by Enid Blyton
“Will he get better?” asked Lotta anxiously. “He is one of Lal’s best dogs.”
“I don’t think he will get better,” said Mr. Galliano, his gentle hands stroking the ill dog. “All you can do is to keep him warm and give him some medicine I’ll let you have. Go and ask your father to make Punch a little kennel for himself, Jimmy.”
Jimmy sped off. He was sad. He loved all the dogs and he didn’t like to think that Punch was so ill. How could he have got ill? He was cared for so well! He must have met another dog when he was out and taken the illness from him.
“I shall nurse Punch myself,” thought the little boy. “I will make him better! I will!”
Soon Brownie, Jimmy’s father, was making a little kennel for Punch, who was now lying on a rug underneath Jimmy’s caravan, not even the tiniest wag left in his tail.
“I’ll nurse Punch,” said Lotta to Jimmy. “He’s my dog.”
“No,” said Jimmy. “I’m better with animals than you are, Lotta—you’ve often said so. I want to make Punch well again. Please let me.”
“You can’t,” said Lotta. “Galliano says no dog gets better when he goes yellow like that. Look at his tongue, Jimmy—even that’s gone yellow—and his eyes too. Poor Punch—he’s such a darling.”
“Did you get that medicine that Mr. Galliano said he had?” asked Jimmy.
Lotta pointed to a bottle on the grass. “He’s to have it three times a day,” she said.
“I shall feed him well too,” said Jimmy.
“That’s no use,” said Lotta. “He won’t want anything to eat, and if he does eat anything he’ll be sick.”
“Oh, Lotta, be quiet!” said Jimmy fiercely. “That’s not helping me—telling me horrid things like that.”
But Lotta was quite right. Poor Punch would not eat anything, and if Jimmy did manage to get something down his throat, the poor little dog was sick. It was dreadful.
Jimmy thought of nothing but Punch all that day and night and the next day. He could not think of anything to make the dog better. He was so feeble that he could hardly get out of his kennel. Jimmy slept beside him during the night.
Oona the acrobat came to see where Jimmy was on the third day, for the little boy had not gone to him for his daily practice on the tight-rope. When he saw Jimmy holding Punch’s head on his lap, sitting beside his caravan, he understood.
“What’s the matter with the old fellow?” he asked. “Oh, he’s turned yellow, has he—that’s the jaundice. I’ve never heard of but one dog getting better of that.”
“Tell me,” said Jimmy eagerly.
“Well, I once travelled with another circus,” said Oona. “And they had three French poodles—you know, those dogs that have their fur clipped in such a funny way that parts of their body are bare. Well, one of them got yellow like this dog.”
“Yes—go on,” said Jimmy impatiently.
“Well, everyone said the dog would never get better,” said Oona. “But there was an old woman in the circus, mother of one of the clowns there, and she cured him!”
“How?” cried Jimmy. “Tell me how!”
“I don’t really know,” said Oona. “She knew a lot about herbs and roots and plants, and she used to go out early in the morning and pick those she wanted. Then she would boil them and mix them, and make wonderful medicines. It was one of her own medicines she gave the dog.”
“Do you remember what it was made of?” asked Jimmy.
“Of course not,” said Oona. “That was years ago.”
Jimmy almost cried with disappointment. “Oh, if only that old woman was in our circus!” he said.
“I know whose circus she’s with,” said Oona unexpectedly.
“Do you?” cried Jimmy. “Well—write to her then, Oona and ask her what we must give Punch. If we post the letter today, she’ll get it tomorrow and we’ll hear the next day—and that may be in time to save poor Punch.”
“I can’t write to her,” said Oona. “I don’t know how to write. I’ve never learnt.”
“Good gracious!” said Jimmy. “Mother will have to teach you as well as Lotta. Never mind, Oona—tell me what circus the old woman is with, and I’ll write.”
“I don’t know where the circus is,” said Oona. “She’s with Mr. Bang’s circus, that’s all I know.”
Jimmy sighed in despair. He saw Mr. Galliano passing nearby and he got up and ran boldly to him.
“Mr. Galliano, sir,” he said, “please could you tell me something? Do you know where Mr. Bang’s circus is now?”
