Henry and the Clubhouse (4 page)

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Henry was disgusted with Ramona’s new game. “Why don’t you just say hello to the whole world and be done with it?” He had no time for this sort of thing. He was on his way to sell a
Journal
subscription and get back to the clubhouse. “So long, Beezus,” he said.

“. . . and Bobby Brogden who has a loose tooth . . .” Ramona was saying as Henry went on down the street.

When Henry came to the house that was his destination, he turned to Ribsy and said, “Sit,” not because he expected Ribsy to sit, but because he wanted to put off ringing that doorbell a little longer. He had not decided what to use as a selling point, because he could not even guess what might interest a new neighbor.  Ribsy sat a moment and then got up and sniffed at the shrubbery.

“I said ‘Sit,’” Henry told his dog, deciding that it would be a good idea if Ribsy really did sit. Some people were very particular about dogs running through their flowers and he was anxious to make a good impression.

Like the good dog he was, part of the time, Ribsy sat once more, but he did not stay seated. He stood up and wagged his tail.

“Sit!” ordered Henry sternly, as he started up the steps.

Ribsy appeared to think it over.

“Sit!” Henry raised his voice.

Ribsy waved his tail as if to say, Do I really have to?

A strange dog, a Dalmatian, came trotting around the house and began to investigate Ribsy. The dogs sidled around each other, sniffing. Henry did not pay much attention.  Dogs who were strangers to each other always did this.

Next a woman who was wearing an apron, and had a smudge of dust on her cheek, appeared on the driveway at the side of the house. She was older than Henry’s mother. Probably she was old enough to be a grandmother. Before Henry had a chance to speak, the Dalmatian left Ribsy and frol-icked over to his owner. Ribsy, an agreeable dog who was ready to play, followed.

That was Ribsy’s mistake. Now he was trespassing on the Dalmatian’s territory.The Dalmatian began to growl deep in his throat and to hold his whiplike tail stiff and straight.

Ribsy stopped short. This was his neighborhood. He was here first. It was the Dalmatian who was trespassing. Each dog began to resent the other’s looks, sound, and smell.

“Ribsy!” Henry spoke sharply.

“Ranger!” The woman spoke sharply, too.

The dogs paid no attention to their owners. Each was too intent on letting the other know exactly what he thought of him. The growls grew louder and deeper and they raised their lips and bared their teeth as if they were sneering at each other.

And just who do you think you are? Ribsy’s growl seemed to say.

I have just as much right here as you have, Ranger’s growl answered.

No, you don’t, said Ribsy. I was here first.

I’m bigger, growled Ranger.

You’re a bully, growled Ribsy.

Get off my property, Ranger told Ribsy.

You make me, Ribsy told Ranger.

“Cut it out, both of you,” ordered Henry.

Planning to grab Ribsy’s collar and drag him away, Henry jumped down from the steps to the lawn just as the growls erupted into snarls and the dogs went for each other’s throat.

“Ranger!” shrieked the woman.

“Ribsy!” shouted Henry. The dogs were on each other in a twisting, tumbling tangle that seemed to be made up of feet, fangs, and tails.

Henry ran over to the snarling, yelping pair and just as he was about to grab Ribsy’s collar, he found the other dog’s mouth in front of his hand. Quickly he drew back. He saw that he could not stop the fight and since he could not, he wanted Ribsy to win.  If it had not been so important for him to sell a
Journal
subscription he would have yelled, “Go get ’im, Ribsy.”

“Look out!” shouted the woman. “Don’t let him bite you!”

Neighbors began to gather on the sidewalk to watch the excitement. 

“Dogfight! Dogfight!” a boy yelled.

“The hose!” shouted someone.“Turn the hose on them!”

“I can’t,” cried the new neighbor.“I don’t know where it is!”

“Hey, look at old Ribsy,” said Scooter, who had ridden over on his bicycle to see what all the noise was about. “Go get him, Ribsy!”

“You keep quiet!” ordered Henry, even though he wanted to cheer his own dog on.

“Aw, your old mutt couldn’t lick a Chihuahua,” scoffed Scooter.

“He could, too,” said Henry hotly. He wasn’t at all sure Ribsy could lick a Dalmatian, but he could lick a Chihuahua. Henry was positive of that.

“Who’s winning?” asked Robert, who had just arrived, along with Beezus and her little sister Ramona.

“The new dog,” answered Scooter, and rode on down the street as if the fight was already over.

Half afraid that Scooter might be right, because the new dog was both bigger and younger than Ribsy, Henry tried once more to reach into the snarling, rolling mass of dog to grab Ribsy’s collar. He did not have a chance.

A man grabbed Henry by the arm and pulled him away. 

"Don't you know that's a foolish thing to do?” he demanded. “Those dogs might bite you.”

“Yes, but he’s my dog,” Henry tried to explain. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

The next-door neighbor was screwing the garden hose to the faucet.

