. A dog would talk on a telephone.
Ribsy barked harder. He could not understand where Henry could be, but he recognized the voice coming out of the black thing Joe was holding to his ear. Maybe if he barked hard enough, Henry would come out from wherever he was hiding.
“Ribs!” Henry shouted again. “Ribsy!”
Joe, who was now sure of a reward, felt that a conversation that consisted of barks and a dog’s name yelled into a telephone was not getting anyplace. Ribsy’s nose told him that Henry was not in the living room or even in the house and so, as Joe put the telephone back against his own ear, he ran to the front door. When it was not opened instantly, he began to bark wildly and scratch at the wood. Henry had to be someplace on the other side.
The startled Saylors stared at him until Darlene darted across the room and opened the door. Still barking, Ribsy ran out into the night. “Ribsy!” The boy’s voice came faintly from the telephone in the hall. “Ribsy, what happened to you?”
Back on the Saylors’ porch Ribsy heard Joe shouting to his sister, “What did you let him go for? There’s a reward for him! Ten whole dollars!”
And Darlene answered, “When a dog wants out, you’re supposed to let him go. How was I to know he was worth so much?”
Then Joe’s feet came pounding down the sidewalk behind Ribsy. “Ribsy!” he called. “Ribsy! Come back here!”
Ribsy wasn’t going back. Henry was somewhere close by, and he was going to find him.
7
Ribsy and the Apartment House
Henry pressed the telephone against his ear as hard as he could. He heard a lot of barking, and then he heard Joe yell, “What did you let him go for? There’s a reward for him! Ten whole dollars!” There was an answer in a girl’s voice, which Henry could not catch, the sound of thumping feet, and then nothing but the sound of a television set, tuned to a program with a lot of shooting, which his parents would not let him watch.
“I don’t get it,” said Henry to his mother and father, who had been following his side of the conversation. “There was a lot of barking, and now there isn’t anyone on the line. Anybody home?” he asked into the telephone in a loud voice. There was no answer, only gunfire from the television set.
“Hang on a minute and see what happens,” said Mr. Huggins. “Now that we’re this close to Ribsy we can’t let him get away.”
Henry strained to catch any sound that might come through the telephone. He heard barks that grew fainter, yelling, arguing, and finally a click as someone in the Saylor household replaced the telephone receiver. That click was as final as a period at the end of a sentence. Slowly he replaced the receiver. He thought a moment, and then said, “At least Ribsy recognized me. That’s something.”
When Ribsy could run no more, he flopped down on the sidewalk in the dark to pant. As soon as he had caught his breath he got up again and started off at a brisk trot with his nose to the ground. The trouble was he did not know where he was going. It was all very puzzling. He had heard Henry Huggins’s voice, but he could not find Henry. He stopped and barked, thinking that Henry would call. When there was no answer he continued his search, hoping his nose would guide him.
The sidewalk gave Ribsy the scent of many people and of a variety of dogs and of a cat or two, but it did not give him the scent of Henry. Ribsy became tired, confused, and bewildered. Late that night he gave up looking for Henry and went to sleep on the cold concrete in front of the Coffee Cup Café, where the lingering smell of hamburgers, fried during the day, gave him some comfort.
Early the next morning Ribsy woke up, feeling stiff and hungry. The Coffee Cup Café was not open, so he walked around to the back door, where he found a garbage can that smelled interesting. It must have smelled interesting to some other dog, too, because the can had been tipped over and garbage was strewn around the ground. Ribsy helped himself to some bits of bun, which were smeared with more relish than he cared for. He also ate the remains of a piece of pie. The best garbage had already been eaten, but at least his stomach was no longer completely empty.
Ribsy wandered aimlessly around the neighborhood, which did not look at all like Klickitat Street with its green lawns and white houses surrounded by shrubbery. There was very little grass in this neighborhood and not many bushes, although there were a number of fire hydrants. Many of the buildings came right to the sidewalk, and most of them were of brick and were three or four stories high.
It was in front of one of these buildings that Ribsy first saw the boy with the tennis ball. He was a thin boy, somewhat round-shouldered, who was sitting on the front steps tossing the ball from one hand to the other. Naturally Ribsy was interested in a boy with a tennis ball.
While Ribsy was watching the boy, a young woman came out of the apartment house. She was wearing a black coat over the starched dress and apron of a waitress. “Now see here, Larry Biggerstaff,” she said, “you keep out of trouble today, you hear?”
“Yeah, Mom.” Larry stopped tossing the ball.
Ribsy decided he did not like the smell of this woman. It reminded him of violet bubble bath.
“I don’t want to hear any more complaints from the manager about you,” continued his mother. “Last Saturday Mrs. Kreech complained that you played a mouth organ in the hall, bounced a ball so that it disturbed the lady downstairs, and tried to climb down the fire escape. Keep it up, and you’ll get us evicted, and then where will we go?”
Larry heaved a big sigh to show that he was disgusted with the whole situation. “But Mom, there’s nothing to do. I don’t even have a good ball to take to the playground.”