“Yes, at Blackpool,” said Mr. Galliano, rather astonished. Jimmy shouted for joy and rushed back to Oona. “It’s at Blackpool!” he said. “Now I’ll write straight away. Mother! Mother! Have you got a piece of paper and an envelope?”
It took ages to find paper and envelope, but at last some was found, and Jimmy took a pencil and began to write.
“DEAR MRS. BENNITO [said Oona, and Jimmy wrote that down]. This is Oona the acrobat writing to you. Please send at once to tell us what medicine to give a dog who has gone yellow like that French poodle. Hope you are well.—OONA.”
“I haven’t any money for a stamp,” said Jimmy. Oona gave him sixpence and the little boy ran off to the town to buy the stamp and post the letter. How he hoped it would get to Mrs. Bennito quickly!
Jimmy went back to Punch, who was very weak, for as he wanted nothing to eat, he was going very thin indeed. Lotta was with him, crying. She had brought Punch some of her best chocolates—but of course the dog would not even sniff at them. Jimmy told her about the letter.
“Shall we have an answer today?” said Lotta, who had never had a letter in her life, and had no idea how long it took for letters to go and come.
“No,” said Jimmy. “We can’t have one till the day after next.”
“That will be too late,” said Lotta. “Oh, darling Punch, if only you would eat something!”
Now it so happened that Blackpool was not very far from Bigchester, and Mrs. Bennito got the letter that afternoon. She sent an answer at once—and the postman came with it to Mr. Galliano’s circus the next morning. He gave the letter to Mr. Galliano, who sent it to Oona. It was a surprising thing for anyone in the circus to have a letter, except Mr. Galliano himself.
Oona rushed to Jimmy with the letter. “It’s come—it’s come!” he cried. “Read it, Jimmy. I can’t!”
THE STRANGE MEDICINE
When Jimmy heard that the letter had come a whole day sooner than he expected, he was full of joy. He left Punch, whom he was nursing, and ran to Oona. He took the letter from him. Oona could not read, but Jimmy could.
Jimmy slit open the rather dirty envelope. The writing inside was small and difficult to read.
“‘DEAR OONA’” he read—“‘This is what you must give the dog. Go and get these things—one root of deadly nightshade—one root of—of—of—’ Oh, I don’t know what this is at all,” said Jimmy in dismay. “Oona, the letter is full of the names of queer plants I don’t know. It’s no good!”
The little boy was so disappointed that he burst into tears. He had been up all night with Punch, and was tired out. Oona put his arm across his shoulders and patted him. “Now, now!” he said. “Don’t upset yourself so. Take the letter to Galliano. He may be able to help you. He is a wonderful man.”
Jimmy rubbed his tears away and ran to Mr. Galliano’s caravan. The door was shut. Jimmy rapped on it.
“Who’s there?” yelled Mr. Galliano. “Go away!”
“Oh, please, Mr. Galliano!” shouted Jimmy in despair. “Please, I want your help. It’s for Punch.”
Galliano opened the door. He was in a brilliant red dressing-gown with yellow braid. He looked quite strange without his top-hat. Mrs. Galliano, in an even brighter dressing-gown, was boiling a kettle on her stove.
Jimmy told Mr. Galliano about the letter and showed it to him. Mr. Galliano read it and whistled.
“Whew!” he said. “This needs a bit of understanding. Here, Tes
sa—what do you make of it? You used to be good at this sort of thing—yes?”
Mrs. Galliano took the letter and read it through slowly, saying every word under her breath. Then she turned and looked at Jimmy, her kind eyes shining brightly.
“I know what all these things are,” she said in her soft slow voice. “I knew Mrs. Bennito long ago. She is a marvellous old woman.”
“Mrs. Galliano, how can I get those things, please?” said Jimmy. “Do you think they may cure poor old Punch? He is so thin and ill this morning.”
“I will come with you to the woods and find these things,” said Mrs. Galliano. “My mother was a gypsy and she knew of the magic powers there are in some roots and in many leaves and flowers. Go and tell your mother I will take you myself, and we will be back in three hours.”
Jimmy ran off. His mother gave him a basket and put into it some sandwiches and a piece of chocolate cake, for Jimmy had not had any breakfast. He patted Punch and went to wait for Mrs. Galliano.
Lotta joined him. He told her what had happened. Her eyes opened wide.
