DOCTOR DOLITTLE'S POST OFFICE

WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY HUGH LOFTING

PUBLISHED BY R A STOKES CO. AT
442 FOURTH AV.
NEW YORK

Copyright, 1923, by
Frederick A. Stokes Company

All rights reserved, including that of
translation into foreign languages

Printed in the United States of America

"It was mournful scenery"

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

DOCTOR DOLITTLE'S POST OFFICE

[PROLOGUE]

Nearly all of the history of Doctor Dolittle's post office took place when he was returning from a voyage to West Africa. Therefore I will begin (as soon as I have told you a little about how he came to take the journey) from where he turned his ship towards home again and set sail for Puddleby-on-the-Marsh.

Some time before this the pushmi-pullyu, after a long stay in England, had grown a little homesick for Africa. And although he was tremendously fond of the Doctor and never wanted to leave him altogether, he asked him one winter day when the weather was particularly cold and disagreeable if he would mind running down to Africa for a holiday—just for a week or two.

The Doctor readily agreed because he hadn't been on a voyage in a long while and he felt he too needed a change from the chilly December days of England.

So he started off. Besides the pushmi-pullyu he took Dab-Dab the duck, Jip the dog, Gub-Gub the pig, Too-Too the owl, and the white mouse—the same good company he had had with him on his adventurous return from the Land of the Monkeys. For this trip the Doctor bought a little sailing boat—very old and battered and worn, but a good sound craft for bad weather.

They sailed away down to the south coast of the Bight of Benin. There they visited many African kingdoms and strange tribes. And while they were ashore the pushmi-pullyu had a chance to wander freely through his old grazing grounds. And he enjoyed his holiday thoroughly.

One morning the Doctor was delighted to see his old friends the swallows gathering once more about his ship at anchor for their yearly flight to England. They asked him whether he too was returning; because if so, they said, they would accompany him, the same as they had done when he was escaping from the Kingdom of Jolliginki.

As the pushmi-pullyu was now quite ready to leave, the Doctor thanked the swallows and told them he would be delighted to have their company. Then for the remainder of that day all was hustle and hurry and bustle, getting the ship provisioned and making preparations for the long trip back to England.

By the following morning everything was in readiness to put to sea. The anchor was drawn up and with all sail set the Doctor's ship moved northward before a favorable wind. And it is from this point that my story begins.

PART I

[CHAPTER I]
ZUZANA

One morning in the first week of the return voyage when John Dolittle and his animals were all sitting at breakfast round the big table in the cabin, one of the swallows came down and said that he wanted to speak to the Doctor.

John Dolittle at once left the table and went out into the passage where he found the swallow-leader himself, a very neat, trim, little bird with long, long wings and sharp, snappy, black eyes. Speedy-the-Skimmer he was called—a name truly famous throughout the whole of the feathered world. He was the champion flycatcher and aerial acrobat of Europe, Africa, Asia, and America. For years every summer he had won all the flying races, having broken his own record only last year by crossing the Atlantic in eleven and a half hours—at a speed of over two hundred miles an hour.

"Well, Speedy," said John Dolittle. "What is it?"

"Doctor," said the little bird in a mysterious whisper, "we have sighted a canoe about a mile ahead of the ship and a little to the eastward, with only a black woman in it. She is weeping bitterly and isn't paddling the canoe at all. She is several miles from land—ten, at least, I should say—because at the moment we are crossing the Bay of Fantippo and can only just see the shore of Africa. She is really in dangerous straits, with such a little bit of a boat that far out at sea. But she doesn't seem to care. She's just sitting in the bottom of the canoe, crying as if she didn't mind what happens to her. I wish you would come and speak to her, for we fear she is in great trouble."

"All right," said the Doctor. "Fly slowly on to where the canoe is and I will steer the ship to follow you."

So John Dolittle went up on deck and by steering the boat after the guiding swallows he presently saw a small, dark canoe rising and falling on the waves. It looked so tiny on the wide face of the waters that it could be taken for a log or a stick—or, indeed, missed altogether, unless you were close enough to see it. In the canoe sat a woman with her head bowed down upon her knees.

"What's the matter?" shouted the Doctor, as soon as he was near enough to make the woman hear. "Why have you come so far from the land? Don't you know that you are in great danger if a storm should come up?"

Slowly the woman raised her head.

"Go away," said she, "and leave me to my sorrow. Haven't you white men done me enough harm?"

John Dolittle steered the boat up closer still and continued to talk to the woman in a kindly way. But she seemed for a long time to mistrust him because he was a white man. Little by little, however, the Doctor won her confidence and at last, still weeping bitterly, she told him her story.

"John Dolittle talked to the woman"

These were the days, you must understand, when slavery was being done away with. To capture, to buy or to sell slaves had, in fact, been strictly forbidden by most governments. But certain bad men still came down to the west coast of Africa and captured or bought slaves secretly and took them away in ships to other lands to work on cotton and tobacco plantations. Some African kings sold prisoners they had taken in war to these men and made a great deal of money that way.

Well, this woman in the canoe belonged to a tribe which had been at war with the king of Fantippo—an African kingdom situated on the coast near which the swallows had seen the canoe.

And in this war the King of Fantippo had taken many prisoners, among whom was the woman's husband. Shortly after the war was over some white men in a ship had called at the Kingdom of Fantippo to see if they could buy slaves for tobacco plantations. And when the king heard how much money they were willing to give for black slaves he thought he would sell them the prisoners he had taken in the war.

This woman's name was Zuzana and her husband was a very strong and fine-looking man. The King of Fantippo would have kept Zuzana's husband for this reason, because he liked to have strong men at his court. But the slave traders also wanted strong men, for they could do a lot of work on the plantations. And they offered the King of Fantippo a specially high price for Zuzana's husband. And the king had sold him.

Zuzana described to the Doctor how she had followed the white man's ship a long way out in a canoe, imploring them to give her back her husband. But they had only laughed at her and gone on their way. And their ship had soon passed out of sight.

That was why, she said, she hated all white men and had not wanted to speak to the Doctor when he had hailed her canoe.

The Doctor was dreadfully angry when he had heard the story. And he asked Zuzana how long ago was it that the slaver's ship bearing her husband had left.

She told him it was half an hour ago. Without her husband, she said, life meant nothing to her, and when the ship had passed from view, going northward along the coast, she had burst into tears and just let the canoe drift, not even having the heart to paddle back to land.

The Doctor told the woman that no matter what it cost he was going to help her. And he was all for speeding up his ship and going in chase of the slave boat right away. But Dab-Dab the duck warned him that his boat was very slow and that its sails could be easily seen by the slavers, who would never allow it to come near them.

So the Doctor put down his anchor and, leaving the ship where it was, got into the woman's canoe. Then, calling to the swallows to help him as guides, he set off northward along the coast, looking into all the bays and behind all the islands for the slave ship which had taken Zuzana's husband.

"Looking into all the bays"

But after many hours of fruitless search night began to come on and the swallows who were acting as guides could no longer see big distances, for there was no moon.

Poor Zuzana began weeping some more when the Doctor said he would have to give up for the night.

"By morning," said she, "the ship of the wicked slave dealers will be many miles away and I shall never get my husband back. Alas! Alas!"

The Doctor comforted her as best he could, saying that if he failed he would get her another husband, just as good. But she didn't seem to care for that idea and went on wailing, "Alas! Alas!"

She made such a noise that the Doctor couldn't get to sleep on the bottom of the canoe—which wasn't very comfortable, anyway. So he had to sit up and listen. Some of the swallows were still with him, sitting on the edge of the canoe. And the famous Skimmer, the leader, was also there. They and the Doctor were talking over what they could do, when suddenly the Skimmer said, "Sh! Look!" and pointed out to the westward over the dark, heaving sea.

Even Zuzana stopped her wailing and turned to look. And there, away out on the dim, black edge of the ocean, they could see a tiny light.

"A ship!" cried the Doctor.

"Yes," said Speedy, "that's a ship, sure enough. I wonder if it's another slave ship."

"Well, if it's a slave ship, it's not the one we're looking for," said the Doctor, "because it's in the wrong direction. The one we're after went northward."

"Listen, Doctor," said Speedy-the-Skimmer, "suppose I fly over to it and see what kind of a ship it is and come back and tell you. Who knows? It might be able to help us."

"All right, Speedy. Thank you," said the Doctor.

So the Skimmer sped off into the darkness toward the tiny light far out to sea, while the Doctor fell to wondering how his own ship was getting on which he had left at anchor some miles down the coast to the southward.

After twenty minutes had gone by John Dolittle began to get worried, because the Skimmer, with his tremendous speed, should have had time to get there and back long ago.

But soon with a flirt of the wings the famous leader made a neat circle in the darkness overhead and dropped, light as a feather, on to the Doctor's knee.

"Well," said John Dolittle, "what kind of a ship was it?"

"It's a big ship," panted the Skimmer, "with tall, high masts and, I should judge, a fast one. But it is coming this way and it is sailing with great care, afraid, I imagine, of shallows and sandbars. It is a very neat ship, smart and new-looking all over. And there are great big guns—cannons—looking out of little doors in her sides. The men on her, too, are all well dressed in smart blue clothes—not like ordinary seamen at all. And on the ship's hull was painted some lettering—her name, I suppose. Of course, I couldn't read it. But I remember what it looked like. Give me your hand and I'll show you."

Then the Skimmer, with one of his claws, began tracing out some letters on the Doctor's palm. Before he had got very far John Dolittle sprang up, nearly overturning the canoe.

"H. M. S.!" he cried. "That means Her Majesty's Ship. It's a man-o'-war—a navy vessel. The very thing we want to deal with slave traders!"

[CHAPTER II]
THE DOCTOR'S RECEPTION ON THE WARSHIP

Then the Doctor and Zuzana started to paddle their canoe for all they were worth in the direction of the light. The night was calm, but the long swell of the ocean swung the little canoe up and down like a seesaw and it needed all Zuzana's skill to keep it in a straight line.

After about an hour had gone by the Doctor noticed that the ship they were trying to reach was no longer coming toward them, but seemed to have stopped. And when he finally came up beneath its towering shape in the darkness he saw the reason why—the man-o'-war had run into his own ship, which he had left at anchor with no lights. However, the navy vessel had fortunately been going so carefully that no serious damage, it seemed, had been done to either ship.

Finding a rope ladder hanging on the side of the man-o'-war, John Dolittle climbed up it, with Zuzana, and went aboard to see the Captain.

He found the Captain strutting the quarterdeck, mumbling to himself.

"Good evening," said the Doctor politely. "Nice weather we're having."

The Captain came up to him and shook his fist in his face.

"Are you the owner of that Noah's Ark down there?" he stormed, pointing to the other ship alongside.

"Er—yes—temporarily," said the Doctor. "Why?"

"Well, will you be so good," snarled the Captain, his face all out of shape with rage, "as to tell me what in thunder you mean by leaving your old junk at anchor on a dark night without any lights? What kind of a sailor are you? Here I bring Her Majesty's latest cruiser after Jimmie Bones, the slave trader—been hunting him for weeks, I have—and, as though the beastly coast wasn't difficult enough as it is, I bump into a craft riding at anchor with no lights. Luckily, I was going slow, taking soundings, or we might have gone down with all hands. I hallooed to your ship and got no answer. So I go aboard her, with pistols ready, thinking maybe she's a slaver, trying to play tricks on me. I creep all over the ship, but not a soul do I meet. At last in the cabin I find a pig—asleep in an armchair! Do you usually leave your craft in the charge of a pig, with orders to go to sleep? If you own the ship, why aren't you on her? Where have you been?"

"'Where have you been?'"

"I was out canoeing with a lady," said the Doctor, and he smiled comfortingly at Zuzana, who was beginning to weep again.

"Canoeing with a lady!" spluttered the Captain. "Well, I'll be——"

"Yes," said the Doctor. "Let me introduce you. This is Zuzana, Captain—er——"

But the Captain interrupted him by calling for a sailor, who stood near.

"I'll teach you to leave Noah's arks at anchor on the high seas for the navy to bump into, my fine deep-sea philanderer! Think the shipping laws are made for a joke? Here," he turned to the sailor, who had come in answer to his call, "Master-at-arms, put this man under arrest."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the master-at-arms. And before the Doctor knew it he had handcuffs fastened firmly on his wrists.

"But this lady was in distress," said the Doctor. "I was in such a hurry I forgot all about lighting the ship. In fact, it wasn't dark yet when I left."

"Take him below!" roared the Captain. "Take him below before I kill him."

And the poor Doctor was dragged away by the Master-at-arms toward a stair leading to the lower decks. But at the head of the stairs he caught hold of the handrail and hung on long enough to shout back to the Captain:

"I could tell you where Jimmie Bones is, if I wanted to."

"What's that?" snorted the Captain. "Here, bring him back! What was that you said?"

"I said," murmured the Doctor, getting his handkerchief out and blowing his nose with his handcuffed hands, "that I could tell you where Jimmie Bones is—if I wanted to."

"Jimmie Bones, the slaver?" cried the Captain. "That's the man the government has sent me after. Where is he?"

"My memory doesn't work very well while my hands are tied," said the Doctor quietly, nodding toward the handcuffs. "Possibly if you took these things off I might remember."

"Oh, excuse me," said the Captain, his manner changing at once. "Master-at-arms, release the prisoner."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the sailor, removing the handcuffs from the Doctor's wrists and turning to go.

"Oh, and by the way," the Captain called after him, "bring a chair up on deck. Perhaps our visitor is tired."

Then John Dolittle told the Captain the whole story of Zuzana and her troubles. And all the other officers on the ship gathered around to listen.

"And I have no doubt," the Doctor ended, "that this slaver who took away the woman's husband was no other than Jimmie Bones, the man you are after."

"Quite so," said the Captain. "I know he is somewhere around the coast. But where is he now? He's a difficult fish to catch."

"He has gone northward," said the Doctor. "But your ship is fast and should be able to overtake him. If he hides in some of these bays and creeks I have several birds here with me who can, as soon as it is light, seek him out for us and tell us where he is."

The Captain looked with astonishment into the faces of his listening officers, who all smiled unbelievingly.

"What do you mean—birds?" the Captain asked. "Pigeons—trained canaries, or something?"

"No," said the Doctor, "I mean the swallows who are going back to England for the summer. They very kindly offered to guide my ship home. They're friends of mine, you see."

This time the officers all burst out laughing and tapped their foreheads knowingly, to show they thought the Doctor was crazy. And the Captain, thinking he was being made a fool of, flew into a rage once more and was all for having the Doctor arrested again.

But the officer who was second in command whispered in the Captain's ear:

"Why not take the old fellow along and let him try, Sir? Our course was northward, anyway. I seem to remember hearing something, when I was attached to the Home Fleet, about an old chap in the west counties who had some strange powers with beasts and birds. I have no doubt this is he. Dolittle, he was called. He seems harmless enough. There's just a chance he may be of some assistance to us. The natives evidently trust him or the woman wouldn't have come with him—you know how scared they are of putting to sea with a white man."

After a moment's thought the Captain turned to the Doctor again.

"You sound clean crazy to me, my good man. But if you can put me in the way of capturing Jimmie Bones the slaver I don't care what means you use to do it. As soon as the day breaks we will get under way. But if you are just amusing yourself at the expense of Her Majesty's Navy I warn you it will be the worst day's work for yourself you ever did. Now go and put riding lights on that ark of yours and tell the pig that if he lets them go out he shall be made into rashers of bacon for the officers' mess."

There was much laughter and joking as the Doctor climbed over the side and went back to his own ship to get his lights lit. But the next morning when he came back to the man-o'-war—and about a thousand swallows came with him—the officers of Her Majesty's Navy were not nearly so inclined to make fun of him.

The sun was just rising over the distant coast of Africa and it was as beautiful a morning as you could wish to see.

Speedy-the-Skimmer had arranged plans with the Doctor overnight. And long before the great warship pulled up her anchor and swung around upon her course the famous swallow leader was miles ahead, with a band of picked hunters, exploring up creeks and examining all the hollows of the coast where the slave trader might be hiding.

Speedy had agreed with the Doctor upon a sort of overhead telegraph system to be carried on by the swallows. And as soon as the millions of little birds had spread themselves out in a line along the coast, so that the sky was speckled with them as far as the eye could reach, they began passing messages, by whistling to one another, all the way from the scouts in front back to the Doctor on the warship, to give news of how the hunt was progressing.

"The birds spread themselves out along the coast"

And somewhere about noon word came through that Bones's slave ship had been sighted behind a long, high cape. Great care must be taken, the message said, because the slave ship was in all readiness to sail at a moment's notice. The slavers had only stopped to get water and look-outs were posted to warn them to return at once, if necessary.

When the Doctor told this to the Captain the man-o'-war changed her course still closer inshore, to keep behind the cover of the long cape. All the sailors were warned to keep very quiet, so the navy ship could sneak up on the slaver unawares.

Now, the Captain, expecting the slavers to put up a fight, also gave orders to get the guns ready. And just as they were about to round the long cape one of the silly gunners let a gun off by accident.

