STEVIE
It’s a good thing I like to ride horses instead of elephants. Imagine what it would be like to muck out an elephant’s stall!
Stevie laughs and holds her nose.
MAX (offscreen)
Stevie, could you come over here?
Stevie suddenly looks nervous and guilty again. She rides back to rejoin the men.
MAX
We’ve had a little talk. We agree with you that this has come about because of your actions, and you know we have talked in the past about the problems with practical jokes.
He pauses to glare at Stevie. However, his glare isn’t totally convincing. One corner of his mouth keeps twitching as if he’s fighting not to smile.
MAX
One thing we know about you, Stevie—aside from your intense dedication to your academic studies, that is—is that if there’s a tricky problem, you’re always more likely than anyone else to come up with a tricky solution. That’s why we’re giving you a shot here. Can you think of a way to salvage this situation? To get the hounds back to Cross County and off the scent of the drag so they can pick up the line of a fox? You have one chance to save yourself, Stevie. This is it.
CLOSE-UP on Stevie. She nods and looks around thoughtfully. The hounds are still barking wildly by the lamppost. Her friends and some of the other riders are watching her curiously. Then Stevie’s gaze shifts back to the circus trucks. The tent poles are all in place now, and the elephant is being led back toward a large pen nearby. Suddenly a “Eureka!” expression crosses Stevie’s face. She has just had a great idea.
STEVIE
(to Chester; still staring at the elephant)
What if we mask the scent of the drag with a stronger, more frightening, and unpleasant smell?
Chester and the other men follow Stevie’s gaze to the elephant.
CHESTER
Ingenious.
MR. BAKER
Ah, yes!
MAX
(to the other men)
Would you excuse us, please? Stevie and I have some fast talking to do.
FADE OUT on Stevie and Max riding eagerly toward the elephant trainer.
And now, Miss Fenton, I think an article from The Cross County Courier can explain what happened next better than I can.
PACHYDERM JOINS PONY CLUB
A local fox hunt seemed to be in big trouble last Saturday—until the circus came to town.
The trouble all began when the hunters, consisting of young Pony Club members from Cross County and Pine Hollow Stables (the latter hailing from nearby Willow Creek) discovered that unknown parties had left a trail of scent that completely distracted the foxhounds and bamboozled the riders.
That was when the Emerson Circus (which will be performing on Fairville Road through the end of next week) came to the rescue, thanks to a brainstorm by one of the young riders, Stephanie “Johnny” Lake of Willow Creek.
Young Johnny quickly realized that the troublesome scent could only be masked by a much stronger scent. Quickly spying—and smelling—an elephant named Jumbo, one of the stars of the Emerson Circus, which was setting up nearby, Johnny realized that her hunt’s salvation was at hand. She convinced Jumbo’s trainer to ride the ponderous pachyderm over the offending area, thus eradicating the aroma that had drawn the dogs, and leaving them free to sniff out the fox they were bred to pursue. Local resident Wilbur Whiteside described the following scene: “There was this dang enormous elephant,” he said. “It trundled on down the road, and a big old bunch of dogs and kids on horses followed right along with it. It was the strangest sight I’ve seen on this Earth these seventy years. Definitely the strangest. “Clearly, this impromptu pachyderm–puppy-and–pony parade will be remembered by onlookers for a long time. Johnny Lake’s ingenious plan to save the hunt will surely be remembered just as long by the grateful members of two Pony Clubs.
Hi, Stevie,
Sorry I missed you today at the stable. But I got your message from Carole, and of course I’d be happy to contribute an essay to your report. I was starting to get jealous because Carole wrote that big essay on leg injuries, and so far I hadn’t gotten to do anything! (Except my “Life” essay, which doesn’t count because I wrote it weeks ago.) Anyway, Carole said you wanted me to comment on the fox hunt and your role in … well, you know.
My mom said we could drop this off at your house on our way to the mall. So here it is. Hope it helps!
Lisa
THE BLAME GAME
An Essay by Lisa Atwood
Blame. It’s a short word with a seemingly simple definition. But once we take a closer look at the whole concept of blame, it becomes much more complicated. It can sometimes be deceptively easy to point fingers of blame about things. But things are rarely that simple.
For example, my Pony Club recently joined another Pony Club for a fox hunt. Many people blamed my friend Stevie Lake for certain unplanned things that happened during that hunt. However, is she really completely to blame? I think not.
First of all, Stevie herself had nothing to do with creating the drag line that distracted the hounds. She never touched the scent that created it. She never told anyone else to create it. All she did was become enmeshed in a feud with certain parties, through little fault of her own, aside from feelings of vengefulness and anger.
And who among us has not been angry? Stevie was only revealing her all-too-human weaknesses when she completely humiliated her three brothers in front of everyone they know. She was merely expressing these same weaknesses when she insulted Veronica diAngelo.
Of course, one might argue that these same brothers and Veronica were only responding out of their own human weaknesses. In which case blame becomes muddy once again. But the worst anyone could say about Stevie then is that she was just one cog in the wheel of blame.