“Oooh!” she said. “Fancy Mrs. Galliano going with you herself! She used to be marvellous, my mother said. She used to be the cleverest acrobat in the world, but then she got fat and gave it up. People were a bit afraid of her because her mother was a very clever gypsy, and I’ve heard it said that Mrs. Galliano would have been a witch in the old days.”
Jimmy laughed. “What silly things you believe, Lotta!” he said. “Mrs. Galliano is no witch—I think she’s kind and clever. Here she comes.”
The caravan door opened and down the steps came Mrs. Galliano, dressed in a red skirt, a-black blouse, and a yellow shawl, which was wrapped round her head. The caravan steps creaked, for Mrs. Galliano was indeed very big. She smiled her slow smile at Jimmy.
“Come!” she said. “We must hurry.”
But there wasn’t much hurrying, for Mrs. Galliano did not walk at all fast. She seemed to know the way to the woods without asking. She stopped once by a ditch and picked a plant which smelt horrible to Jimmy. He put it into his basket.
“Flower of woodruff,” she said, “flower of woodruff. That is hard to find, for it is shy and small. Look for honeysuckle too, Jimmy. I need a root of that as well.”
Jimmy hunted for honeysuckle, and Mrs. Galliano poked about looking for many other things. After some while the basket was empty of food and full of roots, leaves, and flowers. Mrs. Galliano read the letter for the last time. “I have everything now,” she said. “There is one thing missing which cannot be found here—but I have found another plant that will do as well. We will go home, Jimmy.”
Jimmy went back to the circus, carrying the basket. Mrs. Galliano took it from him and went up the steps of her caravan. “I know what to do with all these things,” she said. “The medicine will be ready in two hours’ time.”
Jimmy never knew what Mrs. Galliano did with the strange roots and flowers she had gathered. He heard her pounding the roots, and Lotta said that she was boiling some of the plants in a big bowl, for she had seen them. Anyway, in about two hours’ time Mrs. Galliano sent Lotta for Jimmy and gave him a bottle full of warm greeny-brown liquid.
“Give the dog two spoonfuls of this every half-hour,” she said. “You know how to put it in at the side of his mouth, don’t you?”
“Oh yes,” said Jimmy, and he took the bottle eagerly. He went to Punch. Poor Punch—he could not even lift his head now!
Jimmy lifted up the dog’s nose and put back the loose skin at one side of the mouth. There was a gap between the teeth there, and anything could be neatly and quickly poured into the dog’s mouth and so down the throat. Lotta held the bottle ready and Jimmy took the filled spoon from the little girl and tipped it gently into the dog’s mouth, at the side. He held Punch’s head up and the liquid flowed down his throat. Jimmy gave him another spoonful.
“I hope he won’t be sick and waste it all,” said Jimmy. “Good dog, Punch. Good dog.”
The two children watched by the ill dog for half an hour and then gave him two more spoonfuls of the queer mixture. There did not seem to be any change in him.
“Let him be by himself for a while,” said Jimmy’s mother. “You can’t do him any good by being with him just now. Run off and play for a little, or go and practise your riding, Jimmy.”
Jimmy went off obediently, and practised riding with Lotta. He was much better on horseback now and had learnt to grip with his knees, so that he did not slip and slide about. Lotta was quite pleased with him, though she said he would never be a marvel.
They ran back to Punch at the end of the practise—and Jimmy gave a shout of joy.
“Lotta! He’s wagging the end of his tail just a tiny bit! He must feel better! Where’s the medicine?”
They gave the dog two more spoonfuls of it, and he actually lifted his head up himself to take it. He tried to lick Jimmy’s hand but his tongue wouldn’t come out far enough. Poor old Punch—he had indeed been ill!
Bit by bit that day the dog got better. He still would not eat anything, but when Mr. Galliano came over to see him that night, he nodded his head.
“He is better—yes?” he said. “He is the first dog I have known who got over this illness—and it is all because of you Jimmy—yes? Tessa! Tessa! Come here!”
Mrs. Galliano came over to where Punch lay in his new kennel. She stroked him softly.
“It is wonderful medicine,” she said. “Only Mrs. Bennito would know a thing like that. Here is her letter, Jimmy. Keep it safely, for you have there a cure for one of the worst illnesses animals have. He will get better now. I will send you a jar of food for him, and if you feed him with it tonight he will be much better tomorrow.”