He turned on the water and advanced toward the dogs with the gushing nozzle in hand. “Stand back, everybody!” he yelled and turned the full force of the hose on the dogs.  Water sprayed in all directions. Still the dogs snarled and snapped. The man with the hose moved closer, so that the force of the hose was stronger.The stream of water caught Ribsy right in the face and blinded him for the moment. This gave Ranger the advantage. He seized Ribsy by the scruff of the neck, and though Ribsy was a medium-sized dog, Ranger began to shake him. The man turned the hose in Ranger’s face.

Ribsy wrenched free and ran dripping down the street with his tail between his legs, ki-yi-ing all the way. The Dalmatian was after him in a flash of black and white.

Henry did not know what to do—whether to run after Ribsy and try to rescue him, or to stay and tell the woman he was sorry his dog got into a fight with her dog, even though it was her dog that started it all.

He also wondered what Mr. Capper would think of all this.A fine job of marching right up and ringing that doorbell this had turned out to be.

Before Henry had a chance to decide what to do, Ranger came trotting back down the street looking much pleased with himself. In the next block Ribsy could be heard ki-yi-ing toward home.

“Bad dog!” said Ranger’s owner, shaking her finger at her pet.

Ranger shook himself with a great clatter of license tags. He did not look one bit sorry. Instead, he looked disapprovingly at Henry, who felt it was wise to retreat to the sidewalk. Ranger walked to the foot of the steps, flopped down, and looked around as if to say, I am monarch of all I survey.

Henry was still trying to collect his thoughts and say something. How had he planned to begin his sales talk? I am Henry Huggins, your
Journal
carrier, but what came next? Ribsy’s ki-yi-ing in the distance did not help Henry to think.

Before Henry said anything, Ramona passed him and walked right up to Ranger’s owner. “Are you the new lady?” asked Ramona.

“Why yes, I am, dear,” answered the woman, pleased to have a little girl making friends with her so soon after she had moved into a strange neighborhood.

For once Henry was glad to see Ramona.

If she talked to the lady a minute he would have a chance to think of his sales talk once more.

Ramona looked straight at the new neighbor.“Remember,” she said with a ferocious frown as she pointed her finger, “only
you
can prevent forest fires!”

Henry groaned to himself.

The lady looked startled. She had no answer for Ramona.

Beezus ran up to Ramona and grabbed her by the hand.“Don’t pay any attention to her,” she said apologetically.“She says that to everybody because she hears it on TV so much. You know, Smokey Bear comes on and says it between commercials.”

“Oh . . . yes.” The lady did not look as if she understood at all. Perhaps she did not own a television set.

“Come on, Ramona.” Beezus tugged at her sister’s hand.

This was too much. Henry felt the only thing he could do was leave. First his dog got into a fight with the lady’s dog and now the little sister of a friend of his practically accused the woman of going around setting forest fires. This was no time to sell a subscription. “I’m sorry about the fight,” he blurted and left quickly, followed by Beezus, who was pulling Ramona along by her hand.

“Remember—only
you
can prevent forest fires!” Ramona shouted back to the lady.

That Ramona, thought Henry crossly.

She was only five years old but she was the biggest pest in the neighborhood. At the corner Henry paused to glance back. The woman was nowhere in sight but Ranger was sitting on the front porch as if he was standing guard. It seemed to Henry that the dog was challenging him to set foot on his property. Just go ahead and try it, he seemed to say. Go on, I dare you.

To Henry’s surprise Mr. Capper did not ask the next day if Henry had sold a newspaper subscription to the new neighbors, and Henry suspected Mr. Capper wanted him to bring up the matter. He didn’t see how he could come right out and say, “I didn’t get that subscription, because the new neighbor’s dog didn’t like my dog.” Henry made up his mind that since he left Ribsy at home while he delivered papers, he would stop on his route this very afternoon and sell that subscription. By that time Ramona would be home watching television, so she could not spoil his sale a second time.

When all his papers were folded and stuffed into the canvas bag, Henry mounted his bicycle and zigzagged down the street pitching
Journal
s right and left. He was wearing a different T-shirt today and he hoped the new lady might have been so busy watching the dogfight that perhaps she hadn’t noticed what he looked like. “Good afternoon,” he whispered to himself. “I am Henry Huggins, your
Journal
carrier. . . .”

When Henry came to the house he saw Ranger resting on the front porch, his nose on his paws, his eyes watchful.“Hi, Ranger,” said Henry, in his most friendly manner.

Ranger’s answer was to jump to his feet, barking furiously, and leap down the steps after Henry.

There was nothing for Henry to do but pedal down the street as fast as he could go, with the dog snarling and snapping at his right foot every time he pushed down on the pedal. Never had Henry ridden a bicycle so fast. By the time he reached the corner he could no longer breathe in all the air he really needed to keep him going, and each time he bore down on the pedal he expected to lose a piece of his jeans or maybe even a piece of his foot.  By the middle of the next block Ranger suddenly stopped chasing Henry, turned around, and trotted toward home with an air of having done his duty. It seemed to Henry that the dog was not even out of breath.

Henry came to a stop, sat on his bicycle, and panted. Boy! That was close, but the worst of it was that Henry still had to deliver the papers in Ranger’s block. When he had caught his breath he parked his bicycle against a tree and returned on foot very, very quietly, being careful to keep out of Ranger’s sight. He did not throw the papers.