Stevie has suffered this same problem in the past. For instance, when a fully populated anthill turned up in a certain Pine Hollow rider’s cubbyhole, everyone immediately pointed the finger of blame at Stevie, never stopping to think that perhaps she was simply teaching a fellow rider tolerance for all living things, great or small. For even if that wasn’t exactly Stevie’s conscious intent, mightn’t it have been a happy side effect of the incident? And finally, when Stevie stole all the chalk from the classrooms and supply closets of her school and donated it to a local thrift store, most people might have assumed that she did it to play a prank on her teachers or to get out of some work. But why couldn’t it have been that she was truly worried about the plight of the chalkless poor?
Stevie is not perfect. As her friend, I accept that—and love her nonetheless. I know that she sometimes gets too caught up in the moment and loses track of the consequences of her actions. But that isn’t so unusual. And you can’t really blame Stevie for what she is, only for what she does. Admittedly, what she does isn’t always totally blameless. But everyone makes mistakes.
Stevie is a good person. Isn’t that worth something here?
FROM: Steviethegreat
TO: LAtwood
SUBJECT: Gee, thanks
MESSAGE:
Okay, I know you tried. But let’s be honest here. Do you really think this essay is going to help my cause?
Please don’t take this the wrong way. I mean, the essay was really well written, of course, but maybe not exactly what I had in mind.
Still, I really am to BLAME for this one. (Ha ha!) After all, I know you too well. I know you’re too honest to write an essay that isn’t totally truthful. So I hope you’ll appreciate my honesty when I tell you there’s NO WAY I can include your essay in my report, no matter how truthful it is. I mean, honesty is one thing—but I don’t want to get myself expelled! (And by the way, Miss Fenton still doesn’t know who took that chalk.)
But I’ll tell you this—I’ll definitely keep your essay in my scrapbook for future reference. Maybe it will actually keep me from getting myself into this same kind of scrape someday. HA HA! :-)
FROM: LAtwood
TO: Steviethegreat
SUBJECT: Re: Gee, thanks
MESSAGE:
I’m so glad you’re not mad about the stuff I said in my essay. After I finished it, I realized it might not make you sound quite as innocent as I meant it to. But sometimes it’s hard to explain exactly how things happen, you know? I mean, I know you never meant to cause trouble for the hunt (or the ants—though your teachers are another story—ha ha!). But I guess you really had to be there to appreciate that, so maybe there’s no way Miss Fenton could ever really understand that particular part of the story. Although I’m sure you can make her understand if anyone can! (After all, you were persuasive enough to convince that elephant trainer to go along with your wacky plan against his better judgment, right?)
Not to change the subject, but I just saw something I thought you’d be interested to hear. Remember how you were telling Carole and me the other day about how you’d heard Veronica has been goofing off instead of writing her report? Well, guess what—you’re right (at least regarding today).
See, I just got back from a trip to the mall with my mother (ugh—don’t ask!) and I saw Veronica there. I don’t think she saw me—she seemed kind of distracted. Mom had dragged me into Maxwell’s, that snooty boutique where Veronica likes to shop. And when we walked in, there she was at the counter, buying some scarf that looked like it cost about a zillion dollars. It would have matched the outfit she was wearing just fine, too—Veronica was dressed up so much she could have headed over to the White House for dinner with the President and made him feel underdressed! She did look nice, I’ll admit, though it was hardly the outfit I would have chosen for a day at the mall. (Let alone a day in my room or at the library slaving over an incredibly important school report, which was where she should have been.) Anyway, thought you might be interested.…
I’d better sign off now. I don’t want to distract you too much. I know your report is due the day after tomorrow, so you’re probably crazed right about now.
Just one more thing, though. Seeing Veronica today made me think more than ever about how hard you’ve been working on this report. In case I haven’t said it before, I’m really proud of you for all the effort you’re putting into it. You should be proud of yourself, too, no matter what Miss Fenton says—though I’m one hundred percent sure she’ll love it!
Anyway, I was thinking that after it’s finished you’ll really be ready to relax a little. How about we plan a nice, long Saddle Club trail ride for Monday afternoon? And we don’t have to talk about school or reports or anything like that unless you want to. How does that sound? I’m going to e-mail Carole about it right now and make sure she’s free.
So get back to work!
FROM: HorseGal
TO: Steviethegreat
CC: LAtwood
SUBJECT: Trail ride
MESSAGE:
Thanks for your e-mail about the trail ride, Lisa. I think it’s a fantastic idea! For one thing, Stevie, it will remind you exactly what you’ve been working so hard to save. Plus it will be great to spend some quality time together, just the three of us. We’ve missed you, Stevie!
But don’t think about that right now. Just concentrate on your report. Because you’re almost there—and I know it’s going to be the most incredible school assignment Miss Fenton (or anyone else) has ever seen!
Welcome to My Life …
After masking the drag trail (and hauling up Mrs. Baker’s laundry poles), Jumbo returned to the circus, and the rest of us returned to the hunt. Chester led us into a field behind the stable, far enough so the hounds wouldn’t be confused by any of the strange scents floating around there. Then he turned them loose. And the real hunt was on!