"Boom!" ... The shot went rolling and echoing over the silent sea like angry thunder.

Instantly back came word over the swallows' telegraph line that the slavers were warned and were escaping. And, sure enough, when the warship rounded the cape at last, there was the slave ship putting out to sea, with all sail set and a good ten-mile start on the man-o'-war.

[CHAPTER III]
A GREAT GUNNER

And then began a most exciting sea race. It was now two o'clock in the afternoon and there were not many hours of daylight left.

The Captain (after he had done swearing at the stupid gunner who had let off the gun by accident) realized that if he did not catch up to the slaver before dark came on he would probably lose him altogether. For this Jim Bones was a very sly and clever rascal and he knew the West Coast of Africa (it is sometimes called to this day The Slave Coast) very well. After dark by running without lights he would easily find some nook or corner to hide in—or double back on his course and be miles away before morning came.

So the Captain gave orders that all possible speed was to be made. These were the days when steam was first used on ships. But at the beginning it was only used together with the sails, to help the power of the wind. Of this vessel, H. M. S. Violet, the Captain was very proud. And he was most anxious that the Violet should have the honor of catching Bones the slaver, who for so long had been defying the navy by carrying on slave trade after it had been forbidden. So the Violet's steam engines were put to work their hardest. And thick, black smoke rolled out of her funnels and darkened the blue sea and smudged up her lovely white sails humming tight in the breeze.

Then the engine boy, also anxious that his ship should have the honor of capturing Bones, tied down the safety valve on the steam engine, to make her go faster, and then went up on deck to see the show. And soon, of course, one of the Violet's brand new boilers burst with a terrific bang and made an awful mess of the engine room.

But, being a full-rigged man-o'-war, the Violet was still a pretty speedy sailer. And on she went, furiously plowing the waves and slowly gaining on the slave ship.

However, the crafty Bones, with so big a start, was not easy to overtake. And soon the sun began to set and the Captain frowned and stamped his feet. For with darkness he knew his enemy would be safe.

Down below among the crew, the man who had fired the gun by accident was having a terrible time. All his companions were setting on him and mobbing him for being such a duffer as to warn Bones—who would now almost certainly escape. The distance from the slaver was still too great to use the kind of guns they had in those days. But when the Captain saw darkness creeping over the sea and his enemy escaping, he gave orders to man the guns, anyway—although he hadn't the least hope that his shots would hit the slaver at that distance.

Now, Speedy-the-Skimmer, as soon as the race had begun, had come on to the warship to take a rest. And he happened to be talking to the Doctor when the order to man the guns came down from the Captain. So the Doctor and Speedy went below to watch the guns being fired.

They found an air of quiet but great excitement there. Each gunner was leaning on his gun, aiming it, watching the enemy's ship in the distance and waiting for the order to fire. The poor man who had been mobbed by his fellows was still almost in tears at his own stupid mistake.

Suddenly an officer shouted "Fire!" And with a crash that shook the ship from stem to stern eight big cannon balls went whistling out across the water.

But not one hit the slave ship. Splash! Splash! Splash! They fell harmlessly into the water.

"The light's too bad," grumbled the gunners. "Who could hit anything two miles away in this rotten light?"

Then Speedy whispered in the Doctor's ear:

"Ask them to let me fire a gun. My sight is better than theirs for bad light."

But just at that moment the order came from the Captain, "Cease firing!" And the men left their places.

As soon as their backs were turned Speedy jumped on top of one of the guns and, straddling his short, white legs apart, he cast his beady little black eyes along the aiming sights. Then with his wings he signaled to the Doctor behind him to swing the gun this way and that, so as to aim it the way he wanted.

"Fire!" said Speedy. And the Doctor fired.

"'Fire!' said Speedy"

"What in thunder's this?" roared the Captain from the quarterdeck as the shot rang out. "Didn't I give the order to cease firing?"

But the second in command plucked him by the sleeve and pointed across the water. Speedy's cannon ball had cut the slaver's mainmast clean in two and brought the sails down in a heap upon the deck!

"Holy smoke!" cried the Captain. "We've hit him! Look, Bones is flying the signal of surrender!"

Then the Captain, who a moment before was all for punishing the man who had fired without orders, wanted to know who it was that aimed that marvelous shot which brought the slaver to a standstill. And the Doctor was going to tell him it was Speedy. But the Skimmer whispered in his ear:

"Don't bother, Doctor. He would never believe you, anyway. It was the gun of the man that made the mistake before that we used. Let him take the credit. They'll likely give him a medal, and then he'll feel better."

And now all was excitement aboard the Violet as they approached the slave boat lying crippled in the sea. Bones, the captain, with his crew of eleven other ruffians, was taken prisoner and put down in the cells of the warship. Then the Doctor, with Zuzana, some sailors and an officer, went on to the slave ship. Entering the hold, they found the place packed with slaves with chains on them. And Zuzana immediately recognized her husband and wept all over him with joy.

The black men were at once freed from their chains and brought on to the man-o'-war. Then the slave ship was taken in tow by the Violet. And that was the end of Mr. Bones's slave trading.

Then there was much rejoicing and hand-shaking and congratulation on board the warship. And a grand dinner was prepared for the slaves on the main deck. But John Dolittle, Zuzana and her husband were invited to the officers' mess, where their health was drunk in port wine and speeches were made by the Captain and the Doctor.

The next day, as soon as it was light, the warship went cruising down the coast again, putting the black people ashore in their own particular countries.

This took considerable time, because Bones, it seemed, had collected slaves from a great many different tribes. And it was after noon before the Doctor, with Zuzana and her husband, were returned to John Dolittle's ship, who still had her lights faithfully burning in the middle of the day.

Then the Captain shook hands with the Doctor and thanked him for the great assistance he had given Her Majesty's Navy. And he asked him for his address in England, because he said he was going to tell the government about him and the Queen would most likely want to make him a knight or give him a medal or something. But the Doctor said he would rather have a pound of tea instead. He hadn't tasted tea in several months and the kind they had in the officers' mess was very good.

So the Captain gave him five pounds of the best China tea and thanked him again in the name of the Queen and the government.

Then the Violet swung her great bow around to the north once more and sailed away for England, while the bluejackets crowded the rail and sent three hearty cheers for the Doctor ringing across the sea.

"The bluejackets crowded to the rail"

And now Jip, Dab-Dab, Gub-Gub, Too-Too and the rest of them gathered around John Dolittle and wanted to hear all about his adventures. And it was tea time before he had done telling them. So the Doctor asked Zuzana and her husband to take tea with him before they went ashore.

This they were glad to do. And the Doctor made the tea himself and it was very excellent. Over the tea Zuzana and her husband (whose name was Begwe) were conversing about the Kingdom of Fantippo.

"I don't think we ought to go back there," said Begwe. "I don't mind being a soldier in the Fantippo army, but suppose some other slaver comes along. Maybe the king would sell me again. Did you send that letter to our cousin?"

"Yes," said Zuzana. "But I don't think he ever got it. Because no answer came."

The Doctor asked Zuzana how she had sent the letter. And then she explained to him that when Bones had offered a big price for Begwe and the king had been tempted to sell him she had told the king she would get twelve oxen and thirty goats from a rich cousin in their own country if he would only wait till she had written to him. Now, the King of Fantippo was very fond of oxen and goats—cattle being considered as good as money in his land. And he promised Zuzana that if she got the twelve oxen and thirty goats in two days' time her husband should be a free man, instead of being sold to the slavers.

So Zuzana had hurried to a professional letter writer (the common people of those tribes couldn't write for themselves, you see) and had a letter written, begging their cousin to send the goats and oxen to the king without delay. Then she had taken the letter to the Fantippo post office and sent it off.

But the two days went by and no answer came—and no cattle. Then poor Begwe had been sold to Bones's men.

[CHAPTER IV]
THE ROYAL MAILS OF FANTIPPO

Now, this Fantippo post office of which Zuzana had spoken to the Doctor was rather peculiar. For one thing, it was, of course, quite unusual to find a post office or regular mails of any kind in a savage African kingdom. And the way such a thing had come about was this:

A few years before this voyage of the Doctor's there had been a great deal of talk in most civilized parts of the world about mails and how much it should cost for a letter to go from one country to another. And in England a man called Rowland Hill had started what was called "The Penny Postage," and it had been agreed that a penny a letter should be the regular rate charge for mails from one part of the British Isles to another. Of course, for specially heavy letters you had to pay more. Then stamps were made, penny stamps, twopenny stamps, twopence-halfpenny stamps, sixpenny stamps and shilling stamps. And each was a different color and they were beautifully engraved and most of them had a picture of the Queen on them—some with her crown on her head and some without.

And France and the United States and all the other countries started doing the same thing—only their stamps were counted in their own money, of course, and had different kings or queens or presidents on them.

Very well, then. Now, it happened one day that a ship called at the coast of West Africa, and delivered a letter for Koko, the King of Fantippo. King Koko had never seen a stamp before and, sending for a white merchant who lived in his town, he asked him what queen's face was this on the stamp which the letter bore.

Then the white merchant explained to him the whole idea of penny postage and government mails. And he told him that in England all you had to do when you wanted to send a letter to any part of the world was to put a stamp on the envelope with the queen's head on it and place it in a letter-box on the street corner, and it would be carried to the place to which you addressed it.

"Ah, hah!" said the King. "A new kind of magic. I understand. Very good. The High Kingdom of Fantippo shall have a post office of its own. And my serene and beautiful face shall be on all the stamps and my letters shall travel by faster magic than any of them."

"A rare Fantippo stamp"

Then King Koko of Fantippo, being a very vain man, had a fine lot of stamps made with his pictures on them, some with his crown on and some without; some smiling, some frowning; some with himself on horseback, some with himself on a bicycle. But the stamp which he was most proud of was the tenpenny stamp which bore a picture of himself playing golf—a game which he had just recently learned from some Scotchmen who were mining for gold in his kingdom.

And he had letter-boxes made, just the way the white trader had told him they had in England, and he set them up at the corners of the streets and told his people that all they had to do was to put one of his stamps on their letters, poke them into these boxes and they would travel to any corner of the earth they wished.

But presently the people began complaining that they had been robbed. They had paid good money for the stamps, they said, trusting in their magic power, and they had put their letters in the boxes at the corners of the streets as they had been told. But one day a cow had rubbed her neck against one of the letter boxes and burst it open, and inside there were all the people's letters, which had not traveled one inch from where they put them!

Then the king was very angry and, calling for the white trader, he said:

"You have been fooling My Majesty. These stamps you speak of have no magic power at all. Explain!"

Then the trader told him that it was not through magic in the stamps or boxes that letters traveled by mail. But proper post offices had mail-men, or postmen, who collected the letters out of these boxes. And he went on to explain to the King all the other duties of a post office and the things that made letters go.

So then the King, who was a persevering man, said that Fantippo should have its post office, anyway. And he sent to England for hundreds of postmen's uniforms and caps. And when these arrived he dressed a lot of black men up in them and set them to work as postmen.

But the black men found the heavy uniforms dreadfully hot for Fantippo weather, where they wear only a string of beads. And they left off the uniforms and wore only the caps. That is how the Fantippo postman's uniform came to be a smart cap, a string of beads and a mail bag.

Then when King Koko had got his mail-men, the Royal Fantippo post office began really working. Letters were collected from the boxes at street corners and sent off when ships called; and incoming mail was delivered at the doors of the houses in Fantippo three times a day. The post office became the busiest place in town.

Now, the peoples of West Africa have curious tastes in dress. They love bright things. And some Fantippo dandy started the idea of using up old stamps off letters by making suits of clothes out of them. They looked very showy and smart and a suit of this kind made of stamps became a valuable possession among the natives.

About this time, too, in the civilized parts of the world one of the things that arose out of all this penny-postage business was the craze or hobby for collecting stamps. In England and America and other countries people began buying stamp albums and pasting stamps in them. A rare stamp became quite valuable.

And it happened that one day two men, whose hobby was collecting stamps, came to Fantippo in a ship. The one stamp they were both most anxious to get for their collections was the "twopenny-halfpenny Fantippo red," a stamp which the King had given up printing—for the reason that the picture of himself on it wasn't handsome enough. And because he had given up printing it, it became very rare.

As soon as these two men stepped ashore at Fantippo a porter came up to them to carry their bags. And right in the middle of the porter's chest the collectors spied the twopenny-halfpenny Fantippo red! Then both of the stamp collectors offered to buy the stamp. And as each was anxious to have it for his collection, before long they were offering high prices for it, bidding against one another.

King Koko got to hear of this and he called up one of these stamp collectors and asked him why men should offer high prices for one old used stamp. And the white man explained to him this new craze for stamp collecting that was sweeping over the civilized world.

So King Koko, although he thought that the civilized world must be crazy, decided it would be a good idea if he sold stamps for collections—much better business than selling them at his post office for letters. And after that whenever a ship came into the harbor of Fantippo he sent his Postmaster-General—a very grand man, who wore two strings of beads, a postman's cap and no mail bag—out to the ship with stamps to sell for collections.

Such a roaring trade was done in this way that the King set the stamp printing presses to work more busily than ever, so that a whole new set of Fantippo stamps should be ready for sale by the time the same ship called again on her way home to England.

But with this new trade in selling stamps for stamp collections, and not for proper mailing purposes, the Fantippo mail service was neglected and became very bad.

Now, Doctor Dolittle, while Zuzana was talking over the tea about her letter which she had sent to her cousin—and to which no answer had ever come—suddenly remembered something. On one of his earlier voyages the passenger ship by which he had been traveling had stopped outside this same harbor of Fantippo, although no passengers had gone ashore. And a postman had come aboard to sell a most elegant lot of new green and violet stamps. The Doctor, being at the time a great stamp collector, had bought three whole sets.

And he realized now, as he listened to Zuzana, what was wrong with the Fantippo post office and why she had never got an answer to the letter which would have saved her husband from slavery.

As Zuzana and Begwe rose to go, for it was beginning to get dark, the Doctor noticed a canoe setting out toward his ship from the shore. And in it, when it got near, he saw King Koko himself, coming to the white man's boat with stamps to sell.

So the Doctor got talking to the King and he told him in plain language that he ought to be ashamed of his post office. Then, giving him a cup of China tea, he explained to him how Zuzana's letter had probably never been delivered to her cousin.

"The Doctor gave the king a cup of China tea"

The King listened attentively and understood how his post office had been at fault. And he invited the Doctor to come ashore with Zuzana and Begwe and arrange the post office for him and put it in order so it would work properly.

[CHAPTER V]
THE VOYAGE DELAYED

After some persuasion the Doctor consented to this proposal feeling that perhaps he could do some good. Little did he realize what great labors and strange adventures he was taking upon himself as he got into the canoe with the King, Begwe and Zuzana to be paddled to the town of Fantippo.

This place he found very different from any of the African villages or settlements he had ever visited. It was quite large, almost a city. It was bright and cheerful to look at and the people, like their King, all seemed very kind and jolly.

The Doctor was introduced to all the chief men of the Fantippo nation and later he was taken to see the post office.

This he found in a terrible state. There were letters everywhere—on the floors, in old drawers, knocking about on desks, even lying on the pavement outside the post office door. The Doctor explained to the King that this would never do, that in properly-run post offices the letters that had stamps on were treated with respect and care. It was no wonder, he said, that Zuzana's letter had never been delivered to her cousin if this was the way they took care of the mails.

Then King Koko again begged him to take charge of the post office and try to get it running in proper order. And the Doctor said he would see what he could do. And, going into the post office, he took off his coat and set to work.

But after many hours of terrific labor, trying to get letters sorted and the place in order, John Dolittle saw that such a tremendous job as setting the Fantippo post office to rights would not be a matter of a day or two. It would take weeks at least. So he told this to the King. Then the Doctor's ship was brought into the harbor and put safely at anchor and the animals were all taken ashore. And a nice, new house on the main street was given over to the Doctor for himself and his pets to live in while the work of straightening out the Fantippo mails was going on.

Well, after ten days John Dolittle got what is called the Domestic Mails in pretty good shape. Domestic mails are those that carry letters from one part of a country to another part of the same country, or from one part of a city to another. The mails that carry letters outside the country to foreign lands are called Foreign Mails. To have a regular and good service of foreign mails in the Fantippo post office the Doctor found a hard problem, because the mail ships which could carry letters abroad did not come very often to this port. Fantippo, although King Koko was most proud of it, was not considered a very important country among the regular civilized nations and two or three ships a year were all that ever called there.

Now, one day, very early in the morning, when the Doctor was lying in bed, wondering what he could do about the Foreign Mail Service, Dab-Dab and Jip brought him in his breakfast on a tray and told him there was a swallow outside who wanted to give him a message from Speedy-the-Skimmer. John Dolittle had the swallow brought in and the little bird sat on the foot of his bed while he ate his breakfast.

"Good morning," said the Doctor, cracking open the top of a hard-boiled egg. "What can I do for you?"

"'Good morning! What can I do for you?'"

