Henry and the Clubhouse (5 page)

He laid them silently on the lawns and tip-toed away so that he would not disturb Ranger. He had cured Ribsy from running off with newspapers by squirting a water pistol at him every time he went near a paper, but Ribsy was a good-natured dog.

Henry did not think he would care to pause long enough to aim at Ranger. He might lose a leg while he aimed. He would like to see Mr. Capper march right up and ring that doorbell. He would have to wear a suit of armor. Or maybe even ride in a tank.

And each time Henry silently laid a paper on a lawn he became a little more angry. He had just as much right around here as that old Ranger. More, because he had lived here longer. And he was a human being, not a dog. By the time Henry had finished delivering the papers in Ranger’s block he was just plain mad. He wasn’t going to be pushed around by any old dog. No, sir! He was going to get that subscription if it was the last thing he did.

And remembering Ranger’s speed and his sharp white teeth, Henry felt that getting that subscription might very well be the last thing he did.

3

Trick or Treat

Henry Huggins was sure that this year he had thought up a better Halloween costume than anyone else in his neighborhood. No tramp or clown suit—not for Henry. He had thought up something different, something that no one else would think of in a million years.

There was just one flaw in Henry’s anticipation of Halloween. He still had not sold the new neighbor a
Journal
subscription and although Mr. Capper had not mentioned the matter, Henry knew the district manager was waiting for him to say something about it. But what could Henry say? Every time he tried to approach the house Ranger chased him away. How the other
Journal
carriers, especially those in the eighth grade and high school, would laugh at that!

Henry was particularly worried because his father knew Mr. Capper, and if the two men happened to run into each other, Mr.Huggins would probably say, “How’s Henry getting along with his route?” and Mr.Capper would answer, “He delivers the papers all right, but he’s a terrible salesman.”

Mr. Capper always said there were three parts to a carrier’s job: delivering, collecting, and selling. Then his father would say, “No more work on the clubhouse.” He might even tell the boys to tear down the frame which they had so carefully built.

After supper on Halloween Henry tried to shove all this to the back of his mind. It was time to get ready to go trick-or-treat-ing, a time for fun, not a time to think about his troubles. Henry went to his room and shut the door. He got out a bottle of ink (washable, it said on the label, and he hoped the label knew what it was talking about) and an old lipstick of his mother’s. He went to work and applied war paint to his face.

When he finished he did not need a Halloween mask from the dime store like the ones the rest of the boys and girls would wear. No one would guess it was Henry Huggins under the lines and circles he had drawn on his face. Then he fastened an old belt around his head and through it stuck a feather from one of his mother’s old hats.

Next he draped an Indian blanket around his shoulders and fastened it with safety pins—lots of them. He needed his hands free to carry the paper bag for all the treats he would collect that evening.

Henry studied himself in the mirror and was pleased with what he saw—a fierce Indian that no one would ever guess was really Henry Huggins. But the best part of his costume was still to come. Henry opened his bedroom door.“Here, Ribsy,” he called. “Come on, boy!”

Obediently Ribsy trotted down the hall and into Henry’s bedroom. Henry opened a bureau drawer and took out a rubber wolf mask which he slipped over Ribsy’s head.

There! His costume was complete. He was now an Indian accompanied by a wolf, a funny-looking black-and-white-and-brown spotted wolf, it was true, but from the neck up Ribsy was a wolfish-looking wolf with long white fangs and a bright red tongue.

It would certainly be lucky for Henry if he and Ribsy happened to meet Ranger.

Boy, old Ranger would take one look at Ribsy-the-wolf and practically turn a backward somersault he would be so surprised and scared. Then he would tuck his tail between his legs and run for home as fast as he could go with Ribsy-the-wolf right after him. By the time Ribsy got through with him, old Ranger would have learned which dog was boss around this neighborhood.

Unfortunately, as was so often the case, this good idea of Henry’s had a flaw.With a rubber mask over his head Ribsy would not have a chance if he got into a dogfight because he would not be able to bite back.With Ranger he probably would not have a chance
without
a mask. It would be wisest for Henry to stay away from the new neighbor’s house that evening. He did not mind. Halloween was no time to sell a newspaper subscription.

Ribsy sat down and scratched.

“Hey, cut that out!” ordered Henry.“You’ll tear the mask.”

Henry went out to show off his costume to his mother and father. Mr. Huggins laughed and Mrs. Huggins pretended to be frightened at seeing an Indian and a wolf in the house. Nosy, the cat, was really frightened. He fluffed up his tail and jumped to the back of the couch, where he arched his back and kept a wary eye on the wolf.

“Do you think Ribsy is going to stand for that mask very long?” asked Mr.Huggins.

“I think so,” said Henry as he opened the front door. “We’ve practiced in my room every day this week. When I finished my route I came home and put the mask on him. He seemed sort of puzzled at first, but he’s used to it now. I held him up so he could see himself in the mirror, and I think he likes it.”

It was a perfect night for Halloween.The stars were bright and a north wind sent leaves skittering along the pavement. Jack-o’-lanterns grinned in front windows. Bands of boys and girls, some of them wearing costumes that glowed in the dark, trooped from door to door. Mothers of small children lurked in the shrubbery, while their little rabbits or ghosts climbed steps and rang doorbells. Henry felt so good he did a war dance in the middle of his front lawn before he started down the street.

Before Henry had had time to ring a doorbell, he met a boy wearing a green cardboard head intended to look like the head of a man from outer space. Suddenly the outer space man’s eyes lit up in a fiendish and scary way that made Henry suspect his friend Murph must be inside. Murph was the only boy in the neighborhood who knew enough about electricity to think up such a costume.

