Part III Chapter 4 Doctor Dolittle's Circus by Hugh Lofting
NIGHTSHADE THE VIXEN
Penniless, but happy, the Doctor walked through the seaport town till he reached the market place in the center. At this point three big highways met: one from the North, one from the South and one from the East.
After admiring the Town Hall--it was a very beautiful and ancient building--the Doctor was about to set off along the road to the eastward. But he had not gone more than a pace or two before he paused, thinking. It occurred to him that it would be wiser if he found some other way to return to Ashby than that by which he had come.
He, therefore, changed his direction and swung off along the road to the South, intending to work his way back round to Ashby by some route where he would run no risk of meeting the people who had seen him in the coach or the Shottlake inn.
It was a pleasant morning. The sun was shining, sparrows chirping; and he felt as he strutted down the road with his loaf of bread under his arm that in such weather it was a pleasure to be alive.
Before long he had left the last houses of the town behind and found himself in the open country. About noon he came to a cross-roads where a sign post, pointing down a very pretty little country lane, read, "To Appledyke, ten miles."
"That looks a nice road," said the Doctor to himself. "And it runs in the right direction for me. I like the sound of Appledyke too."
So, although he was not very far yet from the seaport town which he had left, he struck off eastward along the country lane to Appledyke.
Soon he decided it was lunch time and looked about him for a brook where he might get a drink of clean water to wash down his dry-bread meal. Over to his right he saw a place where the land dipped downward into a hollow filled with trees and bushes.
"I'll bet there's a brook down there," the Doctor murmured. "It is certainly most delightful country, this."
Then he climbed over a stile and set off across the meadows which led down into the hollow.
He found his brook all right; and the banks of it, shaded by the trees, formed the most charming picnicking ground any one could wish for. After he had taken a drink the Doctor with a grateful sigh sank down on the grass at the foot of a spreading oak, took out his loaf and began to eat.
Presently he saw a starling hopping around near him, and he threw him some crumbs. While the bird was eating them the Doctor noticed that one of his wings seemed queer, and on examining it he found that the feathers were all stuck together with tar. The tar had hardened and the wing would not spread open the way it should. John Dolittle soon put it right and the bird flew off about his business. After his lunch the Doctor felt that before going on his journey he would like to rest a while in this pleasant spot. So he leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree and soon he fell asleep to the music of the murmuring brook.
When he awoke he found four foxes, a vixen with three cubs, sitting patiently beside him waiting till he should finish his nap.
"Good afternoon," said the vixen. "My name is Nightshade. Of course, I've heard a lot about you. But I had no idea you were in the district. I've often thought of coming all the way to Puddleby to see you. I'm awfully glad I didn't miss you on this visit. A starling told me you were here."
"Well," said the Doctor, sitting up, "I'm glad to see you. What can I do for you?"
"One of these children of mine," the vixen pointed toward her three round little cubs who were gazing at the famous Doctor in great awe, "one of the children has something wrong with his front paws. I wish you would take a look at him."
"Certainly," said the Doctor. "Come here, young fellow."
"He has never been able to run properly," said the mother as John Dolittle took the cub on his lap and examined him. "It has nearly cost us all our lives, his slow pace, when the dogs have been after us. The others can run beautifully. Can you tell me what's the matter with him?"
"Why, of course," said the Doctor, who now had the cub upside down on his knees with its four big paws waving in the air. "It's a case of flat feet. That's all. The muscles of the pads are weak. He can get no grip of the ground without good pad muscles. You'll have to exercise him morning and night. Make him rise on his toes like this: One, two! One, two! One, two!"
And the Doctor stood up and gave a demonstration of the exercise which in a person strengthens the arches of the feet and in a fox develops the muscles of the paw pads.
"If you make him do that twenty or thirty times every morning and every night I think you'll soon find his speed will get better," said the Doctor.
"Thank you very much," said the vixen. "I have the greatest difficulty making my children do anything regularly. Now you hear what the Doctor says, Dandelion: every morning and every night, thirty times, up on your toes as high as you can go. I don't want any flat-footed cubs in my family. We've always been--great heavens! Listen!"