"Speedy would like to know," said the swallow, "how long you expect to stay in this country. He doesn't want to complain, you understand—nor do any of us—but this journey of yours is taking longer than we thought it would. You see, there was the delay while we hunted out Bones the slaver, and now it seems likely you will be busy with this post office for some weeks yet. Ordinarily we would have been in England long before this, getting the nests ready for the new season's families. We cannot put off the nesting season, you know. Of course, you understand we are not complaining, don't you? But this delay is making things rather awkward for us."

"Oh, quite, quite. I understand perfectly," said the Doctor, poking salt into his egg with a bone egg-spoon. "I am dreadfully sorry. But why didn't Speedy bring the message himself?"

"I suppose he didn't like to," said the swallow. "Thought you'd be offended, perhaps."

"Oh, not in the least," said the Doctor. "You birds have been most helpful to me. Tell Speedy I'll come to see him as soon as I've got my trousers on and we'll talk it over. Something can be arranged, I have no doubt."

"Very good, Doctor," said the swallow, turning to go. "I'll tell the Skimmer what you say."

"By the way," said John Dolittle, "I've been trying to think where I've seen your face before. Did you ever build your nest in my stable in Puddleby?"

"No," said the bird. "But I am the swallow that brought you the message from the monkeys that time they were sick."

"Oh, to be sure—of course," cried the Doctor. "I knew I had seen you somewhere. I never forget faces. You had a pretty hard time coming to England in the winter, didn't you—snow on the ground and all that sort of thing. Very plucky of you to undertake it."

"Yes, it was a hard trip," said the swallow. "I came near freezing to death more than once. Flying into the teeth of that frosty wind was just awful. But something had to be done. The monkeys would most likely have been wiped right out if we hadn't got you."

"How was it that you were the one chosen to bring the message?" asked the Doctor.

"Well," said the swallow, "Speedy did want to do it himself. He's frightfully brave, you know—and fast as lightning. But the other swallows wouldn't let him. They said he was too valuable as a leader. It was a risky job. And if he had lost his life from the frost we'd never be able to get another leader like him. Because, besides being brave and fast, he's the cleverest leader we ever had. Whenever the swallows are in trouble he always thinks of a way out. He's a born leader. He flies quick and he thinks quick."

"Humph!" murmured the Doctor, as he thoughtfully brushed the toast crumbs off the bed clothes. "But why did they pick you to bring the message?"

"They didn't," said the swallow. "We nearly all of us volunteered for the job, so as not to have Speedy risk his life. But the Skimmer said the only fair way was to draw lots. So we got a number of small leaves and we took the stalks off all of them except one. And we put the leaves in an old cocoanut shell and shook them up. Then, with our eyes shut, we began picking them out. The swallow who picked the leaf with the stalk on it was to carry the message to England—and I picked the leaf with the stalk on. Before I started off on the trip I kissed my wife good-bye, because I really never expected to get back alive. Still, I'm kind of glad the lot fell to me."

"Why?" asked the Doctor, pushing the breakfast tray off his knees and punching the pillows into shape.

"Well, you see," said the swallow, lifting his right leg and showing a tiny red ribbon made of corn silk tied about his ankle, "I got this for it."

"What's that?" asked the Doctor.

"That's to show I've done something brave—and special," said the swallow modestly.

"Oh, I see," said the Doctor. "Like a medal, eh?"

"Yes. My name is Quip. It used to be just plain Quip. Now I'm called Quip the Carrier," said the small bird proudly gazing down at his little, stubby white leg.

"Splendid, Quip," said the Doctor. "I congratulate you. Now I must be getting up. I've a frightful lot of work to do. Don't forget to tell Speedy I'll meet him on the ship at ten. Good-bye! Oh, and would you mind asking Dab-Dab, as you go out, to clear away the breakfast things? I'm glad you came. You've given me an idea. Good-bye!"

"They found the Doctor shaving"

And when Dab-Dab and Jip came to take away the tray they found the Doctor shaving. He was peering into a looking glass, holding the end of his nose and muttering to himself:

"That's the idea for the Fantippo Foreign Mail service—I wonder why I never thought of it before. I'll have the fastest overseas mail the world ever saw. Why, of course! That's the idea—The Swallow Mail!"

[CHAPTER VI]
NO-MAN'S-LAND

As soon as he was dressed and shaved the Doctor went down to his ship and met the Skimmer.

"I am terribly sorry, Speedy," said he, "to hear what a lot of trouble I have been giving you birds by my delay here. But I really feel that the business of the post office ought to be attended to, you know. It's in a shocking state—honestly, it is."

"I know," said Speedy. "And if we could we would have nested right here in this country to oblige you, and not bothered about going to England this year. It wouldn't have mattered terribly much to miss one summer in the North. But, you see, we swallows can't nest very well in trees. We like houses and barns and buildings to nest in."

"Couldn't you use the houses of Fantippo?" asked the Doctor.

"Not very well," said Speedy. "They're so small and noisy—with the native children playing around them all day. The eggs and young ones wouldn't be safe for a minute. And, then, they're not built right for us—mostly made of grass, the roofs sloping wrong, the eaves too near the ground, and all that. What we like are solid English buildings, where the people don't shriek and whoop and play drums all day—quiet buildings, like old barns and stables, where, if people come at all, they come in a proper, dignified manner, arriving and leaving at regular hours. We like people, you understand—in their right place. But nesting mother birds must have quiet."

"Humph! I see," said the Doctor. "Of course, myself, I rather enjoy the jolliness of these Fantippos. But I can quite see your point. By the way, how would my old ship do? This ought to be quiet enough for you here. There's nobody living on it now. And, look, it has heaps of cracks and holes and corners in it where you could build your nests. What do you think?"

"That would be splendid," said Speedy—"if you think you won't be needing the boat for some weeks. Of course, it would never do if, after we had the nests built and the eggs laid, you were to pull up the anchor and sail away—the young ones would get seasick."

"No, of course not," said the Doctor. "But there will be no fear of my leaving for some time yet. You could have the whole ship to yourselves and nobody will disturb you."

"All right," said Speedy. "Then I'll tell the swallows to get on with the nest building right away. But, of course, we'll go on to England with you when you are ready, to show you the way—and also to teach the young birds how to get there, too. You see, each year's new birds make their first trip back from England to Africa with us grown ones. They have to make the first journey under our guidance."

"Very good," said the Doctor. "Then that settles that. Now I must get back to the post office. The ship is yours. But as soon as the nesting is over come and let me know, because I have a very special idea I want to tell you about."

So the Doctor's boat was now turned into a nesting ship for the swallows. Calmly she stood at anchor in the quiet waters of Fantippo harbor, while thousands and thousands of swallows built their nests in her rigging, in her ventilators, in her portholes and in every crack and corner of her.

"Thousands of swallows built their nests in her rigging"

No one went near her and the swallows had her to themselves. And they agreed afterward that they found her the best place for nesting they had ever used.

In a very short time the ship presented a curious and extraordinary sight, with the mud nests stuck all over her and birds flying in thousands round her masts, coming and going, building homes and feeding young ones.

And the farmers in England that year said the coming winter would be a hard one because the swallows had done their nesting abroad before they arrived and only spent a few weeks of the autumn in the North.

And later, after the nesting was all over, there were more than twice as many birds as there were before, of course. And you simply couldn't get on to the ship for the tons and tons of mud on her.

But the parent birds, as soon as the young ones were able to fly, set their children to work clearing up the mess. And all that mud was taken off and dropped into the harbor, piece by piece. And the Doctor's ship was left in a cleaner state than it had ever been before in its whole life.

Now, it happened one day that the Doctor came to the post office, as usual, at nine o'clock in the morning. (He had to get there at that time, because if he didn't the postmen didn't start working.) And outside the post office he found Jip, gnawing a bone on the pavement. Something curious about the bone struck the Doctor, who was, of course, being a naturalist, quite a specialist in bones. He asked Jip to let him look at it.

"Why, this is extraordinary!" said the Doctor, examining the bone with great care. "I did not know that this class of animals were still to be found in Africa. Where did you get this bone, Jip?"

"Over in No-Man's-Land," said Jip. "There are lots of bones there."

"And where might No-Man's-Land be?" said John Dolittle.

"No-Man's-Land is that round island just outside the harbor," said Jip—"you know, the one that looks like a plum pudding."

"Oh, yes," said the Doctor. "I know the island you mean. It's only a short distance from the mainland. But I hadn't heard that that was the name of it. Humph! If you'll lend me this bone a while, Jip, I think I'll go to see the King about it."

So, taking the bone, John Dolittle went off to call on King Koko, and Jip asked if he might come along. They found the King sitting at the palace door, sucking a lollipop—for he, like all the Fantippos, was very fond of sweetmeats.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," said the Doctor. "Do you happen to know what kind of animal this bone belongs to?"

The King examined it, then shook his head. He didn't know much about bones.

"Maybe it's a cow's bone," said he.

"Oh, certainly not," said John Dolittle. "No cow ever had a bone like that. That's a jaw—but not a cow's jaw. Listen, Your Majesty, would you mind lending me a canoe and some paddlers? I want to go over to visit No-Man's-Land."

To the Doctor's astonishment the King choked on his lollipop and nearly fell over his chair backwards. Then he ran inside the palace and shut the door.

"How extraordinary!" said John Dolittle, entirely bewildered. "What ails the man?"

"Oh, it's some humbug or other," growled Jip. "They're a superstitious lot, these natives. Let's go down to the harbor, Doctor, and try to hire a canoe to take us."

So they went down to the water's edge and asked several of the canoesmen to take them over to No-Man's-Land. But every one they asked got dreadfully frightened and refused to talk when the Doctor told them where he wanted to go. They wouldn't even let him borrow their canoes to go there by himself.

At last they found one very old boatman who loved chatting so much that, although he got terribly scared when John Dolittle mentioned No-Man's-Land, he finally told the Doctor the reason for all this extraordinary behavior.

"That island," said he—"we don't even mention its name unless we have to—is the land of Evil Magic. It is called (the old man whispered it so low the Doctor could scarcely hear him) No-Man's-Land, because no man lives there. No man ever even goes there."

"But why?" asked the Doctor.

"Dragons live there!" said the old boatman, his eyes wide and staring.—"Enormous horned dragons, that spit fire and eat men. If you value your life never go near that dreadful island."

"But how do you know all this," asked the Doctor, "if nobody has ever been there to see if it's true or not?"

"A thousand years ago," said the old man, "when King Kakaboochi ruled over this land, he put his mother-in-law upon that island to live, because she talked too much and he couldn't bear her around the palace. It was arranged that food should be taken to her every week. But the first week that the men went there in canoes they could find no trace of her. While they were seeking her about the island a dragon suddenly roared out from the bushes and attacked them. They only just escaped with their lives and got back to Fantippo and told King Kakaboochi. A famous wizard was consulted, and he said it must have been the King's mother-in-law herself who had been changed into a dragon by some magic spell. Since then she has had many children and the island is peopled with dragons—whose food is men! For whenever a canoe approaches, the dragons come down to the shores, breathing flame and destruction. But for many hundreds of years now no man has set foot upon it. That is why it is called—well, you know."

After he had told this story the old man turned away and busied himself with his canoe, as though he were afraid that the Doctor might again ask him to paddle him to the island.

"Look here, Jip," said John Dolittle, "you said you got this bone from No-Man's-Land. Did you see any dragons there?"

"No," said Jip. "I swam out there—just to get cool. It was a hot day yesterday. And then I didn't go far inland on the island. I found many bones on the beach. And as this one smelled good to me, I picked it up and swam back here with it. I was more interested in the bone and the swim than I was in the island, to tell you the truth."

"It's most extraordinary," murmured the Doctor—"this legend about the island. It makes me more anxious than ever to go there. That bone interests me, too, immensely. I've seen only one other like it—and that was in a natural history museum. Do you mind if I keep it, Jip? I'd like to put it in my own museum when I get back to Puddleby."

"Not at all," said Jip. "Look here, Doctor, if we can't raise a canoe, let's you and I swim out to the island. It's not over a mile and a half and we're both good swimmers."

"That's not a bad idea, Jip," said the Doctor. "We'll go down the shore a way till we're opposite the island, then we won't have so far to swim."

So off they went. And when they had come to the best place on the shore the Doctor took off his clothes and, tying them up in a bundle, he fastened them on his head, with the precious high hat on the top of all. Then he waded into the surf and, with Jip beside him, started swimming for the island.

Now this particular stretch of water they were trying to cross happened to be a bad place for swimming. And after about a quarter of an hour Jip and the Doctor felt themselves being carried out to sea in the grip of a powerful current. They tried their hardest to get to the island. But without any success.

"Let yourself drift, Doctor," panted Jip. "Don't waste your strength fighting the current. Let yourself drift. Even if we're carried past the island out to sea we can land on the mainland further down the coast, where the current isn't so strong."

But the Doctor didn't answer. And Jip could see from his face that his strength and breath were nearly gone.

Then Jip barked his loudest, hoping that possibly Dab-Dab might hear him on the mainland and fly out and bring help. But, of course, they were much too far from the town for anyone to hear.

"Turn back, Jip," gasped the Doctor. "Don't bother about me. I'll be all right. Turn back and try and make the shore."

"'Turn back, Jip!' gasped the Doctor"

But Jip had no intention of turning back and leaving the Doctor to drown—though he saw no possible chance of rescue.

Presently John Dolittle's mouth filled with water and he began to splutter and gurgle and Jip was really frightened. But just as the Doctor's eyes were closing and he seemed too weak to swim another stroke a curious thing happened. Jip felt something come up under the water, right beneath his feet, and lift him and the Doctor slowly out of the sea, like the rising deck of a submarine. Up and up they were lifted, now entirely out of the water. And, gasping and sprawling side by side, they gazed at one another in utter astonishment.

"What is it, Doctor?" said Jip, staring down at the strange thing, which had now stopped rising and was carrying them like a ship, right across the strong course of the current, in the direction of the island.

"I haven't the—hah—remotest—hah—idea," panted John Dolittle. "Can it be a whale? No, because the skin isn't a whale's. This is fur," he said, plucking at the stuff he was sitting on.

"Well, it's an animal of some kind, isn't it?" said Jip. "But where's its head?" and he gazed down the long sloping back that stretched in a flat curve in front of them for a good thirty yards.

"Its head is under water," said the Doctor. "But there's its tail, look, behind us."

And turning around Jip saw the longest tail that mortal beast ever had, thrashing the water and driving them toward the island.

"I know!" cried Jip. "It's the dragon! This is King Kakaboochi's mother-in-law we're sitting on!"

"Well anyway thank goodness she rose in time!" said the Doctor, shaking the water out of his ears. "I was never so near drowning in my life. I suppose I'd better make myself a little more presentable before she gets her head out of water."

And, taking down his clothes off his own head, the Doctor smartened up his high hat and dressed himself, while the strange thing that had saved their lives carried them steadily and firmly toward the mysterious island.

[CHAPTER VII]
THE ANIMALS' PARADISE

At length the extraordinary creature that had come to their rescue reached the island; and with Jip and the Doctor still clinging to his wide back, he crawled out of the water on to the beach.

And then John Dolittle, seeing its head for the first time, cried out in great excitement:

"Jip, it's a Quiffenodochus, as sure as I'm alive!"

"A Quiffeno-what-us?" asked Jip.

"A Quiffenodochus," said the Doctor—"a prehistoric beast. Naturalists thought they were extinct—that there weren't any more live ones anywhere in the world. This is a great day, Jip. I'm awfully glad I came here."

The tremendous animal which the Fantippans had called a dragon had now climbed right up the beach and was standing fully revealed in all his strangeness. At first he looked like some curious mixture between a crocodile and a giraffe. He had short, spreading legs, but enormously long tail and neck. On his head were two stubby little horns.

As soon as the Doctor and Jip had climbed down off his back he swung his head around on the end of that enormous neck and said to the Doctor:

"Do you feel all right now?"

"Yes, thanks," said John Dolittle.

"I was afraid," said the creature, "that I wouldn't be in time to save your life. It was my brother who first saw you. We thought it was a native and we were getting ready to give him our usual terrifying reception. But while we watched from behind the trees my brother suddenly cried: 'Great heavens! That's Doctor Dolittle—and he's drowning. See, how he waves his arms! He must be saved at any cost. There isn't one man like that born in a thousand years! Let's go after him, quick!' Then word was passed around the island that John Dolittle, the great doctor, was drowning out in the straits. Of course, we had all heard of you. And, rushing down to a secret cove which we have on the far side of the island, we dashed into the sea and swam out to you under water. I was the best swimmer and got to you first. I'm awfully glad I was in time. You're sure you feel all right?"

"Oh, quite," said the Doctor, "thank you. But why did you swim under water?"

"We didn't want the natives to see us," said the strange beast. "They think we are dragons—and we let them go on thinking it. Because then they don't come near the island and we have our country to ourselves."

The creature stretched his long neck still longer and whispered in the Doctor's ear:

"They think we live on men and breathe fire! But all we ever really eat is bananas. And when anyone tries to come here we go down to a hollow in the middle of the island and suck up the mist, the fog, that always hangs around there. Then we come back to the beach and roar and rampage. And we breathe the fog out through our nostrils and they think it's smoke. That's the way we've kept this island to ourselves for a thousand years. And this is the only part of the world where we are left—where we can live in peace."

