here, Ginger," said Jerry. As though he
could help it, he thought, if the dog he owned happened to be so smart he could trail him all the way to school. You would think the teacher could see that, wouldn't you? he asked himself. "Come here, pup," he urged.
Ginger recognized the pleading note in Jerry's voice and he pattered over to him, for he wanted nothing to do with the tall one and her sticks and shrill voice.
"Lie down, Ginger," said Jerry. "Dead dog," he begged.
Being awfully tired, Ginger was happy to lie down. He licked his nose with loud smacking noises and he washed his torn and bleeding ear, and he washed himself all over. He was right under Jerry's desk and every now and then Jerry gave him a nice pat with his foot.
There was complete silence now except for Ginger's loud paw licking and the occasional loud nose blowing of the tall one. In this quiet Ginger stopped licking himself. With a contented sigh he slipped into a thoughtful doze. He scarcely did more than twitch his ears when, from another room, he heard some more of the droning, as of bees, that he had heard outside. Now he could hear what the droning was saying, though.
R-A-T rat. C-A-T cat. Apparently the boys and girls were being instructed in the best way to manage these creatures. As for Ginger, he was too tired to listen and, besides, he knew the best way to handle them. As though one had to come to a place like this to learn such things.
There was one big boy, and his name was Wally Bullwinkle, and he did not take his eyes off Ginger Pye for one minute. He pretended to be lost in his big geography book, but he had a hand over his face and from between his fingers he was studying Ginger with a sly and furtive mien. Nobody—not Ginger, not Jerry—nobody noticed this.
7. The Disappearance of Ginger Pye on Thanksgiving Day
Ginger was a quite famous dog now, in Cranbury, for his achievement on the school fire escape and for other happy ventures. Almost everyone knew him and liked him. He had a great many friends that he liked to call on. When visiting, he never cut across people's lawns, unless, of course, distracted by a cat. He always walked up the sidewalk or up the driveway, the polite way that people do. He had a comical sidewise gait and it was an amusing sight to see him purposefully walking up the street and turning into somebody's walk and trotting up on the porch and scratching at the door to be let in for a visit and a pat and perhaps a bone.
"Here comes Ginger Pye," people would say, delighted to be honored with a visit from such a famous dog.
It was impossible to think of Ginger having one single enemy in the wide world and the Pyes had
long ago tucked all thought of the unsavory character in the backs of their minds. For there had been no more suspicious happenings since the first few days of Ginger's coming into the family. The Pyes were all proud of their famous dog, though of course they did not boast of him.
Now Ginger was going to be even more famous than ever before though not, this time, in a happy way. For a dreadful thing happened.
Ginger disappeared!
The terrible discovery was made at four o'clock in the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day, right after the Pyes had finished dinner. Mr. Pye had returned the night before from another trip, this time to the Sea Islands, studying more birds. Gramma and Grampa and Uncle Bennie were also here and dinner had lasted a very long time. This was natural since it was Thanksgiving Day and there were three roast chickens and plenty of drumsticks.
Ginger had grown tired of all the talking and the eating and he had scratched at the front door to be let out. "Don't let the puppy out in front," said Mrs. Pye. "Mrs. Carruthers and Mrs. Gaines are sick and tired of all the barking at and chasing of their cats. Let us have some peace and quiet on Thanksgiving Day."
So Jerry let Ginger out the back door into their own enclosed backyard. They heard Ginger crying piteously for a time, because
could help it, he thought, if the dog he owned happened to be so smart he could trail him all the way to school. You would think the teacher could see that, wouldn't you? he asked himself. "Come here, pup," he urged.
Ginger recognized the pleading note in Jerry's voice and he pattered over to him, for he wanted nothing to do with the tall one and her sticks and shrill voice.
"Lie down, Ginger," said Jerry. "Dead dog," he begged.
Being awfully tired, Ginger was happy to lie down. He licked his nose with loud smacking noises and he washed his torn and bleeding ear, and he washed himself all over. He was right under Jerry's desk and every now and then Jerry gave him a nice pat with his foot.
There was complete silence now except for Ginger's loud paw licking and the occasional loud nose blowing of the tall one. In this quiet Ginger stopped licking himself. With a contented sigh he slipped into a thoughtful doze. He scarcely did more than twitch his ears when, from another room, he heard some more of the droning, as of bees, that he had heard outside. Now he could hear what the droning was saying, though.
R-A-T rat. C-A-T cat. Apparently the boys and girls were being instructed in the best way to manage these creatures. As for Ginger, he was too tired to listen and, besides, he knew the best way to handle them. As though one had to come to a place like this to learn such things.
There was one big boy, and his name was Wally Bullwinkle, and he did not take his eyes off Ginger Pye for one minute. He pretended to be lost in his big geography book, but he had a hand over his face and from between his fingers he was studying Ginger with a sly and furtive mien. Nobody—not Ginger, not Jerry—nobody noticed this.
7. The Disappearance of Ginger Pye on Thanksgiving Day
Ginger was a quite famous dog now, in Cranbury, for his achievement on the school fire escape and for other happy ventures. Almost everyone knew him and liked him. He had a great many friends that he liked to call on. When visiting, he never cut across people's lawns, unless, of course, distracted by a cat. He always walked up the sidewalk or up the driveway, the polite way that people do. He had a comical sidewise gait and it was an amusing sight to see him purposefully walking up the street and turning into somebody's walk and trotting up on the porch and scratching at the door to be let in for a visit and a pat and perhaps a bone.
"Here comes Ginger Pye," people would say, delighted to be honored with a visit from such a famous dog.
It was impossible to think of Ginger having one single enemy in the wide world and the Pyes had
long ago tucked all thought of the unsavory character in the backs of their minds. For there had been no more suspicious happenings since the first few days of Ginger's coming into the family. The Pyes were all proud of their famous dog, though of course they did not boast of him.
Now Ginger was going to be even more famous than ever before though not, this time, in a happy way. For a dreadful thing happened.
Ginger disappeared!
The terrible discovery was made at four o'clock in the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day, right after the Pyes had finished dinner. Mr. Pye had returned the night before from another trip, this time to the Sea Islands, studying more birds. Gramma and Grampa and Uncle Bennie were also here and dinner had lasted a very long time. This was natural since it was Thanksgiving Day and there were three roast chickens and plenty of drumsticks.
Ginger had grown tired of all the talking and the eating and he had scratched at the front door to be let out. "Don't let the puppy out in front," said Mrs. Pye. "Mrs. Carruthers and Mrs. Gaines are sick and tired of all the barking at and chasing of their cats. Let us have some peace and quiet on Thanksgiving Day."
So Jerry let Ginger out the back door into their own enclosed backyard. They heard Ginger crying piteously for a time, because
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