“I don’t have money to buy balls,” said his mother. “At noon you come to the café and get your lunch. And in the meantime, keep out of trouble.” She left the apartment house and hurried down the street toward the Coffee Cup Café.
Larry began to bounce the tennis ball, which was old and had lost much of its life. He had to throw it down hard to make it bounce at all. Nevertheless, the sight was a stimulating one to Ribsy. He pranced right up to Larry and wagged his tail to show that he was ready to play.
Larry did not understand. “Go away, you old dog,” he said crossly, and muttered, “I don’t even have a good ball.”
This boy needed educating. Ribsy barked to tell him that here was a dog ready to play with a tennis ball. Larry backed away.
Ribsy wagged his tail and looked eager, but this only made Larry cautious. Plainly Ribsy would have to show this boy how to play. He bowed before Larry, ran off a little way, and then came dashing back. Larry dropped the ball, and Ribsy picked it up.
“You gimme back my ball,” said Larry.
Ribsy dropped the ball and stood over it, wagging his tail.<
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Cautiously Larry advanced toward the ball, but when he was about to pick it up, Ribsy grabbed it in his jaws and went racing up the street.
“Hey!” yelled Larry.
Ribsy raced back, dropped the ball at Larry’s feet, and stood waving his tail and looking hopefully up at the boy.
“Well, thanks, pal,” said Larry, surprised and pleased.
“Wuf!” answered Ribsy.
The boy finally understood. He threw the ball down the street, and Ribsy bounded after it, darting between the people who were walking along the sidewalk, and catching it on the first bounce. He was delighted and so was Larry. The boy threw the ball again and again for Ribsy to retrieve. Finally Larry sat down on the front steps of the apartment house, and Ribsy threw himself down at his feet to pant.
“You’re a pretty nice dog,” remarked Larry. “I’d sure like to keep you, but Old Lady Kreech would never let me.”
Ribsy laid his nose on his paws and looked up at Larry, who returned Ribsy’s gaze. “You hungry?” Larry asked.
Ribsy thumped his tail on the sidewalk. He liked having a boy talk to him.
Larry liked having a dog to talk to. “If you was a big cross dog, I bet Old Lady Kreech would stop yelling at me. She’d be scared to yell if I had a big dog following me around.”
Ribsy rolled over on his back and allowed Larry to rub his stomach for him.
“You wait here,” said Larry. “No, that wouldn’t work. You might run off while I was getting you something to eat. Can you be real quiet?”
Again Ribsy thumped his tail.
“Come on then. I’ll get you some cornflakes or a wienie or something,” said Larry, and pulled a key out of his pocket. Ribsy followed him up the stairs, and Larry unlocked the front door. Inside he tiptoed past the door of the apartment occupied by the manager of the building to an old-fashioned elevator. Ribsy was ready to enjoy this new game the boy was playing. Larry opened a glass door and folded back a metal gate, and Ribsy followed him into what appeared to be a small square room without windows. Larry closed the gate and the door, and pushed a button on the wall.
There was a whirring noise, and suddenly Ribsy had a feeling he had never felt before. He felt as if he was going up while his stomach stayed down. He did not like the feeling one bit. He did not like this strange little room. He wanted out right now. He began to bark.
“Sh-h-h!” Larry seemed upset about something, because he scowled and grabbed at Ribsy. “Sh-h-h! She’ll hear you.”
The manager had already heard. A door on the first floor flew open, and a woman’s cross voice called up, “Larry Biggerstaff. You get that dog out of this building at once!” It was the kind of voice that could make a dog slink away feeling guilty.
By that time the little room had stopped at the second floor. Larry slid back the gate and opened the glass door. Before he stepped out, he whispered, “You stay right here. I’ll come back and get you in a minute.” Then he left the frightened dog and shut him in the little room. Ribsy did not know what to do. He did not want to stay in the little room alone, but there was no way he could get out. He was even afraid to bark, so he made little anxious noises. Suddenly he felt himself beginning to rise again while his stomach seemed to stay behind. He barked for Larry to come and get him out of this place, but all he heard was the whir of machinery and the thump of Larry’s sneakers running downstairs.
As the elevator stopped on the third floor and his stomach caught up, Ribsy heard Larry’s frightened voice coming up the elevator shaft from the first floor. “Dog? What dog?” he was saying. “I don’t have any dog.”
“Don’t you lie to me,” the manager said. “I know there’s a dog in this building.”
“It isn’t my dog,” said Larry.
Upstairs a woman opened the door and pushed back the gate.
“Hello,” said the woman to Ribsy, as if she met dogs in elevators every day. “How did you manage to press the button?”
This time Ribsy was taking no chance of being left in this frightening room that made him lose his stomach. He dashed past the woman and into the third-floor hall, while the door of the elevator closed behind him. Now he did not know what to do. He was in a long hall with a strip of worn carpet down the center and doors on either side. At one side of the hall was a staircase, and at the end of the hall was a window with a fire-escape sign over it. Nothing looked familiar to Ribsy, who had never been in an apartment house before.