"'All we eat is bananas'"

"How very interesting!" said the Doctor. "Naturalists have thought your kind of animals are no longer living, you know. You are Quiffenodochi, are you not?"

"Oh, no," said the beast. "The Quiffenodochus has gone long ago. We are the Piffilosaurus. We have six toes on the back feet, while the Quiffenodochi, our cousins, have only five. They died out about two thousand years ago."

"But where are the rest of your people?" asked the Doctor. "I thought you said that many of you had swum out to rescue us."

"They did," said the Piffilosaurus. "But they kept hidden under the water, lest the natives on the shore should see and get to know that the old story about the dragon's mother-in-law wasn't true. While I was bringing you here they were swimming all around you under the water, ready to help if I needed them. They have gone around to the secret cove so they may come ashore unseen. We had better be going on ourselves now. Whatever happens, we mustn't be seen from the shore and have the natives coming here. It would be the end of us if that should ever happen, because, between ourselves, although they think us so terrible, we are really more harmless than sheep."

"Do any other animals live here?" asked the Doctor.

"Oh, yes, indeed," said the Piffilosaurus. "This island is entirely peopled by harmless, vegetable-feeding creatures. If we had the others, of course, we wouldn't last long. But come, I will show you around the island. Let us go quietly up that valley there, so we shan't be seen till we reach the cover of the woods."

Then John Dolittle and Jip were taken by the Piffilosaurus all over the island of No-Man's-Land.

The Doctor said afterward that he had never had a more enjoyable or more instructive day. The shores of the island all around were high and steep, which gave it the appearance Jim had spoken of—like a plum pudding. But in the centre, on top, there was a deep and pleasant hollow, invisible from the sea and sheltered from the winds. In this great bowl, a good thirty miles across, the piffilosauruses had lived at peace for a thousand years, eating ripe bananas and frolicking in the sun.

Down by the banks of the streams the Doctor was shown great herds of hippopotami, feeding on the luscious reeds that grew at the water's edge. In the wide fields of high grass there were elephants and rhinoceri browsing. On the slopes where the forests were sparse he spied long-necked giraffes, nibbling from the trees. Monkeys and deer of all kinds were plentiful. And birds swarmed everywhere. In fact, every kind of creature that does not eat meat was there, living peaceably and happily with the others in this land where vegetable food abounded and the disturbing tread of Man was never heard.

Standing on the top of the hill with Jip and the piffilosaurus at his side, the Doctor gazed down over the wide bowl full of contented animal life and heaved a sigh.

"This beautiful land could also have been called the 'Animals' Paradise,'" he murmured. "Long may they enjoy it to themselves! May this, indeed, be No-Man's-Land forever!"

"You, Doctor," said the deep voice of the piffilosaurus at his elbow, "are the first human in a thousand years that has set foot here. The last one was King Kakaboochi's mother-in-law."

"By the way, what really became of her?" asked the Doctor. "The natives believe she was turned into a dragon, you know."

"We married her off," said the great creature, nibbling idly at a lily stalk. "We couldn't stand her here, any more than the King could. You never heard anybody talk so in all your life. Yes, we carried her one dark night by sea far down the coast of Africa and left her at the palace door of a deaf king, who ruled over a small country south of the Congo River. He married her. Of course, being deaf, he didn't mind her everlasting chatter in the least."

And now for several days the Doctor forgot all about his post office work and King Koko and his ship at anchor, and everything else. For he was kept busy from morning to night with all the animals who wanted to consult him about different things.

Many of the giraffes were suffering from sore hoofs and he showed them where to find a special root that could be put into a foot bath and would bring immediate relief. The rhinoceroses' horns were growing too long and John Dolittle explained to them how by grinding them against a certain kind of stone and by eating less grass and more berries they could keep the growth down. A special sort of nut tree that the deer were fond of had grown scarce and almost died out from constant nibbling. And the Doctor showed the chief stags how, by taking a few nuts and poking them down into the soft earth with their hoofs before the rainy season set in, they could make new trees grow and so increase the supply.

"He was pulling out a loose tooth"

One day when he was pulling out a loose tooth for a baby hippopotamus with his watch-chain, Speedy-the-Skimmer turned up, looking rather annoyed.

"Well," said the neat little bird, settling down on the ground at his feet, "I've found you at last, Doctor. I've been hunting all over creation for you."

"Oh, hulloa, Speedy," said the Doctor. "Glad to see you. Did you want me for something?"

"Why, of course, I did," said Speedy. "We finished the nesting season two days ago, and you had said you wanted to see me about some special business as soon as it was over. I went to your house, but Dab-Dab had no idea where you could be. Then I hunted all over. At last I heard some gossiping boatmen down at the harbor say that you came to this island five days ago and had never returned. All the Fantippans have given you up for lost. They say you have surely been eaten by the dragons that live here. I got an awful fright—though, of course, I didn't quite believe the dragon story. Still, you had been gone so long I didn't know what to make of it. The post office, as you can imagine, is in a worse mess than ever."

"Humph!" said the Doctor, who had now got the loose tooth out and was showing the baby hippo how to rinse his mouth in the river. "I'm sorry. I suppose I should have sent you a message. But I've been so awfully busy. Let's go up under the shade of those palms and sit down. It was about the post office that I wanted to talk to you."

[CHAPTER VIII]
THE SWIFTEST MAIL IN THE WORLD

So the Doctor and Jip and Speedy-the-Skimmer sat down in the shade of the palm trees and for the first time plans for that great service which was to be known as the Swallow Mail were discussed.

"They sat down in the shade of a palm tree"

"Now, my idea, Speedy, is this," said the Doctor. "Regular foreign mails are difficult for the Fantippo post office because so few boats ever call there to bring or take the mails. Now, how would it be if you swallows did the letter carrying?"

"Well," said Speedy, "that would be possible. But, of course, we could only do it during certain months of the year when we were in Africa. And then we could only take letters to the mild and warm countries. We should get frozen if we had to carry mail where severe winters were going on."

"Oh, of course," said the Doctor. "I wouldn't expect you to do that. But I had thought we might get the other birds to help—cold-climate birds, hot-climate ones and temperate. And if some of the trips were too far or disagreeable for one kind of birds to make, we could deliver the mail in relays. I mean, for instance, a letter going from here to the North Pole could be carried by the swallows as far as the north end of Africa. From there it would be taken by thrushes up to the top of Scotland. There seagulls would take it from the thrushes and carry it as far as Greenland. And from there penguins would take it to the North Pole. What do you think?"

"I think it might be all right," said Speedy, "if we can get the other birds to go in with us on the idea."

"Well, you see," said John Dolittle, "I think we might, because we could use the mail service for the birds themselves, and the animals, too, to send their letters by, as well as the Fantippans."

"But, Doctor, birds and animals don't send letters," said Speedy.

"No," said the Doctor. "But there's no reason why they shouldn't begin. Neither did people write nor send letters once upon a time. But as soon as they began they found it very useful and convenient. So would the birds and animals. We could have the head office here in this beautiful island—in this Animals' Paradise. You see, my idea is, firstly, a post office system for the education and betterment of the Animal Kingdom, and, secondly, a good foreign mail for the Fantippans. Do you think we could ever find some way by which birds could write letters?"

"Oh, yes, I think so," said Speedy. "We swallows, for instance, always leave marks on houses where we have nested which are messages for those who may come after us. Look"—Speedy scratched some crosses and signs in the sand at the Doctor's feet—"that means 'Don't build your nest in this house. They have a cat here!' And this"—the Skimmer made four more signs in the sand—"this means 'Good house. Flies plentiful. Folks quiet. Building mud can be found behind the stable.'"

"Splendid," cried the Doctor. "It's a kind of short-hand. You say a whole sentence in four signs."

"And, then," Speedy went on, "nearly all other kinds of birds have a sign language of their own. For example, the kingfishers have a way of marking the trees along the river to show where good fishing is to be found. And thrushes have signs, too; one I've often seen on stones, which means 'Crack your snail shells here.' That's so the thrushes won't go throwing their snail shells all over the place and scare the live snails into keeping out of sight."

"There you are," said the Doctor. "I always thought you birds had at least the beginnings of a written language—otherwise you couldn't be so clever. Now all we have to do is to build up on these signs a regular and proper system of bird-writing. And I have no doubt whatever that with the animals we can do the same thing. Then we'll get the Swallow Mail going and we'll have animals and birds writing letters to one another all over the world—and to people, too, if they want to."

"I suspect," said Speedy, "that you'll find most of the letters will be written to you, Doctor. I've met birds all over creation who wanted to know what you looked like, what you ate for breakfast and all sorts of silly things about you."

"Well," said the Doctor. "I won't mind that. But my idea is firstly an educational one. With a good post office system of their own, I feel that the condition of the birds and animals will be greatly bettered. Only to-day, for example, some deer on this very island asked me what they should do about their nut trees which were nearly eaten up. I showed them at once how they could plant seeds and grow more trees. Heaven knows how long they had been going on short rations. But if they'd only been able to write to me, I could have told them long ago—by Swallow Mail."

Then the Doctor and Jip went back to Fantippo, carried by the piffilosaurus, who landed them on the shore under cover of night, so no one would see them. And in the morning John Dolittle called upon the King again.

"Your Majesty," said the Doctor, "I have now a plan to provide your country with an excellent service of foreign mails if you will agree to what I suggest."

"Good," said the King. "My Majesty is listening. Proceed. Let me offer you a lollipop."

The Doctor took one—a green one—from the box the King held out to him. King Koko was very proud of the quality of his lollipops—made in the Royal Candy Kitchen. He was never without one himself, and always wore it hung around his neck on a ribbon. And when he wasn't sucking it he used to hold it up to his eye and peer through it at his courtiers. He had seen white men using quizzing glasses, and he had his lollipops made thin and transparent, so he could use them in this elegant manner. But constant lollipops had ruined his figure and made him dreadfully stout. However, as fatness was considered a sign of greatness in Fantippo, he didn't mind that.

"My plan," said the Doctor, "is this: The domestic mails of Fantippo, after I have instructed the postmen a little more, can be carried by your own people. But the handling of foreign mails as well as the domestic ones is too much for them. And, besides, you have so few boats calling at your port. So I propose to build a floating post office for the foreign mails which shall be anchored close to the island called"—(the Doctor only just stopped himself in time from speaking the dreaded name)—"er—er—close to the island I spoke of to you the other day."

"I don't like that," said the King, frowning.

"Your Majesty need have no fear," the Doctor put in hurriedly. "It will never be necessary for any of your people to land upon the island. The Foreign Mail post office will be a houseboat, anchored a little way out from the shore. And I will not need any Fantippan postmen to run it at all. On the contrary, I make it a special condition on your part that—er—the island we are speaking of shall continue to be left undisturbed for all time. I am going to run the Foreign Mails Office in my own way—with special postmen of my own. When the Fantippans wish to send out letters to foreign lands they must come by canoe and bring them to the houseboat post office. But incoming letters addressed to the people in Fantippo shall be delivered at the doors of the houses in the regular way. What do you say to that?"

"I agree," said the King. "But the stamps must all have my beautiful face upon them, and no other."

"Very good," said the Doctor. "That can be arranged. But it must be clearly understood that from now on the foreign mails shall be handled by my own postman—in my way. And after I have got the Domestic post office running properly in Fantippo you must see to it that it continues to work in order. If you will do that in a few weeks' time I think I can promise that your kingdom shall have the finest mail service in the world."

Then the Doctor asked Speedy to send off messages through the birds to every corner of the earth. And to ask all the leaders of seagulls, tomtits, magpies, thrushes, stormy petrels, finches, penguins, vultures, snow buntings, wild geese and the rest to come to No-Man's-Land, because John Dolittle wanted to speak to them.

And in the meantime he went back and continued the work of getting the domestic mail service in good running order at the post office at Fantippo.

So the good Speedy sent off messengers; and all around the world and back again word was passed from bird to bird that John Dolittle, the famous animal doctor, wished to see all the leaders of all kinds of birds, great and small.

And presently in the big hollow in the centre of No-Man's-Land they began to arrive. After three days Speedy came to the Doctor and said:

"All right, Doctor, they are ready for you now."

A good strong canoe had by this time been put at the Doctor's service by the King, who was also having the post office houseboat built at the Doctor's orders.

So John Dolittle got into his canoe and came at length to the same hill where he had before gazed out over the pleasant hollow of the Animals' Paradise. And with the Skimmer on his shoulder he looked down into a great sea of bird faces—leaders all—every kind, from a hummingbird to an albatross. And taking a palm leaf and twisting it into a trumpet, so that he could make himself heard, he began his great inauguration speech to the leaders which was to set working the famous Swallow Mail Service.

"He began his great inauguration speech"

After the Doctor had finished his speech and told the leaders what it was he meant to do, the birds of the world applauded by whistling and screeching and flapping their wings, so that the noise was terrible. And in the streets of Fantippo the natives whispered it about that the dragons were fighting one another in No-Man's-Land.

Then the Doctor passed down among the birds and, taking a notebook, he spoke to each leader in turn, asking him questions about the signs and sign language that his particular kind of bird was in the habit of using. And the Doctor wrote it all down in the notebook and took it home with him and worked over it all night—promising to meet the leaders again the following day.

And on the morrow, crossing once again to the island, he went on with the discussion and planning and arrangement. It was agreed that the Swallow Mail Service should have its head office here in No-Man's-Land. And that there should be branch offices at Cape Horn, Greenland, in Christmas Island, Tahiti, Kashmir, Thibet and Puddleby-on-the-Marsh. Most of the mails were arranged so that those birds who migrated or went to other lands in the winter and back again in summer should carry the letters on their regular yearly journeys. And as there are some kinds of birds crossing from one land to another in almost every week of the year, this took care of much of the mails without difficulty.

Then, of course, there were all those birds who don't leave their home lands in winter, but stay in one country all the time. The leaders of these had come under special guidance of other birds to oblige the Doctor by being present at the great meeting. They promised to have their people all the year round take care of letters that were brought to their particular countries to be delivered. So between one thing and another, much of the planning and arrangement of the service was got through in these first two meetings.

Then the Doctor and the leaders agreed upon a regular kind of simple, easy writing for all birds to use, so that the addresses on the envelopes could be understood and read by the post birds. And at last John Dolittle sent them off home again, to instruct their relatives in this new writing and reading and explain to all the birds of all the world how the post office was going to work and how much good he hoped it would do for the education and betterment of the Animal Kingdom. Then he went home and had a good sleep.

The next morning he found that King Koko had got his post office houseboat ready and finished—and very smart it looked. It was paddled out and anchored close to the shore of the island. Then Dab-Dab, Jip, Too-Too, Gub-Gub, the pushmi-pullyu and the white mouse were brought over, and the Doctor gave up his house on the main street of Fantippo and settled down to live at the Foreign Mails post office for the remainder of his stay.

And now John Dolittle and his animals got tremendously busy arranging the post office, its furniture, the stamp drawers, the postcard drawers, the weighing scales, the sorting bags and all the rest of the paraphernalia. Dab-Dab, of course, was housekeeper, as usual, and she saw to it that the post office was swept properly every morning. Jip was the watchman and had charge of locking up at night and opening in the morning. Too-Too, with his head for mathematics, was given the bookkeeping, and he kept account of how many stamps were sold and how much money was taken in. The Doctor ran the information window and answered the hundred and one questions that people are always asking at post offices. And the good and trusty Speedy was here, there and everywhere.

And this was how the first letter was sent off by the Swallow Mail: King Koko himself came one morning and, putting his large face in at the information window, asked:

"What is the fastest foreign mail delivery ever made by any post office anywhere in the world?"

"He put his large face in at the information window"

"The British post office is now boasting," said the Doctor, "that it can get a letter from London to Canada in fourteen days."

"All right," said the King. "Here's a letter to a friend of mine who runs a shoe-shine parlor in Alabama. Let me see how quickly you can get me an answer to it."

Now, the Doctor really had not got everything ready yet to work the foreign mails properly and he was about to explain to the King. But Speedy hopped up on the desk and whispered:

"Give me that letter, Doctor. We'll show him."

Then going outside, he called for Quip the Carrier.

"Quip," said Speedy, "take this letter to the Azores as fast as you can. There you'll just catch the White Tailed Carolina Warblers about to make their summer crossing to the United States. Give it to them and tell them to get the answer back here, as quick as they know how."

In a flash Quip was gone, seaward.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the King brought that letter to the Doctor. And when His Majesty woke up in the morning and came down to breakfast there was the answer to it lying beside his plate!

PART II

[CHAPTER I]
A MOST UNUSUAL POST OFFICE

Nobody thought, not even John Dolittle himself, when the Swallow Mail was first started, what a tremendous system it would finally grow into and what a lot of happenings and ideas would come about through it.

Of course such an entirely new thing as this required a great deal of learning and working out before it could be made to run smoothly. Something new, some fresh problem, cropped up every day. But although the Doctor, at all times a busy man, was positively worked to death, he found it all so interesting that he didn't mind. But the motherly Dab-Dab was dreadfully worried about him; for indeed at the beginning he seemed never to sleep at all.