This time everything was very different. The hounds circled eagerly and soon picked up the scent they were looking for. They raced across hill and dale at top speed, following the scent of the fox. We followed the hounds, urging our horses to canter and gallop to keep up. It was so much fun! We jumped a whole bunch of fences and gates and even a huge fallen log.
There were a lot of wonderful things about that hunt. One of them was that Lisa discovered what a fantastic jumper Diablo is and totally fell in love with him (and jumping). Carole decided she had to add foxhunter to her list of possible careers (though I’m not sure there’s much money in it). And I started to forgive myself for putting the whole hunt in jeopardy earlier.
After a while, the hounds lost the scent in the middle of a wide, smooth field. While they were sniffing around, trying to pick it up again, I pulled Topside alongside my friends. We chatted for a few minutes about how wonderful it all was. And then, suddenly, I spotted some motion in the grass about a quarter of a mile ahead.
I squinted and shaded my eyes. I couldn’t help wondering if the bright sunshine was playing tricks with my vision.
It wasn’t. The movement came again, and this time I was sure. I caught a glimpse of a long, furry tail.
“It’s a … a … Did you see …,” I sputtered. I was so excited I could barely talk. So I just pointed.
“Strange to see Stevie speechless,” Phil remarked. “Usually we can’t shut her up.”
Carole and Lisa laughed. They didn’t even seem to realize that I was trying to tell them something important.
“Look …” I tried again. “It’s a …” But the words still wouldn’t come.
“There she goes again,” Lisa joked.
Finally Max glanced over at me from where he was riding nearby. I guess he noticed my frantic pointing and figured out what I was trying to tell someone. Because he started waving wildly at Mr. Baker and Chester. “The fox!” he shouted. “Stevie spotted the fox!”
“Master! Huntsman! Whippers-in!” Mr. Baker called. “We have to get the hounds on the line again!”
It took some organizing, but in a very short time the whippers-in and the huntsman managed to head the hounds in the direction I was pointing. As soon as the hounds were turned around, one of them picked up the scent and began giving tongue. The other hounds quickly took the hint, and soon they were all baying at the tops of their lungs. The noise was incredible—and the excitement, among both hound and human members of the hunt, was so strong you could practically smell it.
The hunt had been fun up until that point. But as the hounds dashed across the field in hot pursuit of the fox, it got even better. My heart was pounding with excitement, practically drowning out the pounding of Topside’s hooves as he thundered across the field after the hounds. It was positively thrilling!
The hounds led us across the field, into the woods, and through a glen. We had to leap over fallen trees, dodge around rocks, splash across creeks, and duck under branches. With every step, the hounds howled loudly, each pushing to get to the front of the pack and be the first to catch the wily fox.
And then it stopped as suddenly as it had started. The hounds fell silent. They still sniffed eagerly, but now they were just circling around in this grassy, open area surrounded by thick underbrush.
“He’s gone to ground,” Lisa commented, sounding a little breathless from our wild ride across the countryside.
I nodded. What Lisa meant was that the fox had found a burrow or hole to hide in underground. That meant the fox was probably safe and the hunt was probably over.
“Well wait a little while,” Chester said. “Sometimes foxes make mistakes.”
So we waited. But after twenty minutes, it was clear that the fox had outfoxed us.
“Maybe the fox went back to Cross County for the hunt breakfast,” Lisa suggested. “Certain other foxes have been known to do that.”
Chester looked confused. Everybody else laughed, including me. Then we headed back to the stable for a well-earned meal.
But even though the hunt was over, the memory of it has stayed with me ever since. In fact, I found the whole thing so inspiring that, once again, I am forced to express my feelings in verse.
THE CHARGE OF THE FOX BRIGADE
A poem by S. La
ke
(with appreciation to Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
Half a mile, half a mile,
Half a mile onward,
All in the valley of Cross County
Rode the forty riders.
“Forward after the fox!
Follow that fox!” Max cried.
Into the valley of Cross County
Rode the forty riders.
“Forward, Pony Clubbers!”
Did any among us blubber?
No, for we knew to catch
That fox, we had to burn rubber.
Ours not to stare into space,
Ours not to make a face,
Ours but to ride and chase.
Into the valley of Cross County
Rode the forty riders.
Fences to the right of us,
Fences to the left of us,
Fences in front of us.
Galloping and jumping.
Led all over hill and dell,
Boldly we rode and well,
After the wily fox
None of us even fell!
We forty riders.
When can our glory fade?
O what a wild ride we made!
Well remember it forever.
Honor the ride we made!
Honor the Fox Brigade!
Noble forty riders!
That just about sums up how I felt after the hunt was over. (And how I feel about the wonderful art of poetry, thanks to my many fine English teachers over the years.) Of course, I still had a little business to take care of afterward. Now that the thrilling chase was over, I remembered what my brothers and Veronica had done.
Still, I had learned a little something from this whole experience. I had learned that sometimes silence can be the strongest weapon of all. Phil and I discussed it on our way back to Willow Creek. He was coming to dinner at my house again, and neither of us wanted anything like a repeat of his last dinner there. So by the time we arrived at the table, we had agreed upon a plan.
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