Larry’s voice came up the stairwell. “But I don’t have a dog.”
Ribsy did the only thing he could think of. He started down the stairs toward Larry’s voice.
“Young man,” said Mrs. Kreech, “you took a dog into that elevator. You can’t fool me.”
Ribsy hesitated. He did not like this woman’s voice. It reminded him of too many voices that had yelled, “You get off my lawn!” to him. Sometimes voices like this were accompanied by a rock or a clod of dirt.
Ribsy heard the elevator door open down on the first floor and the manager say in quite a different voice, “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Berg. I was looking for a dog in the elevator.”
“There’s no dog in the elevator,” said Mrs. Berg, who was a friend of Larry’s and who understood the situation. “I have come to pay my rent.”
“Certainly,” said the manager. “Just step into my apartment while I write your receipt.”
Ribsy stood listening at the steps, but all he heard was the elevator door close and the machinery whir. As the elevator rose, Ribsy started cautiously down the steps. He did not know what to expect in this strange building where rooms went up in the air. The second floor looked exactly like the third, which Ribsy had just left—the same strip of carpet, the same doors on either side, the same window with a sign over it at the end of the hall.
Ribsy felt confused. He was even more confused when he heard a whispered, “P-s-s-t!” It was Larry, who was supposed to be down below but who was now up above. While Ribsy had walked down to the second floor Larry had ridden up to the third.
“Wuf!” answered Ribsy, who wanted to get out of this place.
“Sh-h-h!” Larry’s worried face appeared in the stairwell above Ribsy. He came tiptoeing down the steps. “I’ve got to get you out of here,” he whispered. “Come on.” He started to lead Ribsy on down the steps, when the door of the manager’s apartment opened on the first floor.
“Thank you, Mrs. Berg,” the manager was saying.
“We can’t go down that way,” whispered Larry. “Come on, this way.”
Ribsy obeyed, because he did not know where to go by himself and because he wanted to stay away from the woman with the angry voice. Larry led him down the hall toward the back stairs, which were near the window with the sign over it. He was about to start down with Ribsy when he heard someone coming up.
“I don’t know who it is, but I’m not taking any chances,” Larry muttered, looking around wildly. He saw the window at the end of the hall and opened it.
Ribsy found himself being picked up, thrust through the window, and dropped onto the fire escape. The window was closed behind him and a curtain pulled. Ribsy’s feet slid through the metal bars of the fire escape and stuck down in empty space. If an elevator was a strange place, a fire escape was much, much worse. Ribsy felt as if he should be falling but, instead, there he hung in midair. Inside he heard the manager’s angry voice, which made him feel as if he had done something he should not, but he could not understand what it was. Silently he struggled to get all four of his feet up onto the metal bars of the fire escape.
Ribsy soon discovered that a fire escape was not only frightening, it was uncomfortable. He had to move his feet carefully on the cold metal or they would slip through. It made him uneasy to see the ground so far below him. There was an opening in the fire escape big enough to jump through, but the ground was too far down.
Since Ribsy could not go down, he did the next best thing. He went up. Because he was an optimistic dog, he hoped things might b
e better up there. He climbed up cautiously, one step on the steep slanting ladder at a time. Unfortunately, when he reached the next level of the fire escape, things were worse. The good solid ground was farther away. Ribsy peered into the window, but the third-floor hall was empty.
With his tail drooping, Ribsy looked around. The view was better, but there was nothing a dog would be glad to see—only some old fenders and wrecked cars behind the body-and-fender shop below. He could look out over the roof of the shop and see the cars and buses on the busy street on the other side of the block. He tried whimpering at the window, but no one came. He gave an experimental bark, but there was so much banging in the body-and-fender shop that no one heard him.
Bewildered and frightened, Ribsy lay down on the fire escape as best he could. The cold metal bars pressed into his body, and the breezes blew under as well as over him. Nothing was comfortable, nothing was familiar. He felt more lost than he had ever felt before. There was nothing to do but lie there on the fire escape, watching the traffic and listening to the banging in the body-and-fender shop, and wait for things to get better.
A half hour went by and then an hour. Larry did not come back, and the building was silent, because the apartments overlooking the body-and-fender shop were rented to people who were out all day and did not have to listen to the noise. Ribsy grew cold and stiff. His body hurt from the iron bars that pressed into him. Things were not getting any better. Ribsy would have to do something.
Ribsy got up and managed to shake himself without having his feet slip through the fire escape. Cautiously he put one forepaw and then the other on the window ledge once more and whimpered at the empty hall. The doors remained closed. No rescuer appeared. Ribsy became impatient. He barked. Still no one came to rescue him. No one cared about the dog on the fire escape. He was forgotten.
Ribsy turned around carefully and barked through the railing toward the traffic on the next street. The only answer he got was the banging in the body-and-fender shop below. Ribsy walked gingerly around the fire escape to make sure he had not missed a way out. There were only the ladderlike steps, and while he had not minded climbing up, they were much too steep to go down.
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