Certainly in the whole history of the world there never was another post office like the Doctor's. For one thing, it was a houseboat post office; for another, tea was served to everybody—the clerks and the customers as well—regularly at four o'clock every afternoon, with cucumber sandwiches on Sundays. Paddling over to the Foreign Mails post office for afternoon tea became quite the fashionable thing to do among the more up-to-date Fantippans. A large awning was put over the back entrance, forming a pleasant sort of veranda with a good view of the ocean and the bay. And if you dropped in for a stamp around four o'clock, as likely as not you would meet the King there, and all the other high notables of Fantippo, sipping tea.

"The houseboat post office of No-Man's-Land"

Another thing in which the Doctor's post office was peculiar was its pens. Most post offices, the Doctor had found, always had abominably bad pens that spluttered and scratched and wouldn't write. In fact very many post offices even nowadays seem to pride themselves on their bad pens. But the Doctor saw to it that his pens were of the very best quality. Of course, in those times there were no steel pens. Only quills were used. And John Dolittle got the albatrosses and the seagulls to keep for him their tail feathers which fell out in the moulting season. And of course, with such a lot of quills to choose from, it was easy to have the best pens in the post office.

Still another thing in which the Doctor's post office was different from all others was the gum used on the stamps. The supply of gum which the King had been using for his stamps ran short and the Doctor had to set about discovering and making a new kind. And after a good deal of experiment he invented a gum made of licorice, which dried quickly and worked very well. But, as I have said, the Fantippans were very fond of sweetmeats. And soon after the new gum was put into use the post office was crowded with people buying stamps by the hundred.

At first the Doctor could not understand this sudden new rush of business—which kept Too-Too, the cashier, working overtime every night, adding up the day's takings. The post office safe could hardly hold all the money taken in and the overflow had to be put in a vase on the kitchen mantelpiece.

But presently the Doctor noticed that after they had licked the gum off the stamps, the customers would bring them back and want to exchange them for money again. Now, it is a rule that all post offices have to exchange their own stamps, when asked, for the price paid for them. So long as they are not torn or marked it doesn't matter whether the gum has been licked off or not. So the Doctor saw that he would have to change his kind of gum if he wanted to keep stamps that would stick.

And one day the King's brother came to the post office with a terrible cough and asked him in the same breath (or gasp) to give him five half-penny stamps and a cure for a cough. This gave the Doctor an idea. And the next gum which he invented for his stamps he called whooping-cough gum. He made it out of a special kind of sweet, sticky cough-mixture. He also invented a bronchitis gum, a mumps gum and several others. And whenever there was a catching disease in the town the Doctor would see that the proper kind of gum to cure it was issued on the stamps. It saved him a lot of trouble, because the people were always bothering him to cure colds and sore throats and things. And he was the first Postmaster General to use this way of getting rid of sickness—by serving round pleasant medicine on the backs of stamps. He called it stamping out an epidemic.

One evening at six o'clock Jip shut the doors of the post office as usual, and hung up the sign "Closed" as he always did at that hour. The Doctor heard the bolts being shot and he stopped counting postcards and took out his pipe to have a smoke.

"Jip hung up the sign"

The first hard work of getting the post office in full swing was now over. And that night John Dolittle felt when he heard the doors being shut that at last he could afford to keep more regular hours and not be working all the time. And when Jip came inside the Registered Mail booth he found the Doctor leaning back in a chair with his feet on the desk, gazing around him with great satisfaction.

"Well, Jip," said he with a sigh, "we now have a real working post office."

"Yes," said Jip, putting down his watchman's lantern, "and a mighty good one it is, too. There isn't another like it anywhere."

"You know," said John Dolittle, "although we opened more than a week ago I haven't myself written a single letter yet. Fancy living in a post office for a week and never writing a letter! Look at that drawer there. Ordinarily the sight of so many stamps would make me write dozens of letters. All my life I never had a stamp when I really wanted to write a letter. And—funny thing!—now that I'm living and sleeping in a post office I can't think of a single person to write to."

"It's a shame," said Jip. "And you with such beautiful handwriting too—as well as a drawerful of stamps! Never mind; think of all the animals that are waiting to hear from you."

"Of course, there's Sarah," the Doctor went on puffing at his pipe dreamily. "Poor dear Sarah! I wonder whom she married. But there you are, I haven't her address. So I can't write to Sarah. And I don't suppose any of my old patients would want to hear from me."

"I know!" cried Jip, "write to the Cats'-Meat-Man."

"He can't read," said the Doctor gloomily.

"No, but his wife can," said Jip.

"That's true," murmured the Doctor. "But what shall I write to him about?"

Just at that moment Speedy-the-Skimmer came in and said:

"Doctor, we've got to do something about the city deliveries in Fantippo. My post-birds are not very good at finding the right houses to deliver the letters. You see we swallows, although we nest in houses, are not regular city birds. We pick out lonely houses as a rule—in the country. City streets are a bit difficult for swallows to find their way round in. Some of the post-birds have brought back the letters they took out this morning to deliver, saying they can't find the houses they are addressed to."

"Humph!" said the Doctor. "That's too bad. Let me think a minute. Oh, I know I'll send for Cheapside."

"Who is Cheapside?" asked Speedy.

"Cheapside is a London sparrow," said the Doctor, "who visits me every summer in Puddleby. The rest of the year he lives around St. Paul's Cathedral. He builds his nest in St. Edmund's left ear."

"Where?" cried Jip.

"In the left ear of a statue of St. Edmund on the outside of the chancel—the cathedral, you know," the Doctor explained. "Cheapside's the very fellow we want for city deliveries. There's nothing about houses and towns he doesn't know. I'll send for him right away."

"I'm afraid," said Speedy, "that a post-bird—unless he was a city bird himself—would have a hard job finding a sparrow in London. It's an awful big city, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's so," said John Dolittle.

"Listen, Doctor," said Jip. "You were wondering just now what to write the Cats'-Meat-Man about. Let Speedy write the letter to Cheapside in bird scribble and you inclose it in a letter to the Cats'-Meat-Man. Then when the sparrow comes to Puddleby for his summer visit the Cats'-Meat-Man can give it to him."

"Splendid!" cried the Doctor. And he snatched a piece of paper off the desk and started to write.

"And you might ask him too," put in Dab-Dab who had been listening, "to take a look at the back windows of the house to see that none of them is broken. We don't want the rain coming in on the beds."

"All right," said the Doctor. "I'll mention that."

So the Doctor's letter was written and addressed to Matthew Mugg, Esquire, Cats' Meat Merchant, Puddleby-on-the-Marsh, Slopshire, England. And it was sent off by Quip-the-Carrier.

The Doctor did not expect an answer to it right away because the Cats'-Meat-Man's wife was a very slow reader and a still slower writer. And anyhow, Cheapside could not be expected to visit Puddleby for another week yet. He always stayed in London until after the Easter Bank Holiday. His wife refused to let him leave for the country till the spring family had been taught by their father how to find the houses where people threw out crumbs; how to pick up oats from under the cab horses' nose bags without being stamped on by the horses' hoofs; how to get about in the trafficky streets of London and a whole lot of other things that young city birds have to know.

In the meantime, while Quip was gone, life went forward busily and happily at the Doctor's post office. The animals, Too-Too, Dab-Dab, Gub-Gub, the pushmi-pullyu, the white mouse and Jip all agreed that they found living in a houseboat post office great fun. Whenever they got tired of their floating home they would go off for picnic parties to the Island of No-Man's-Land, which was now more often called by the name John Dolittle had given it, "the Animals' Paradise."

On these trips too, the Doctor sometimes accompanied them. He was glad to, because he so got an opportunity of talking with the many different kinds of animals there about the signs they were in the habit of using. And on these signs, which he carefully put down in notebooks, he built up a sort of written language for animals to use—or animal scribble, as he called it—the same as he had done with the birds.

"He held scribbling classes for the animals"

Whenever he could spare the time he held afternoon scribbling classes for the animals in the Great Hollow. And they were very well attended. He found the monkeys, of course, the easiest to teach and, because they were so clever, he made some of them into assistant teachers. But the zebras were quite bright too. The Doctor discovered that these intelligent beasts had ways of marking and twisting the grasses to show where they had smelled lions about—though, happily, they did not have to use this trick in the Animals' Paradise but had brought it with them when they had swum across from the mainland of Africa.

The Doctor's pets found it quite thrilling to go through the mail that arrived each day to see if there were any letters for them. At the beginning of course there wasn't much. But one day Quip had returned from Puddleby with an answer to the Doctor's letter to the Cats'-Meat-Man. Mr. Matthew Mugg had written (through his wife) that he had hung the letter for Cheapside on an apple tree in the garden where the sparrow would surely see it when he arrived. The windows of the house were all right, he wrote; but the back door could do with a coat of paint.

And while Quip had been waiting for this letter to be written he had filled in the time at Puddleby by gossiping with all the starlings and blackbirds in the Doctor's garden about the wonderful new Animals' post office on the island of No-Man's-Land. And pretty soon every creature in and around Puddleby had got to hear of it.

After that, of course, letters began to arrive at the houseboat for the Doctor's pets. And one morning, when the mail was sorted, there was a letter for Dab-Dab from her sister; one for the white mouse written by a cousin from the Doctor's bureau drawer; one for Jip from the collie who lived next door in Puddleby and one for Too-Too, telling him he had a new family of six young ones in the rafters of the stable. But there was nothing for Gub-Gub. The poor pig was nearly in tears at being left out. And when the Doctor went into town that afternoon Gub-Gub asked could he come along.

The next day the post-birds complained that the mail was an extra heavy one. And when it was sorted, there were ten thick letters for Gub-Gub and none for anybody else. Jip got suspicious about this and looked over Gub-Gub's shoulder while he opened them. In each one there was a banana skin.

"Who sent you those?" asked Jip.

"I sent them to myself," said Gub-Gub, "from Fantippo yesterday. I don't see why you fellows should get all the mail. Nobody writes to me, so I write to myself."

[CHAPTER II]
CHEAPSIDE

It was a great day at the Doctor's post office when Cheapside, the London sparrow, arrived from Puddleby to look after the city deliveries for Fantippo.

The Doctor was eating his lunch of sandwiches at the information desk when the little bird popped his head through the window and said in his cheeky Cockney voice:

"'Ulloa, Doctor, 'ere we are again! What ho! The old firm! Who would 'ave thought you'd come to this?"

Cheapside was a character. Anyone on seeing him for the first time would probably guess that he spent his life in city streets. His whole expression was different from other birds. In Speedy's eyes, for instance—though nobody would dream of thinking him stupid—there was an almost noble look of country honesty. But in the eyes of Cheapside, the London Sparrow, there was a saucy, dare-devil expression that seemed to say "Don't you think for one moment that you'll ever get the better of me. I'm a Cockney bird."

"Cheapside, the London sparrow"

"Why, Cheapside!" cried John Dolittle. "At last you've come. My, but it's good to see you! Did you have a pleasant journey?"

"Not bad—not 'alf bad," said Cheapside, eyeing some crumbs from the Doctor's lunch which lay upon the desk. "No storms. Pretty decent travellin'. 'Ot? Well, I should say it was 'ot. 'Ot enough for an 'Ottentot!... Quaint place you 'ave 'ere—sort of a barge?"

By this time all the animals had heard Cheapside arriving and they came rushing in to see the traveler and to hear the news of Puddleby and England.

"How is the old horse in the stable?" asked John Dolittle.

"Pretty spry," said Cheapside. "Course 'e ain't as young as 'e used to be. But 'e's lively enough for an old 'un. 'E asked me to bring you a bunch of crimson ramblers—just bloomin' over the stable door, they was. But I says to 'im, I says, 'What d'yer take me for, an omnibus?' Fancy a feller at my time of life carrying a bunch of roses all the way down the Atlantic! Folks would think I was goin' to a weddin' at the South Pole."

"Gracious, Cheapside!" said the Doctor, laughing. "It makes me quite homesick for England to hear your Cockney chirp."

"And me, too," sighed Jip. "Were there many rats in the woodshed, Cheapside?"

"'Undreds of them," said the sparrow—"as big as rabbits. And that uppish you'd think they owned the place!"

"I'll soon settle them, when I get back," said Jip. "I hope we go soon."

"How does the garden look, Cheapside?" asked the Doctor.

"A1," said the sparrow. "Weeds in the paths, o' course. But the iris under the kitchen window looked something lovely, they did."

"Anything new in London?" asked the white mouse who was also city bred.

"Yes," said Cheapside. "There's always something doing in good old London. They've got a new kind of cab that goes on two wheels instead of four. A man called 'Ansom invented it. Much faster than the old 'ackneys they are. You see 'em everywhere. And there's a new greengrocer's shop near the Royal Exchange."

"I'm going to have a greengrocer's shop of my own when I grow up," murmured Gub-Gub, "—in England where they grow good vegetables—I'm awfully tired of Africa—and then I'll watch the new vegetables coming into season all the year round."

"He's always talking about that," said Too-Too. "Such an ambition in life to have—to run a greengrocer's shop!"

"Ah, England!" cried Gub-Gub sentimentally. "What is there more beautiful in life than the heart of a young lettuce in the Spring?"

"'Ark at 'im," said Cheapside, raising his eyebrows. "Ain't 'e the poetical porker? Why don't you write a bunch of sonnets to the Skunk-Kissed-Cabbages of Louisiana, Mr. Bacon?"

"Well, now, look here, Cheapside," said the Doctor. "We want you to get these city deliveries straightened out for us in the town of Fantippo. Our post birds are having great difficulty finding the right houses to take letters to. You're a city-bird, born and bred. Do you think you can help us?"

"I'll see what I can do for you, Doc," said the Sparrow, "after I've taken a look around this 'eathen town of yours. But first I want a bath. I'm all heat up from flying under a broiling sun. Ain't you got no puddles round here for a bird to take a bath in?"

"No, this isn't puddly climate," said the Doctor. "You're not in England, you know. But I'll bring you my shaving mug and you can take a bath in that."

"Mind, you wash the soap out first, Doc," chirped the Sparrow, "it gets into my eyes."

The next day after Cheapside had had a good sleep to rest up from his long journey the Doctor took the London sparrow to show him around the town of Fantippo.

"Well, Doc," said Cheapside after they had seen the sights, "as a town I don't think much of it—really, I don't. It's big. I'll say that for it. I 'ad no idea they 'ad towns as big as this in Africa. But the streets is so narrow! I can see why they don't 'ave no cabs 'ere—'ardly room for a goat to pass, let alone a four-wheeler. And as for the 'ouses, they seem to be made of the insides of old mattresses. The first thing we'll 'ave to do is to make old King Cocoanut tell 'is subjects to put door knockers on their doors. What is 'ome without a door knocker, I'd like to know? Of course, your postmen can't deliver the letters, when they've no knockers to knock with."

"I'll attend to that," said the Doctor. "I'll see the King about it this afternoon."

"And then, they've got no letter boxes in the doors," said Cheapside. "There ought to be slots made to poke the letters in. The only place these bloomin' 'eathens have for a postman to put a letter is down the chimney."

"Very well," said the Doctor. "I'll attend to that, too. Shall I have the letter boxes in the middle of the door, or would you like them on one side?"

"Put 'em on each side of the doors—two to every 'ouse," said Cheapside.

"What's that for?" asked the Doctor.

"That's a little idea of my own," said the Sparrow. "We'll 'ave one box for the bills and one for sure-enough letters. You see, people are so disappointed when they 'ear the postman's knock and come to the door, expecting to find a nice letter from a friend or news that money's been left them and all they get is a bill from the tailor. But if we have two boxes on each door, one marked 'Bills,' and the other 'Letters,' the postman can put all the bills in one box and the honest letters in the other. As I said, it's a little idea of my own. We might as well be real up-to-date. What do you think of it?"

"I think it's a splendid notion," said the Doctor. "Then the people need only have one disappointment—when they clear the bill box on the day set for paying their debts."

"That's the idea," said Cheapside. "And tell the post-birds—as soon as we've got the knockers on—to knock once for a bill and twice for a letter, so the folks in the 'ouse will know whether to come and get the mail or not. Oh, I tell you, we'll show these poor pagans a thing or two before we're finished! We'll 'ave a post office in Fantipsy that really is a post office. And, now, 'ow about the Christmas boxes, Doctor? Postmen always expect a handsome present around Christmas time, you know."

"Well, I'm rather afraid," said the Doctor doubtfully, "that these people don't celebrate Christmas as a holiday."

"Don't celebrate Christmas!" cried Cheapside in a shocked voice. "What a disgraceful scandal! Well, look here, Doctor. You just tell King Cocoa-butter that if 'e and 'is people don't celebrate the festive season by giving us post-birds Christmas-boxes there ain't going to be no mail delivered in Fantipsy from New Year's to Easter. And you can tell 'im I said so. It's 'igh time somebody hen-lightened 'is hignorance."

"All right," said the Doctor, "I'll attend to that, too."