Henry raised his hand in an Indian salute.

“How,” he said, carefully disguising his voice.

Silently the space man held out his hand.

Henry grasped it. “Yipe!” he yelled, in his own voice, because he was grasping a buzzer that Murph held in the palm of his hand.

Murph laughed. “I thought it was you under that war paint.” He leaned over and patted Ribsy. “Hiya, wolf,” he said. “I knew who you were by your spots.”

Together the boys proceeded down Klickitat Street ringing doorbells and shouting, “Trick or treat!” Everyone laughed at Ribsy’s costume and gave Henry an extra treat for his wolf. Gradually their bags grew fat with candy, peanuts, popcorn balls, individual boxes of raisins, apples, and bubble gum. The boys no longer stopped at every house.They compared notes with other trick-or-treaters and soon learned which people gave jelly beans or all-day suckers. These houses they skipped. They did not like jelly beans and Henry felt that a boy who had a paper route was too grown-up to lick a sucker.

At one house which was completely dark, Henry and Murph hesitated. “Should we bother?” asked Henry.“It doesn’t look as if the Morgans are home.”

“We might as well skip it,” said Murph, and just then a car turned into the driveway and drove into the garage. The headlights revealed a garage cluttered with tools and boxes, and decorated with a collection of old license plates. On a shelf at the back a stuffed owl with wings outstretched and claws poised for attack stared glassily into the night.

“Come on,” said Henry, as Mrs. Morgan got out of the car.“She’s got a lot of bags in back. Maybe she just bought something good at the market.”

The two boys and Ribsy walked up the driveway. “Trick or treat!” shouted Henry and Murph. Murph pressed the button that lit up his outer space head.

“Oh, my goodness!” Mrs. Morgan exclaimed, turning around. “An Indian and a man from space. And a wolf! You certainly startled me.” Then she hesitated. “Well . . .I’m afraid you will have to go ahead and play a trick.” She peered into the paper bags in the backseat. “I’ve just come from the market, but all I bought was detergent and coffee and cat food and some things for breakfast. I don’t have a thing to treat you with.”

This was awkward. Henry could not recall a Halloween when he had not been treated by everyone. Why, some of the younger children in the neighborhood did not know that
trick or treat
meant they were supposed to play a trick if they were not given a treat. Neither Henry nor Murph was prepared to play a trick. They had not even brought a piece of soap for soaping windows.

“Aw, that’s all right, Mrs. Morgan,” said Henry.After all, she was a very nice lady, and one of his
Journal
customers.

“Why, it’s Henry Huggins!” exclaimed Mrs. Morgan. “I didn’t recognize you in all that war paint.”

Naturally Henry was pleased that his neighbor had not penetrated his disguise.

“That’s a keen owl you have there,” he remarked.“It’s real fierce-looking, as if it was about to catch an animal or something.”

“It’s a great horned owl,” said Murph, whose head was full of information like this.

“Those license plates go all the way back to 1929.”

“Mr. Morgan always nails the old plates on the wall every time he gets a new one.” Mrs.Morgan followed Henry’s eyes to the owl.

“Henry—since I don’t have a treat for you, how would you like to have the owl?” she asked, as if she had just had an inspiration.

“Gee, Mrs. Morgan . . .” Henry was almost speechless, he was so busy consider-ing the possibilities of a stuffed owl. In his room on his chest of drawers . . . or in the clubhouse. That was it! In the clubhouse. A stuffed owl was exactly what they needed for a finishing touch. “Gee, could I really have it?”

“Certainly,” said Mrs. Morgan. “You boys just climb up on that apple box and lift it down.”

The boys quickly obeyed before Mrs. Morgan could change her mind. Henry could scarcely believe his good fortune.The owl was at least five feet from wing tip to wing tip. Why, this was better than all the peanuts and popcorn balls in the world.

“Thanks, Mrs. Morgan,” said Henry. “Thanks a lot.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” said Mrs. Morgan. “I’ve been looking for a way to get rid of that thing for years. It’s too big to go into the garbage can, and the Goodwill refused to take it.”

“Are you going to put it in the clubhouse?” asked Murph, when the boys had left Mrs. Morgan’s garage.

“Sure,” said Henry.“Then we can call it a hunting lodge.”

“Nobody hunts owls,” Murph pointed out.

Henry could see no reason for continuing the rounds of the neighborhood. Nothing he would get could possibly be as good as a stuffed owl. Besides, carrying his paper bag and lugging his owl, which was an awkward size and shape, did not leave him a free hand for ringing doorbells.

On their way home Henry and Murph met a gypsy and a small red devil who turned out to be Beezus and—appropriately, Henry felt—Ramona. They were carrying a jack-o’-lantern that had been carved too long before Halloween. Now its lips were shriveled and there was a smell of cooking pumpkin in the air.

“A stuffed owl!” exclaimed Beezus.“How spooky! What are you going to do with it?”

“Put it in the clubhouse,” said Henry, “but no girls are allowed.” Henry really would not have minded Beezus’s visiting the clubhouse, but Murph had been firm from the beginning. No girls allowed. And perhaps Murph was right. A boy who was in the business of delivering papers was too old to play with girls.

Before Beezus could answer, Ramona held up her paper bag. “We each got a Nutsie,” she said and began to recite.

“Nutsies give both children and adults quick energy. Avoid that midafternoon slump with a Nutsie, chock-full of protein-rich nuts!”