The mother fox had stopped speaking, the beautiful brush of her tail straight and quivering, her nose outstretched, pitiful terror staring from her wide open eyes. And in the little silence that followed, from over the rising ground away off to the north-eastward, came the dread sound that makes every fox's heart stand still.
"The horn!" she whispered through chattering teeth. "They're out! It's th--th--the huntsman's horn!"
As he looked at the trembling creature John Dolittle was reminded of the occasion which had made him an enemy of fox-hunting for life-- when he had met an old fox one evening lying half dead with exhaustion under a tangle of blackberries.
As the horn rang out again the poor vixen began running around her cubs like a crazy thing.
"Oh, what shall I do?" she moaned. "The children! If it wasn't for them I could perhaps give the dogs the slip. Oh, why did I bring them out in daylight to see you? I suppose I was afraid you might be gone if I waited till after dark. Now I've left our scent behind us, all the way from Broad Meadows, as plain as the nose on your face. And I've come right into the wind. What a fool I was! What shall I do? What shall I do?"
As the horn sounded the third time, louder and nearer, joined by the yelping of hounds in full cry, the little cubs scuttled to their mother and cowered under her.
A very firm look came into the Doctor's face.
"What pack is this?" he asked. "Do you know the name of it?"
"It's probably the Ditcham--their kennels are just the other side of Hallam's Acre. It might be the Wiltborough, over from Buckley Downs--they sometimes hunt this way. But most likely it's the Ditcham--the best pack in these parts. They were after me lats week. But my sister crossed my trail just below Fenton Ridge and they went after her--and got her. There's the horn again! Oh, what a fool I was to bring these children out in daylight!"
"Don't worry, Nightshade," said the Doctor. "Even if it's the Ditcham and the Wiltborough together, they're not going to get you to-day --nor your children either. Let the cubs get into my pockets-- come on, hop in, young fellows--so. Now you, Nightshade, come inside the breast of my coat. That's the way--get further around toward the back. And you can stick your feet and your brush into the tail-pocket. And when I've buttoned it up like this--see?-- you will be completely covered. Can you breathe all right back there?"
"Yes, I can breathe," said the vixen. "But it won't do us much good to be out of sight. The hounds can smell us--that's the way they run us down--with their noses."
"Yes, I know," said the Doctor. "But the men can't smell you. I can deal with the dogs all right. But you mustn't be seen by the men. Keep as still as a stone, all four of you--don't move or try to run for it, whatever happens."
And then John Dolittle, with his coat bulging with foxes in all directions, stood in a little clearing in the wooded hollow and awaited the oncoming of the Ditcham Hunt in full cry.
The mingled noises of the dogs, men, horns and horses grew louder. And soon, peeping through the crossing branches of his cover, the Doctor saw the first hounds come in view at the top of the ridge. For a moment the leaders paused and sniffed the wind. Then in a bee-line for the bottom of the hollow they came on down, stretched at full speed. Over the ridge and after them came the rest of the pack; and close behind the dogs rode the men, in red coats on fine, swift horses.
Ahead of most of the huntsmen galloped one man, old, lean and white-haired--Sir William Peabody, the Master of the Foxhounds. Half way down the slope he turned in his saddle and called to a man on a gray mare close behind him.
"Jones, they're making for the spinney. Don't let the leaders break into it before we've got it surrounded. Watch Galloway; he's rods ahead. Mind, he doesn't put the fox out the other side--Watch Galloway!"
Then the man on the gray mare spurted ahead, cracking a long whip and calling "Galloway! Here, Galloway!"
As the Doctor peered through the foliage he saw that the leading hound was now quite close. But, wonderfully trained to the huntsmen's command, Galloway suddenly slackened his pace within a few yards of the trees and remained, yelping and barking, for the others to come up.
Over the ridge more riders came pouring--fat parsons on stocky cobs, country squires on hacks, ladies on elegant, dainty thoroughbreds-- all the gentry of the neighborhood.
"My goodness!" murmured the Doctor. "Was there ever anything so childish? All this fuss for a poor little fox!"