"Tell 'im," said Cheapside, "we'll expect two lumps of sugar on every doorstep Christmas morning for the post-birds. No sugar, no letters!"

That afternoon the Doctor called upon the King and explained to him the various things that Cheapside wanted. And His Majesty gave in to them, every one. Beautiful brass knockers were screwed on all the doors—light ones, which the birds could easily lift. And very elegant they looked—by far the most up-to-date part of the ramshackle dwellings. The double boxes were also put up, with one place for bills and one for the letters.

"The double letter boxes of Fantippo"

John Dolittle instructed King Koko as well in the meaning of Christmas time, which should be a season for giving gifts. And among the Fantippo people the custom of making presents at Christmas became very general—not only to postmen, but to friends and relatives, too.

That is why when, several years after the Doctor had left this country, some missionaries visited that part of Africa, they found to their astonishment that Christmas was celebrated there, although the people were heathens. But they never learned that the custom had been brought about by Cheapside, the cheeky London sparrow.

And now very soon Cheapside took entire charge of the city delivery of mails in Fantippo. Of course, as soon as the mail began to get heavy, when the people got the habit of writing more to their friends and relatives, Cheapside could not deal with all the mail himself. So he sent a message by a swallow to get fifty sparrows from the streets of London (who were, like himself, accustomed to city ways), to help him with the delivery of letters. And around the native holiday seasons, the Harvest Moon and the Coming of the Rains, he had to send for fifty more to deal with the extra mail.

And if you happened to pass down the main street of Fantippo at nine in the morning or four in the afternoon you would hear the Rat-tat-tat of the post-sparrows, knocking on the doors—Tat-tat, if it was a real letter, and just Rat! if it was a bill.

Of course, they could not carry more than one or two letters at a time—being such small birds. But it only took them a moment to fly back to the houseboat for another load, where Too-Too was waiting for them at the "city" window with piles of mail, sorted out into boxes marked "Central," "West Central," "Southwest," etc., for the different parts of the town. This was another idea of Cheapside's, to divide up the city into districts, the same as they did in London, so the mail could be delivered quickly without too much hunting for streets.

Cheapside's help was, indeed, most valuable to the Doctor. The King himself said that the mails were wonderfully managed. The letters were brought regularly and never left at the wrong house.

He had only one fault, had Cheapside. And that was being cheeky. Whenever he got into an argument his Cockney swearing was just dreadful. And in spite of the Doctor's having issued orders time and time again that he expected his post office clerks and mail birds to be strictly polite to the public, Cheapside was always getting into rows—which he usually started himself.

One day when King Koko's pet white peacock came to the Doctor and complained that the Cockney sparrow had made faces at him over the palace wall the Doctor became quite angry and read the City Manager a long lecture.

"The royal peacock complained that Cheapside had made faces at him"

Then Cheapside got together a gang of his tough London sparrow friends and one night they flew into the palace garden and mobbed the white peacock and pulled three feathers out of his beautiful tail.

This last piece of rowdyism was too much for John Dolittle and, calling up Cheapside, he discharged him on the spot—though he was very sorry to do it.

But when the sparrow went all his London friends went with him and the post office was left with no city birds to attend to the city deliveries. The swallows and other birds tried their hardest to get letters around to the houses properly. But they couldn't. And before long complaints began to come in from the townspeople.

Then the Doctor was sorry and wished he hadn't discharged Cheapside, who seemed to be the only one who could manage this part of the mails properly.

But one day, to the Doctor's great delight—though he tried hard to look angry—Cheapside strolled into the post office with a straw in the corner of his mouth, looking as though nothing had happened.

John Dolittle had thought that he and his friends had gone home to London. But they hadn't. They knew the Doctor would need them and they had just hung around outside the town. And then the Doctor, after lecturing Cheapside again about politeness, gave him back his job.

But the next day the rowdy little sparrow threw a bottle of post office ink over the royal white peacock when he came to the houseboat with the King to take tea. Then the Doctor discharged Cheapside again.

In fact, the Doctor used to discharge him for rudeness regularly about once a month. And the city mails always got tied up soon after. But, to the Doctor's great relief, the City Manager always came back just when the tie-up was at its worst and put things right again.

Cheapside was a wonderful bird. But it seemed as though he just couldn't go a whole month without being rude to somebody. The Doctor said it was in his nature.

[CHAPTER III]
THE BIRDS THAT HELPED COLUMBUS

After the Doctor had written his first letter by Swallow Mail to the Cats'-Meat-Man he began to think of all the other people to whom he had neglected to write for years and years. And very soon every spare moment he had was filled in writing to friends and acquaintances everywhere.

And then, of course, there were the letters he sent to and received from birds and animals all over the world. First he wrote to the various bird leaders who were in charge of the branch offices at Cape Horn, Thibet, Tahiti, Kashmir, Christmas Island, Greenland and Puddleby-on-the-Marsh. To them he gave careful instructions how the branch post offices were to be run—always insisting on strict politeness from the post office clerks; and he answered all the questions that the branch postmasters wrote asking for guidance.

And he sent letters to various fellow naturalists whom he knew in different countries and gave them a whole lot of information about the yearly flights or migration of birds. Because, of course, in the bird mail business he learned a great deal on that subject that had never been known to naturalists before.

Outside the post office he had a notice board set up on which were posted the Outgoing and Incoming Mails. The notices would read something like this:

Next Wednesday, July 18, the Red-Winged Plovers will leave this office for Denmark and points on the Skager Rack. Post your mail early, please. All letters should bear a four-penny stamp. Small packages will also be carried on this flight for Morocco, Portugal and the Channel Islands.

Whenever a new flight of birds were expected at No-Man's-Land the Doctor always had a big supply of food of their particular kind got ready for their arrival before-hand. He had at the big meeting with the leaders put down in his notebook the dates of all the yearly flights of the different kinds of birds, where they started from and where they went to. And this notebook was kept with great care.

One day Speedy was sitting on top of the weighing scales while the Doctor was sorting a large pile of outgoing letters. Suddenly the Skimmer cried out:

"Great heavens, Doctor, I've gained an ounce! I'll never be able to fly in the races again. Look, it says four and a half ounces!"

"'Great heavens, Doctor, I've gained an ounce!'"

"No, Speedy," said the Doctor. "See, you have an ounce weight on the pan as well as yourself. That makes you only three and a half ounces."

"Oh," said the Skimmer, "is that the trouble? I was never good at arithmetic. What a relief! Thank goodness, I haven't gained!"

"Listen, Speedy," said the Doctor, "in this batch of mail we have a lot of letters for Panama. What mails have we got going out to-morrow?"

"I'm not sure," said Speedy. "I'll go and look at the notice board. I think it's the Golden Jays.... Yes," he said, coming back in a moment, "that's right, the Golden Jays to-morrow, Tuesday, the 15th, weather permitting."

"Where are they bound for, Speedy?" asked the Doctor. "My notebook's in the safe."

"From Dahomey to Venezuela," said Speedy, raising his right foot to smother a yawn.

"Good," said John Dolittle. "Then they can take these Panama letters for me. It won't be much out of their way. What do Golden Jays eat?"

"They are very fond of acorns," said Speedy.

"All right," said the Doctor. "Please tell Gub-Gub for me to go across to the island and get the wild boars to gather up a couple of sacks of acorns. I want all the birds who work for us to have a good feed before they leave the Main Office for their flights."

The next morning when the Doctor woke up he heard a tremendous chattering all around the post office and he knew that the Golden Jays had arrived overnight. And after he had dressed and come out on to the veranda, there, sure enough, they were—myriads of very handsome gold and black birds, swarming everywhere, gossiping away at a great rate and gobbling up the acorns laid out for them in bushels.

The leader, who already knew the Doctor, of course, came forward to get orders and to see how much mail there was to be carried.

After everything had been arranged and the leader had decided he need expect no tornadoes or bad weather for the next twenty-four hours, he gave a command. Then all the birds rose in the air to fly away—whistling farewell to Postmaster General Dolittle and the Head Office.

"Oh, by the way, Doctor," said the leader, turning back a moment, "did you ever hear of a man called Christopher Columbus?"

"Oh, surely," said the Doctor. "He discovered America in 1492."

"Well, I just wanted to tell you," said the Jay, "that if it hadn't been for an ancestor of mine he wouldn't have discovered it in 1492—later perhaps, but not in 1492."

"Oh, indeed!" said John Dolittle. "Tell me more about it." And he pulled a notebook out of his pocket and started to write.

"Well," said the Jay, "the story was handed down to me by my mother, who heard it from my grandmother, who got it from my great-grandmother, and so on, way back to an ancestor of ours who lived in America in the fifteenth century. Our kind of birds in those days did not come across to this side of the Atlantic, neither summer nor winter. We used to spend from March to September in the Bermudas and the rest of the year in Venezuela. And when we made the autumn journey south we used to stop at the Bahama Islands to rest on the way.

"The fall of the year 1492 was a stormy season. Gales and squalls were blowing up all the time and we did not get started on our trip until the second week in October. My ancestor had been the leader of the flock for a long time. But he had grown sort of old and feeble and a younger bird was elected in his place to lead the Golden Jays to Venezuela that year. The new leader was a conceited youngster, and because he had been chosen he thought he knew everything about navigation and weather and sea crossings.

"Shortly after the birds started they sighted, to their great astonishment, a number of boats sailing on a westward course. This was about half way between the Bermudas and the Bahamas. The ships were much larger than anything they had ever seen before. All they had been accustomed to up to that time were little canoes, with Indians in them.

"The new leader immediately got scared and gave the order for the Jays to swing in further toward the land, so they wouldn't be seen by the men who crowded these large boats. He was a superstitious leader and anything he didn't understand he kept away from. But my ancestor did not go with the flock, but made straight for the ships.

"He was gone about twenty minutes, and presently he flew after the other birds and said to the new leader: 'Over there in those ships a brave man is in great danger. They come from Europe, seeking land. The sailors, not knowing how near they are to sighting it, have mutinied against their admiral. I am an old bird and I know this brave sea-farer. Once when I was making a crossing—the first I ever made—a gale came up and I was separated from my fellows. For three days I had to fly with the battering wind. And finally I was blown eastward near the Old World. Just when I was ready to drop into the sea from exhaustion I spied a ship. I simply had to rest. I was weather-beaten and starving. So I made for the boat and fell half dead upon the deck. The sailors were going to put me in a cage. But the captain of the ship—this same navigator whose life is now threatened by his rebellious crew in those ships over there—fed me crumbs and nursed me back to life. Then he let me go free, to fly to Venezuela when the weather was fair. We are land birds. Let us now save this good man's life by going to his ship and showing ourselves to his sailors. They will then know that land is near and be obedient to their captain."

"Yes, yes," said the Doctor. "Go on. I remember Columbus writing of land birds in his diary. Go on."

"So," said the Jay, "the whole flock turned and made for Columbus's fleet. They were only just in time. For the sailors were ready to kill their admiral, who, they said, had brought them on a fool's errand to find land where there was none. He must turn back and sail for Spain, they said, or be killed.

"'The sailors were ready to kill their admiral'"

"But when the sailors saw a great flock of land birds passing over the ship going southwest instead of west, they took new heart, for they were sure land must lie not far to the southwestward.

"So we led them on to the Bahamas. And on the seventh day, very early in the morning, the crew, with a cry of 'Land! Land!' fell down upon their knees and gave thanks to heaven. Watling's Island, one of the smaller Bahamas, lay ahead of them, smiling in the sea.

"Then the sailors gathered about the admiral, Christopher Columbus, whom a little before they were going to kill, and cheered and called him the greatest navigator in the world—which, in truth, he was.

"But even Columbus himself never learned to his dying day that it was the weather-beaten bird who had fallen on his friendly deck some years before, who had led him by the shortest cut to the land of the New World.

"So you see, Doctor," the Jay ended, picking up his letters and getting ready to fly, "if it hadn't been for my ancestor Christopher Columbus would have had to turn back to please his sailors, or be killed. If it hadn't been for him America would not have been discovered in 1492—later, perhaps, but not in 1492. Good-bye! I must be going. Thanks for the acorns."

[CHAPTER IV]
CAPE STEPHEN LIGHT

On the coast of West Africa, about twenty miles to the northward of Fantippo, there was a cape running out into the sea which had a lighthouse on it called the Cape Stephen Light. This light was kept carefully burning by the government who controlled that part of Africa, in order that ships should see it from the sea and know where they were. It was a dangerous part of the coast, this. There were many rocks and shallows near the end of Cape Stephen. And if the light were ever allowed to go out at night, of course, ships traveling that part of the sea would be in great danger of running into the long cape and wrecking themselves.

"There were many rocks and shallows near the end of Cape Stephen"

Now, one evening not long after the Golden Jays had gone west, the Doctor was writing letters in the post office by the light of a candle. It was late and all the animals were fast asleep long ago. Presently while he wrote he heard a sound a long way off, coming through the open window at his elbow. He put down his pen and listened.

It was the sound of a seabird, calling away out at sea. Now, seabirds don't, as a rule, call very much unless they are in great numbers. This call sounded like a single bird. The Doctor put his head through the window and looked out.

It was a dark night, as black as pitch, and he couldn't see a thing—especially as his eyes were used to the light of the candle. The mysterious call was repeated again and again, like a cry of distress from the sea. The Doctor didn't know quite what to make of it. But soon he thought it seemed to be coming nearer. And, grabbing his hat, he ran out on to the veranda.

"What is it? What's the matter?" he shouted into the darkness over the sea.

He got no answer. But soon, with a rush of wings that nearly blew his candle out, a great seagull swept down on to the houseboat rail beside him.

"Doctor," panted the gull, "the Cape Stephen Light is out. I don't know what's the matter. It has never gone out before. We use it as a land-mark, you know, when we are flying after dark. The night's as black as ink. I'm afraid some ship will surely run into the cape. I thought I'd come and tell you."

"Good heavens!" cried the Doctor. "What can have happened? There's a lighthouse keeper living there to attend to it. Was it lighted earlier in the evening?"

"I don't know," said the gull. "I was coming in from catching herring—they're running just now, you know, a little to the North. And, expecting to see the light, I lost my way and flew miles too far south. When I found out my mistake I went back, flying close down by the shore. And I came to Stephen Cape, but it had no light. It was black as anything. And I would have run right into the rocks myself if I hadn't been going carefully."

"How far would it be from here?" asked John Dolittle.

"Well, by land it would be twenty-five miles to where the lighthouse stands," said the gull. "But by water it would be only about twelve, I should say."

"All right," said the Doctor, hurrying into his coat. "Wait just a moment till I wake Dab-Dab."

The Doctor ran into the post office kitchen and woke the poor housekeeper, who was slumbering soundly beside the kitchen stove.

"Listen, Dab-Dab!" said the Doctor, shaking her. "Wake up! The Cape Stephen Light's gone out!"

"Whazhat?" said Dab-Dab, sleepily opening her eyes. "Stove's gone out?"

"No, the lighthouse on Cape Stephen," said the Doctor. "A gull just came and told me. The shipping's in danger. Wrecks, you know, and all that. Wake up and look sensible, for pity's sake!"

At last poor Dab-Dab, fully awakened, understood what was the matter. And in a moment she was up and doing.

"I know where it is, Doctor. I'll fly right over there.—No, I won't need the gull to guide me. You keep him to show you the way. Follow me immediately in the canoe. If I can find out anything I'll come back and meet you half way. If not, I'll wait for you by the lighthouse tower. Thank goodness, it's a calm night, anyway—even if it is dark!"

With a flap of her wings, Dab-Dab flew right through the open window and was gone into the night, while the Doctor grabbed his little black medicine bag and, calling to the gull to follow him, ran down to the other end of the houseboat, untied the canoe and jumped in. Then he pushed off, headed around the island of No-Man's-Land and paddled for all he was worth for the seaward end of Cape Stephen.

About half way to the long neck of land that jutted out into the gloomy ocean the Doctor's canoe was met by Dab-Dab—though how she found it in the darkness, with only the sound of the paddle to guide her, goodness only knows.

"Doctor," said she, "if the lighthouse keeper is in there at all he must be sick, or something. I hammered on the windows, but nobody answered."

"Dear me!" muttered the Doctor, paddling harder than ever, "I wonder what can have happened?"

"And that's not the worst," said Dab-Dab. "On the far side of the cape—you can't see it from here—there's the headlight of a big sailing ship, bearing down southward, making straight for the rocks. They can't see the lighthouse and they don't know what danger they're in."

"Good Lord!" groaned the Doctor, and he nearly broke the paddle as he churned the water astern to make the canoe go faster yet.

"How far off the rocks is the ship now?" asked the gull.

"About a mile, I should say," said Dab-Dab. "But she's a big one—judging by the height of her mast-light—and she won't be long before she's aground on the cape."

"Keep right on, Doctor," said the gull. "I'm going off to get some friends of mine."

And the seagull spread his wings and flew away toward the land, calling the same cry as the Doctor had heard through the post office window.

John Dolittle had no idea of what he meant to do. Nor was the gull himself sure that he would be in time to succeed with the plan he had in mind. But presently, to his delight, the seabird heard his call being answered from the rocky shores shrouded in darkness. And soon he had hundreds of his brother gulls circling round him in the night.