Lotta fetched the little jar of food. She read the label on it. “Chicken essence,” she said. “It sounds good, Jimmy! I should think Punch will like this.”
Punch did. He licked the spoonful they gave him, and during that night he ate all that was in the jar. Gradually the yellow colour went from his eyes and tongue and skin, and he wagged his tail arid gave a little yelp.
“He’s better, he’s better!” said Jimmy, beside himself for joy. “Oh, Lotta! I feel so happy!”
Lal and Laddo came to see Punch. Lal had been very unhappy about him, for she had had him since he was a puppy and had trained him herself. She was very clever with animals, but not so good with them as Jimmy when they were ill. She was very grateful to the little boy.
“The next time I hear of a good little pup I will buy him for you,” she said to Jimmy. “It is a shame that a boy like you should have no dog of his own. Thank you, Jimmy, for being so good to Punch. He would have died if it hadn’t been for you.”
By the end of the week Punch was back in the show again, almost as frisky as ever! He simply adored Jimmy, and rolled over on his back in delight whenever the little boy came near. Mr. Galliano was proud of Jimmy too, for he said nobody else would have bothered to take all the trouble that Jimmy had taken to find out the medicine which had cured Punch.
The next exciting thing that happened was the coming of Sammy the chimpanzee. Mr. Galliano had been trying to hear of some other clever animal for his circus, and one day in walked Mr. Wally and his tame chimpanzee!
Jimmy was getting used to the queer folk and ways of the circus, but he was surprised to see the big chimpanzee walking along through the circus field, hand in hand with its master, Mr. Wally!
The chimpanzee was dressed in red trousers, blue coat, and straw hat, and it was smoking a cigarette! Jimmy stared in amazement. This was a wonderful sight.
“Good afternoon to you!” said Mr. Wally, taking off his own straw hat and bowing to the ground. “Have I the honour to be speaking to the great Mr. Galliano himself?”
Jimmy knew this was a joke, so he grinned and said, “No, and you jolly well know it! That’s his caravan over there. I say! What a marvellous chimpanzee!”
“Ah, you don’t know how marvellous he is!” said Mr. Wally,
who was a big man with a remarkably small head. “He can ride a bicycle—he can undress himself and go to bed—he can get up in the morning and dress himself. But he won’t clean his teeth.”
By this time a little crowd had gathered around Mr. Wally and the chimpanzee. Mr. Galliano stuck his head out of his caravan and roared loudly.
“Hie! You want to see me—yes? Then come this way, and tell your chimpanzee to wipe his feet!”
Mr. Wally and the chimpanzee went up the caravan steps. “Oh,” said Jimmy, “I do hope Mr. Galliano takes them for the circus. It would be fun to know a chimpanzee like that!”
“I shan’t know the difference between you and the chimpanzee,” said cheeky little Lotta, grinning at Jimmy. “You’re so alike!” And then she sped away as Jimmy tore after her in a rage.
MR. WALLY’S WONDERFUL CHIMPANZEE
When Mr. Wally came down the steps again he was smiling broadly. Mr. Galliano had said he would take him and his chimpanzee into the circus. He was to go straight to the ring and show Mr. Galliano what he could do.
“Come on, Jimmy,” said Lotta, appearing round a corner of the caravan. “Let’s go and watch.”
All the circus-folk went to the big tent and sat down on benches there to watch Mr. Wally and his chimpanzee. Mr. Wally appeared after a time, wheeling a big hand-barrow on which were a great many things covered up. These belonged to him and his chimpanzee, Sammy.
Sammy grinned at everyone and waved his hand to them. He was a young chimpanzee, high-spirited and happy, and he would do anything in the world for Mr. Wally, who had had him since he was a tiny baby. Sammy had been brought up just like a child. He had had a cot of his own, he had had his own clothes, and he had even been taught to count up to five!
Mr. Wally uncovered the things on his hand-barrow, and Jimmy saw that there was a cot there, taken to pieces, a little chair and folding table, and many other things. Mr. Wally quickly put up the cot, and placed a mattress, pillow, and blankets in it. He set up the table with a little mirror on it, and a brush and comb, a tooth-glass and a toothbrush. He put a bowl of water on it, some soap, and a sponge.