As the hounds, under the guidance of the men with long whips, spread, yelping, around all sides of the spinney, the people called and shouted to one another and the noise was tremendous.
"We'll get him," bellowed a fat farmer on a pony. "Hounds have gone all around now and scent don't go on. It's a killing, sure. Wait till Jones lets 'em into spinney. We'll get him!"
"Oh, no, you won't," the Doctor muttered, the firm look coming back into his face. "Not to-day, my fat friend--not to-day."
The dogs, impatient and eager, sniffed and ran hither and thither, waiting for permission to enter the little patch of woods and finish the hunt.
Suddenly a command was given and instantly they leapt the underbrush from all sides.
John Dolittle was standing in his clearing, with his hands over his pockets, trying to look all ways at once at the moment when the hounds broke in. But he had not known from which direction the vixen had entered and left her scent behind. And suddenly, before he knew it, four heavy dogs had leapt on his back, and he went down on the ground, simply smothered under a tangled pile of yelping, fighting foxhounds.
Kicking and punching in all directions, the Doctor struggled to his feet.
"Get away!" he said in dog language. "Lead the hunt somewhere else. This fox is mine."
The hounds, spoken to in their own tongue, now had no doubt as to who the little man was that they had knocked down.
"I'm awfully sorry, Doctor," said Galloway, a fine, deep-chested dog, with a tan patch over one eye. "We had no idea it was you. We jumped on you from behind, you know. Why didn't you call to us while we were outside?"
"How could I?" said the Doctor irritably, pushing away a dog who was sniffing at his pocket. "How could I--with you duffers making all that din? Look out, here come the huntsmen. Don't let them see you smelling around me. Get the pack out of here, Galloway, quick."
"All right, Doctor. But it smells to me as though you had more than one fox in your pockets," said Galloway.
"I've got a whole family," said the Doctor. "And I mean to keep them, too."
"Can't you let us have even one of them, Doctor?" asked the hound. "They're sneaky little things. They eat rabbits and chickens, you know."
"No," said the Doctor, "I can't. They have to get food for themselves. You have food given you. Go away--and hurry about it."
At that moment Sir William Peabody came up.
"Great heavens! Dolittle!" he exclaimed. "Haven't you left these parts yet? Did you see the fox? Hounds headed right down into this hollow."
"I wouldn't tell you, Will, if I had seen him," said the Doctor. "You know what I think of fox-hunting."
"Funny thing!" muttered Sir William as he watched the dogs lurching about among the brush uncertainly. "They can't have lost the scent, surely. They came down here as firm as you like. Curious!--oh, heavens! I know what it is: they've followed your rotten fish smell--the seal! Good Lord!"
At that moment a cry came from the huntsmen that the hounds had found another scent and were going off to the southward. Sir William, who had dismounted, ran for his horse.
"Hang you, Dolittle!" he shouted. "You've led the hounds astray. I should have kept you in jail."
The few dogs remaining within the spinney were now melting away like shadows. One of the fox cubs stirred in the Doctor's pocket. Sir William had already mounted his horse outside.
"Goodness, I forgot again!" muttered the Doctor. "I must get that guinea.--I say, Will!"
Then John Dolittle, his pockets full of foxes, ran out of the spinney after the Master of the Hunt.
"Listen, Will!" he called. "Would you lend me a guinea? I haven't any money to get to Ashby with."
Sir William turned in his saddle and drew rein.
"I'll lend you five guineas--or ten--John," said the magistrate, "if you'll only get out of this district and stop putting my hounds on false scents. Here you are."
"Thanks, Will," said the Doctor, taking the money and dropping it in his pocket on top of one of the cubs. "I'll send it back to you by mail."
Then he stood there by the edge of the spinney and watched the huntsmen, hallooing and galloping, disappear over the skyline to the southward.
"What a childish sport!" he murmured. "I can't understand what they see in it. Really, I can't. Grown men rushing about the landscape on horseback, catawauling* and blowing tin horns-- all after one poor, little wild animal! Perfectly childish!"