Then he took them to the great ship, which was sailing calmly onward toward the rocks and destruction. And there, going forward to where the helmsman held the spokes of the wheel and watched the compass swinging before him in the light of a little, dim lamp, the gulls started dashing themselves into the wheelman's face and covering the glass of the compass, so he could not steer the ship.

"The gulls dashed themselves into the wheelman's face"

The helmsman, battling with the birds, set up a yell for help, saying he couldn't see to steer the boat. Then the officers and sailors rushed up to his assistance and tried to beat the birds off.

In the meantime the Doctor, in his canoe, had reached the end of Cape Stephen and, springing ashore, he scrambled up the rocks to where the great tower of the lighthouse rose skyward over the black, unlighted sea. Feeling and fumbling, he found the door and hammered on it, yelling to be let in. But no one answered him. And Dab-Dab whispered in a hoarse voice that the light of the ship was nearer now—less than half a mile from the rocks.

Then the Doctor drew back for a run and threw his whole weight against the door. But the hinges and lock had been made to stand the beating of the sea and they budged no more than if he had been a fly.

At last, with a roar of rage, the Doctor grabbed up a rock from the ground as big as a chair and banged it with all his might against the lock of the lighthouse door. With a crash the door flew open and the Doctor sprang within.

On the ship the seamen were still fighting with the gulls. The captain, seeing that no helmsman could steer the boat right with thousands of wings fluttering in his eyes, gave the orders to lay the ship to for a little and to get out the hose pipes. And a strong stream of water was turned on to the gulls around the helmsman, so they could no longer get near him. Then the ship got under way again and came on toward the cape once more.

Inside the lighthouse the Doctor found the darkness blacker still. With hands outstretched before him, he hurried forward and the first thing he did was to stumble over a man who was lying on the floor just within the door. Without waiting to see what was the matter with him, the Doctor jumped over his body and began to grope his way up the winding stairs of the tower that led to the big lamp at the top.

Meanwhile Dab-Dab stayed below at the door, looking out over the sea at the mast light of the ship—which, after a short delay, was now coming on again toward the rocks. At any minute she expected the great beam of the lighthouse lamp to flare out over the sea, as soon as the Doctor should get it lit, to warn the sailors of their danger. But, instead, she presently heard the Doctor's agonized voice calling from the head of the stairs:

"Dab-Dab! Dab-Dab! I can't light it. We forgot to bring matches!"

"Well, what have you done with the matches, Doctor?" called Dab-Dab. "They were always in your coat."

"I left them beside my pipe on the information desk," came the Doctor's voice from the top of the dark stairs. "But there must be matches in the lighthouse somewhere. We must find them."

"What chance have we of that?" shouted Dab-Dab. "It's as black as black down here. And the ship is coming nearer every minute."

"Feel in the man's pockets," called John Dolittle. "Hurry!"

In a minute Dab-Dab went through the pockets of the man who lay so still upon the floor.

"He hasn't any matches on him," she shouted. "Not a single one."

"Confound the luck!" muttered John Dolittle.

And then there was a solemn silence in the lighthouse while the Doctor above and Dab-Dab below thought gloomily of that big ship sailing onward to her wreck because they had no matches.

But suddenly out of the black stillness came a small, sweet voice, singing, somewhere near.

"Dab-Dab!" cried the Doctor in a whisper. "Do you hear that? A canary! There's a canary singing somewhere—probably in a cage in the lighthouse kitchen!"

In a moment he was clattering down the stairs.

"Come on," he cried. "We must find the kitchen. That canary will know where the matches are kept. Find the kitchen!"

Then the two of them went stumbling around in the darkness, feeling the walls, and presently they came upon a low door, opened it and fell headlong down a short flight of steps that led to the lighthouse kitchen. This was a little underground room, like a cellar, cut out of the rock on which the lighthouse stood. If there was any fire or stove in it it had long since gone out, for the darkness here was as black as anywhere else. But as soon as the door had opened, the trills of the song bird grew louder.

"Tell me," called John Dolittle, in canary language, "where are the matches? Quick!"

"Oh, at last you've come," said a high, small, polite voice out of the darkness. "Would you mind putting a cover over my cage? There's a draught and I can't sleep. Nobody's been near me since midday. I don't know what can have happened to the keeper. He always covers up my cage at tea-time. But to-night I wasn't covered at all, so I went on singing. You'll find my cover up on the——"

"Matches! Matches! Where are the matches?" screamed Dab-Dab. "The light's out and there's a ship in danger! Where are the matches kept?"

"On the mantelpiece, next to the pepper box," said the canary. "Come over here to my cage and feel along to your left—high up—and your hand will fall right on them."

The Doctor sprang across the room, upsetting a chair on his way, and felt along the wall. His hand touched the corner of a stone shelf and the next moment Dab-Dab gave a deep sigh of relief, for she heard the cheerful rattle of a box of matches as the Doctor fumbled to strike a light.

"You'll find a candle on the table—there—look—behind you," said the canary, when the match light dimly lit up the kitchen.

With trembling fingers the Doctor lit the candle. Then, shielding the flame with his hand, he bounded out of the room and up the stairs.

"The Doctor lit the candle"

"At last!" he muttered. "Let's hope I'm not too late!"

At the head of the kitchen steps he met the seagull coming into the lighthouse with two companions.

"Doctor," cried the gull, "we held off the ship as long as we could. But the stupid sailors, not knowing we were trying to save them, turned hoses on us and we had to give up. The ship is terribly near now."

Without a word the Doctor sped on up the winding steps of the tower. Round and round he went, upward, till he was ready to drop from dizziness.

At length reaching the great glass lamp chamber at the top, he set down his candle and, striking two matches at once he held one in each hand and lit the big wick in two places.

By this time Dab-Dab had gone outside again and was watching over the sea for the oncoming ship. And when at last the great light from the big lamp at the top of the tower suddenly flared out over the sea there was the bow of the vessel, not more than a hundred yards from the rocky shore of the cape!

Then came a cry from the look-out, shouted orders from the captain, much blowing of whistles and ringing of bells. And just in time to save herself from a watery grave, the big ship swung her nose out to sea and sailed safely past upon her way.

[CHAPTER V]
GULLS AND SHIPS

The morning sun peeping in at the window of the lighthouse found the Doctor still working over the keeper where he lay at the foot of the tower stairs.

"He's coming to," said Dab-Dab. "See, his eyes are beginning to blink."

"Get me some more clean water from the kitchen," said the Doctor, who was bathing a large lump on the side of the man's head.

Presently the keeper opened his eyes wide and stared up into the Doctor's face.

"Who?——What?"——he murmured stupidly. "The light!—I must attend to the light!—I must attend to the light!" and he struggled weakly to get up.

"It's all right," said the Doctor. "The light has been lit. And it's nearly day now. Here, drink this. Then you'll feel better."

And the Doctor held some medicine to his lips which he had taken from the little black bag.

In a short while the man grew strong enough to stand on his feet. Then, with the Doctor's help, he walked as far as the kitchen, where John Dolittle and Dab-Dab made him comfortable in an armchair, lit the stove and cooked his breakfast for him.

"The Doctor and Dab-Dab cooked his breakfast for him"

"I'm mighty grateful to you, stranger, whoever you be," said the man. "Usually there's two of us here, me and my partner, Fred. But yesterday morning I let Fred go off with the ketch to get oysters. That's why I'm alone. I was coming down the stairs about noon, from putting new wicks in the lamp, when my foot slipped and I took a tumble to the bottom. My head fetched up against the wall and knocked the senses right out of me. How long I lay there before you found me I don't know."

"Well, all's well that ends well," said the Doctor. "Take this; you must be nearly starved."

And he handed the keeper a large cup of steaming coffee.

About ten o'clock in the morning Fred, the partner, returned in the little sail-boat from his oyster-gathering expedition. He was very much worried when he heard of the accident which had happened while he had been off duty. Fred, like the other keeper, was a Londoner and a seaman. He was a pleasant fellow and both he and his partner (who was now almost entirely recovered from his injury) were very glad of the Doctor's company to break the tiresome dullness of their lonely life.

They took John Dolittle all over the lighthouse to see the workings of it. And outside they showed him with great pride the tiny garden of tomatoes and nasturtiums which they had planted near the foot of the tower.

They only got a holiday once a year, they told John Dolittle, when a government ship stopped near Cape Stephen and took them back to England for six weeks' vacation, leaving two other men in their place to take care of the light while they were gone.

They asked the Doctor if he could give them any news of their beloved London. But he had to admit that he also had been away from that city for a long time. However, while they were talking Cheapside came into the lighthouse kitchen, looking for the Doctor. The city sparrow was delighted to find that the keepers were also Cockneys. And he gave them, through the Doctor, all the latest gossip of Wapping, Limehouse, the East India Docks and the wharves and the shipping of London River.

The two keepers thought that the Doctor was surely crazy when he started a conversation of chirps with Cheapside. But from the answers they got to their questions they could see there was no fake about the news of the city which the sparrow gave.

Cheapside said the faces of those two Cockney seamen were the best scenery he had looked on since he had come to Africa. And after that first visit he was always flying over to the lighthouse in his spare time to see his new friends. Of course, he couldn't talk to them, because neither of them knew sparrow talk—not even Cockney sparrow talk. But Cheapside loved being with them, anyway.

"They're such a nice, wholesome, Christian change," he said, "after these 'ere 'eathen hidolaters. And you should just hear Fred sing 'See That My Grave's Kept Green.'"

The lighthouse keepers were sorry to have the Doctor go and they wouldn't let him leave till he promised to come and take dinner with them next Sunday.

Then, after they had loaded his canoe with a bushel of rosy tomatoes and a bouquet of nasturtiums, the Doctor, with Dab-Dab and Cheapside, paddled away for Fantippo, while the keepers waved to them from the lighthouse door.

The Doctor had not paddled very far on his return journey to the post office when the seagull who had brought the news of the light overtook him.

"Everything all right now, Doctor?" he asked as he swept in graceful circles around the canoe.

"Yes," said John Dolittle, munching a tomato. "The man got an awful crack on the head from that fall. But he will be all over it in a little while. If it hadn't been for the canary, though, who told us where the matches were—and for you, too, holding back the sailors—we would never have saved that ship."

The Doctor threw a tomato skin out of the canoe and the gull caught it neatly in the air before it touched the water.

"Well, I'm glad we were in time," said the bird.

"Tell me," asked the Doctor, watching him thoughtfully as he hovered and swung and curved around the tiny boat, "what made you come and bring me the news about the light? Gulls don't, as a rule, bother much about people or what happens to ships, do they?"

"You're mistaken, Doctor," said the gull, catching another skin with deadly accuracy. "Ships and the men in them are very important to us—not so much down here in the South. But up North, why, if it wasn't for the ships in the winter we gulls would often have a hard time finding enough to eat. You see, after it gets cold fish and sea foods become sort of scarce. Sometimes we make out by going up the rivers to towns and hanging about the artificial lakes in parks where fancy waterfowl are kept. The people come to the parks and throw biscuits into the lakes for the waterfowl. But if we are around the biscuits get caught before they hit the lake—like that," and the gull snatched a third tomato skin on the wing with a lightning lunge.

"The gull caught the tomato skin with a lightning lunge"

"But you were speaking of ships," said the Doctor.

"Yes," the gull went on—rather indistinctly, because his mouth was full of tomato skin—"we find ships much better for winter feeding. You see, it isn't really fair of us to go and bag all the food from the fancy waterfowl in parks. So we never do it unless we have to. Usually in winter we stick to the ships. Why, two years ago I and a cousin of mine lived the whole year round following ships for the food scraps the stewards threw out into the sea. The rougher the weather, the more food we get, because then the passengers don't feel like eating and most of the grub gets thrown out. Yes, I and my cousin attached ourselves, as it were, to the Transatlantic Packet Line, which runs ships from Glasgow to Philadelphia, and traveled back and forth with them across the ocean dozens of trips. But later on we changed over to the Binnacle Line—Tilbury to Boston."

"Why?" asked the Doctor.

"We found they ran a better table for their passengers. With the Binnacle, who threw us out morning biscuits, afternoon tea and sandwiches last thing at night—as well as three square meals a day—we lived like fighting cocks. It nearly made sailors of us for good. It's a great life—all you do is eat. I should say gulls are interested in men and ships, Doctor—very much so. Why, I wouldn't have an accident happen to a ship for anything—especially a passenger ship."

"Humph! That's very interesting," murmured the Doctor. "And have you seen many accidents—ships in trouble?"

"Oh, heaps of times," said the gull—"storms, collisions at night, ships going aground in the fog, and the rest. Oh, yes, I've seen lots of boats in trouble at sea."

"Ah!" said the Doctor, looking up from his paddling. "See, we are already back at the post office. And there's the pushmi-pullyu ringing the lunch bell. We're just in time. I smell liver and bacon—these tomatoes will go with it splendidly. Won't you come in and join us?" he asked the gull. "I would like to hear more about your life with ships. You've given me an idea."

"Thank you," said the gull. "I am feeling kind of peckish myself. You are very kind. This is the first time I've eaten ship's food inside a ship."

And when the canoe was tied up they went into the houseboat and sat down to lunch at the kitchen table.

"Well, now," said the Doctor to the gull as soon as they were seated, "you were speaking of fogs. What do you do yourself in that kind of weather—I mean, you can't see any more in the fog than the sailors can, can you?"

"No," said the gull, "we can't see any more, it is true. But, my goodness! If we were as helpless in a fog as the sailors are we'd always be lost. What we do, if we are going anywhere special and we run into a fog, is to fly up above it—way up where the air is clear. Then we can find our way as well as ever."

"I see," said the Doctor. "But the storms, what do you do in them to keep yourselves safe?"

"Well, of course, in storms—bad storms—even seabirds can't always go where they want. We seagulls never try to battle our way against a real gale. The petrels sometimes do, but we don't. It is too tiring, and even when you can come down and rest on the water, swimming, every once in a while, it's a dangerous game. We fly with the storm—just let it carry us where it will. Then when the wind dies down we come back and finish our journey."

"But that takes a long time, doesn't it?" asked the Doctor.

"Oh, yes," said the gull, "it wastes a little time. But, you know, we very seldom let ourselves get caught by a storm."

"How do you mean?" asked John Dolittle.

"We know, before we reach one, where it is. And we go around it. No experienced sea bird ever runs his head into a bad storm."

"But how do you know where the storms are?" asked the Doctor.

"Well," said the gull, "I suppose two great advantages we birds have over the sailors in telling when and where to expect bad weather are our good eyesight and our experience. For one thing, we can always rise high in the air and look over the sea for a distance of fifty or sixty miles. Then if we see gales approaching we can turn and run for it. And we can put on more speed than the fastest gale that ever blew. And then, another thing, our experience is so much better than sailors'. Sailors, poor duffers, think they know the sea—that they spend their life on it. They don't—believe me, they don't. Half the time they spend in the cabin, part of the time they spend on shore and a lot of the time they spend sleeping. And even when they are on deck they're not always looking at the sea. They fiddle around with ropes and paint brushes and mops and buckets. You very seldom see a sailor looking at the sea."

"I suppose they get rather tired of it, poor fellows!" murmured the Doctor.

"Maybe. But, after all, if you want to be a good seaman the sea is the thing that counts, isn't it? That's the thing you've got to look at—to study. Now, we sea birds spend nearly all our lives, night and day, Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, looking at the sea. And what is the result?" asked the gull, taking a fresh piece of toast from the rack that Dab-Dab handed him. "The result is this: we know the sea. Why, Doctor, if you were to shut me up in a little box with no windows in it and take me out into the middle of any ocean you liked and then opened the box and let me look at the sea—even if there wasn't a speck of land in sight—I could tell you what ocean it was, and, almost to a mile, what part of it we were in. But, of course, I'd have to know what date it was."

"The gull took a fresh piece of toast"

"Marvelous!" cried the Doctor. "How do you do it?"

"From the color of it; from the little particles of things that float in it; from the kind of fishes and sea creatures swimming in it; from the way the little ripples rippled and the big waves waved; from the smell of it; from the taste, the saltness of it and a couple of hundred other things. But, you know, in most cases—not always, but in most cases—I could tell you where we were with my eyes shut, as soon as I got out of the box, just from the wind blowing on my feathers."

"Great heavens!" the Doctor exclaimed. "You don't say!"

"That's the main trouble with sailors, Doctor. They don't know winds the way they ought. They can tell a northeast wind from a west wind. And a strong one from a weak one. And that's about all. But when you've spent most of your life, the way we have, flying among the winds, using them to climb on, to swoop on and to hover on, you get to know that there's a lot more to a wind besides its direction and its strength. How often it puffs upward or downward, how often it grows weak or grows strong, will tell you, if you know the science of winds, a whole lot."

[CHAPTER VI]
WEATHER BUREAUS

When the lunch was over the Doctor took an armchair beside the kitchen stove and lit his pipe. "I am thinking," he said to the gull, "of starting a new department in my post office. Many of the birds who have helped me in this mail business seem to be remarkably good weather prophets. And what you have just told me about your knowledge of the sea and storms has given me the idea of opening a weather bureau."

"The Doctor took an armchair beside the kitchen stove"

"What's that?" asked Jip, who was brushing up the table crumbs, to be put out later for the birds on the houseboat deck.

"A weather bureau," said the Doctor, "is a very important thing—especially for shipping and farmers. It is an office for telling you what kind of weather you're going to have."

"How do they do it?" asked Gub-Gub.

"They don't," said the Doctor—"at least they do sometimes. But as often as not they're wrong. They do it with instruments—thermometers, barometers, hygrometers and wind gauges and things. But most weather bureaus so far have been pretty poor. I think I can do much better with my birds. They very seldom go wrong in prophesying the weather."

"Well, for what parts of the world do you want to know the weather, Doctor?" asked the gull. "If it's just for Fantippo or West Africa it will be easy as pie. All you ever get here is tornadoes. The rest of the year is just frying heat. But if you want to prophesy the weather for the Straits of Magellan or Nova Zembla or those countries where they have all sorts of fancy weathers, it will be a different matter. Even prophesying the weather for England would keep you busy. Myself, I never thought that the weather itself knew what it was going to do next in England."

"The English climate's all right," put in Cheapside, his feathers ruffling up for a fight. "Don't you get turning up your long nautical nose at England, my lad. What do you call this 'ere? A climate? Well, I should call it a Turkish bath. In England we like variety in our climate. And we get it. That's why Englishmen 'ave such 'earty red faces. 'Ere the poor creatures turn black."

"I would like," said the Doctor, "to be able to prophesy weather for every part of the world. I really don't see why I shouldn't; this office, together with my branch offices, is in communication with birds going to every corner of the earth. I could improve the farming and the agriculture of the whole human race. But also, and especially, I want to have a bureau for ocean weather, to help the ships."

"Ah," said the gull, "for land weather I wouldn't be much help to you. But when it comes to the oceans, I know a bird who can tell you more about sea weather than any bureau ever knew."

"Oh," said the Doctor, "who is that?"

"We call him One Eye," said the gull. "He's an old, old albatross. Nobody knows how old. He lost an eye fighting with a fish eagle over a flounder. But he's the most marvelous weather prophet that ever lived. All sea birds have the greatest respect for his opinions. He has never been known to make a mistake."

"Indeed?" said the Doctor. "I would like very much to meet him."

"I'll get him for you," said the gull. "His home is not very far from here—out on a rock off the Angola coast. He lives there because the shellfish are so plentiful on the rock and he's too feeble—with his bad sight—to catch the other kinds of livelier fish. It's a sort of dull life for his old age, after all the great traveling he has done. He'll be no end pleased to know you want his help. I'll go and tell him right away."

"That will be splendid," said the Doctor. "I think your friend should be very helpful to us."

So the gull, after thanking the Doctor and Dab-Dab for a very excellent luncheon, took a couple of postcards which were going to Angola and flew off to get One Eye, the albatross.

Later in the afternoon the gull returned and with him came the great One Eye, oldest of bird weather prophets.

The Doctor said afterward that he had never seen a bird who reminded him so much of a sailor. He had the rolling, straddling walk of a seafaring man; he smelt strongly of fish; and whenever he spoke of the weather he had an odd trick of squinting up at the sky with his one eye, the way old sailors often do.

He agreed with the Doctor that the idea of a bird weather bureau was quite a possible thing and would lead to much better weather reports than had so far been possible. Then for a whole hour and a half he gave the Doctor a lecture on winds. Every word of this John Dolittle wrote down in a notebook.

Now the wind is the chief thing that changes the weather. And if, for instance, you know that it is raining in the Channel Islands at tea-time on a Thursday—and there's a northeast wind blowing—you can be pretty sure that the rain will reach England some time Thursday night.

The next thing that the Doctor did was to write to all the branch postmasters and have them arrange exactly with the different kinds of birds a time for them to start their yearly migrations—not just the second week in November, or anything like that—but an exact day and hour. Then by knowing how fast each kind of bird flies, he could calculate almost to a minute what time they should arrive at their destination. And if they were late in arriving, then he would know that bad weather had delayed them on the way or that they had put off their starting till storms died down.

The Doctor, the gull, One Eye, Dab-Dab, Cheapside, Speedy-the-Skimmer and Too-Too the mathematician put their heads together and discussed far into the night, working out a whole lot more arrangements and particulars for running a good weather bureau. And a few weeks later a second brand new notice board appeared on the walls of the Doctor's post office, beside the one for Outgoing and Incoming Mails.

The new notice board was marked at the top Weather Reports, and would read something like this:

The Green Herons were one day, three hours and nine minutes late in their arrival at Cape Horn from the Sandwich Islands. Wind coming south-southeast. Blustery weather can be expected along the west coast of Chili and light gales in the Antarctic Sea.

And then the land birds, particularly those that live on berries, were very helpful to the Doctor in telling him by letter if the Winter was going to be a hard one or not in their particular country. And he used to write to farmers all over the world, advising them whether they could expect a sharp frost, a wet Spring or a dry Summer—which, of course, helped them in their farming tremendously.

And then the Fantippans, who so far had been very timid about going far out to sea on account of storms, now that they had a good weather bureau and knew what weather to expect, began building larger sailboats, instead of their little frail canoes. And they became what is called a mercantile nation, traded up and down the shores of West Africa, and even went as far south as the Cape of Good Hope and entered the Indian Ocean to traffic in goods with people of foreign lands.

This made the kingdom of Fantippo much richer and more important than it had been before, of course. And a large grant of money was given by the King to the Foreign Mails post office, which was used by the Doctor in making the houseboat better and bigger.

And soon the No-Man's-Land Weather Bureau began to get known abroad. The farmers in England, who had received such good weather reports by letter from the Doctor, went up to London and told the government that their own reports were no good, that a certain John Dolittle, M.D., was writing them much better reports from some place in Africa.

And the government got quite worked up about it. And they sent the Royal Meteorologist, an old gray-haired weather man, down to Fantippo to see how the Doctor was doing it.

"John Dolittle saw him snooping around the post office"

John Dolittle saw him one day, snooping around the post office, looking at the notice boards and trying to find out things. But he found out nothing. And when he got back to England he said to the government:

"He hasn't any new instruments at all. The man's a fake. All he has down there is an old barge and a whole lot of messy birds flying around."

[CHAPTER VII]
TEACHING BY MAIL

The educational side of the Doctor's post office was a very important one and it grew all the time. As he had said to the Skimmer at the beginning, as soon as the birds and animals realized the helpfulness of having a post office of their own they used it more and more.

And, of course, as Speedy had foretold, they wrote most of their letters to the Doctor. Soon the poor man was swamped with mail, asking for medical advice. The Esquimaux sleigh dogs wrote all the way from the Arctic Continent to know what they should do about their hair falling out. Hair—which was all the poor creatures had to keep them warm against the Polar winds—was, of course, very important to them. And John Dolittle spent a whole Saturday and Sunday experimenting with hair tonics on Jip to find a way to cure their trouble. Jip was very patient about it, knowing that the Doctor was doing it for the good of his fellow dogs. And he did not grumble—although he did mention to Dab-Dab that he felt like a chemist's shop from all the different hair oils the Doctor had used on him. He said they ruined his keen nose entirely for two weeks, so he couldn't smell straight.

"The Doctor experimented on Jip"

And besides the letters asking for medical advice, the Doctor got all sorts of requests from animals all over the world for information about food for their babies, nesting materials and a thousand other things. In their new thirst for education the animals asked all manner of questions, some of which neither the Doctor nor anybody else could answer: What were the stars made of? Why did the tide rise and fall—and could it be stopped?

Then, in order to deal with this wide demand for information which had been brought about by his post office, John Dolittle started, for the first time in history, courses by correspondence for animals.

And he had printed forms made, called "Things a Young Rabbit Should Know," "The Care of Feet in Frosty Weather," etc., etc. These he sent out by mail in thousands.

And then because so many letters were written him about good manners and proper behavior, he wrote a "Book of Etiquette for Animals." It is still a very famous work, though copies of it are rare now. But when he wrote it the Doctor printed a first edition of fifty thousand copies and sent them all out by mail in one week. It was at this time, too, that he wrote and circulated another very well-known book of his called "One-Act Plays for Penguins."

But, alas! instead of making the number of letters he had to answer less, the Doctor found that by sending out books of information he increased a hundredfold the already enormous mail he had to attend to.

This is a letter he received from a pig in Patagonia:

"Dear Doctor—I have read your 'Book of Etiquette for Animals' and liked it very much. I am shortly to be married. Would it be proper for me to ask the guests to bring turnips to my wedding, instead of flowers?

"In introducing one well-bred pig to another should you say 'Miss Virginia Ham, "meet" Mr. Frank Footer,' or 'Get acquainted?'

"Yours truly,
"Bertha Bacon.

"P. S.—I have always worn my engagement ring in my nose. Is this the right place?"

And the Doctor wrote back:

"Dear Bertha—In introducing one pig to another I would avoid using the word 'meet.' 'Get acquainted' is quite all right. Remember that the object of all etiquette and manners should be to make people comfortable—not uncomfortable.

"I think turnips at a wedding quite proper. You might ask the guests to leave the tops on. They will then look more like a bouquet.

"Sincerely yours,
"John Dolittle."

PART III

[CHAPTER I]
THE ANIMALS' MAGAZINE

The next thing I must tell you about is the Prize Story Competition: The fame of the Puddleby fireside-circle, where the Doctor had amused his pets with so many interesting tales, had become quite a famous institution. Too-Too had gossiped about it; Gub-Gub, Jip and the white mouse had boasted of it. (You see, they were always proud that they could say they were part of the great man's regular household.) And before long, through this new post office of their own, creatures all over the world were speaking of it and discussing it by letter. Next thing, the Doctor began to receive requests for stories by mail. He had become equally famous as an animal doctor, an animal educator and an animal author.

From the Far North letters came in by the dozen from polar bears and walruses and foxes asking that he send them some light entertaining reading as well as his medical pamphlets and books of etiquette. The winter nights (weeks and weeks long up there) grew frightfully monotonous, they said, after their own supply of stories had run out—because you couldn't possibly sleep all the time and something had to be done for amusement on the lonely ice-floes and in the dens and lairs beneath the blizzard-swept snow. For some time the Doctor was kept so busy with more serious things that he was unable to attend to it. But he kept it in mind until he should be able to think out the best way of dealing with the problem.

Now his pets, after the post office work got sort of settled and regular, often found it somewhat hard to amuse themselves in the evenings. One night they were all sitting around on the veranda of the houseboat wondering what game they could play when Jip suddenly said:

"I know what we can do—let's get the Doctor to tell us a story."

"Oh, you've heard all my stories," said the Doctor. "Why don't you play Hunt-the-Slipper?"

"The houseboat isn't big enough," said Dab-Dab. "Last time we played it Gub-Gub got stuck by the pushmi-pullyu's horns. You've got plenty of stories. Tell us one, Doctor—just a short one."

"Well, but what shall I tell you a story about?" asked John Dolittle.

"About a turnip field," said Gub-Gub.

"No, that won't do," said Jip. "Doctor, why don't you do what you did sometimes by the fire in Puddleby—turn your pockets out upon the table till you come to something that reminds you of a story—you remember?"

"All right," said the Doctor. "But——"

And then an idea came to him.

"Look here," he said: "You know I've been asked for stories by mail. The creatures around the North Pole wanted some light reading for the long winter nights. I'm going to start an animals' magazine for them. I'm calling it The Arctic Monthly. It will be sent by mail and be distributed by the Nova Zembla branch office. So far, so good. But the great problem is how to get sufficient stories and pictures and articles and things to fill a monthly magazine—no easy matter. Now listen, if I tell you animals a story to-night, you'll have to do something to help me with my new magazine. Every night when you want to amuse yourselves we'll take it in turns to tell a story. That will give us seven stories right away. There will be only one story printed each month—the rest of the magazine will be news of the day, a medical advice column, a babies' and mothers' page and odds and ends. Then we'll have a Prize Story Competition. The readers shall judge which is the best; and when they write to us here and tell us, we'll give the prize to the winner. What do you say?"

"What a splendid idea!" cried Gub-Gub. "I'll tell my story to-morrow night. I know a good one. Now go ahead, Doctor."

Then John Dolittle started turning his trousers pockets out onto the table to try and find something that reminded him of a story. It was certainly a wonderful collection of objects that he brought forth. There were pieces of string and pieces of wire, stub ends of pencils, pocket-knives with the blades broken, coat buttons, boot buttons, a magnifying glass, a compass and a corkscrew.

"It was certainly a wonderful collection of objects"

"There doesn't seem to be anything very hopeful there," said the Doctor.

"Try in your waistcoat pockets," said Too-Too. "They were always the most interesting. You haven't turned them out since you left Puddleby. There must be lots in them."

So the Doctor turned out his waistcoat pockets. These brought forth two watches (one that went and one that didn't), a measuring tape, a piece of cobbler's wax, a penny with a hole through it and a clinical thermometer.

"What's that?" asked Gub-Gub, pointing to the thermometer.

"That's for taking people's temperature with," said the Doctor. "Oh, that reminds me——"

"Of a story?" cried Too-Too.

"I knew it would," said Jip. "A thing like that must have a story to it. What's the name of the story, Doctor?"

"Well," said the Doctor, settling himself back in his chair, "I think I'll call this story 'The Invalids' Strike.'"

"What's a strike?" asked Gub-Gub.

"And what on earth is an invalid?" cried the pushmi-pullyu.

"A strike," said the Doctor, "is when people stop doing their own particular work in order to get somebody else to give them what they want. And an invalid—well, an invalid is a person who is always—er, more or less—ill."

"But what kind of work is invalids' work?" asked the white mouse.

"Their work is—er, staying—ill," said the Doctor. "Stop asking questions or I'll never get this story started."

"Wait a minute," said Gub-Gub. "My foot's gone to sleep."

"Oh, bother your feet!" cried Dab-Dab. "Let the Doctor get on with his story."

"Is it a good story?" asked Gub-Gub.

"Well," said the Doctor, "I'll tell it, and then you can decide for yourself. Stop fidgeting, now, and let me begin. It's getting late."

[CHAPTER II]
THE DOCTOR'S STORY

As soon as the Doctor had lit his pipe and got it well going he began:

"Many years ago, at the time I bought this thermometer, I was a very young doctor, full of hope, just starting out in business. I fancied myself a very good doctor, but I found that the rest of the world did not seem to think so. And for many months after I began I did not get a single patient. I had no one to try my new thermometer on. I tried it on myself quite often. But I was always so frightfully healthy I never had any temperature anyway. I tried to catch a cold. I didn't really want a cold, you understand, but I did want to make sure that my new thermometer worked. But I couldn't even catch a cold. I was very sad—healthy but sad.

"Well, about this time I met another young doctor who was in the same fix as myself—having no patients. Said he to me: 'I'll tell you what we'll do, let's start a sanitarium.'"

"What's a sanitarium?" asked Gub-Gub.

"A sanitarium," said the Doctor, "is a sort of mixture between a hospital and a hotel—where people stay who are invalids.... Well, I agreed to this idea. Then I and my young friend—his name was Phipps, Dr. Cornelius Q. Phipps—took a beautiful place way off in the country, and we furnished it with wheel chairs and hot-water bottles and ear trumpets and the things that invalids like. And very soon patients came to us in hundreds and our sanitarium was quite full up and my new thermometer was kept very busy. Of course, we made a lot of money, because all these people paid us well. And Phipps was very happy.

"But I was not so happy. I had noticed a peculiar thing: none of the invalids ever seemed to get well and go away. And finally I spoke of this to Phipps.

"'My dear Dolittle,' he answered, 'go away?—of course not! We don't want them to go away. We want them to stay here, so they'll keep on paying us.'

"'Phipps,' I said, 'I don't think that's honest. I became a doctor to cure people—not to pamper them.'

"Well, on this point we fell out and quarreled. I got very angry and told him I would not be his partner any longer—that I would pack up and go the following day. As I left his room, still very angry, I passed one of the invalids in his wheel chair. It was Sir Timothy Quisby, our most important and expensive patient. He asked me, as I passed, to take his temperature, as he thought he had a new fever. Now, I had never been able to find anything wrong with Sir Timothy and had decided that being an invalid was a sort of hobby with him. So, still, very angry, instead of taking his temperature, I said quite rudely: 'Oh, go to the Dickens!'

"It was Sir Timothy Quisby, our most expensive patient"

"Sir Timothy was furious. And, calling for Dr. Phipps, he demanded that I apologize. I said I wouldn't. Then Sir Timothy told Phipps that if I didn't he would start an invalids' strike. Phipps got terribly worried and implored me to apologize to this very special patient. I still refused.

"Then a peculiar thing happened. Sir Timothy, who had always so far seemed too weak to walk, got right out of his wheel chair and, waving his ear trumpet wildly, ran around all over the sanitarium, making speeches to the other invalids, saying how shamefully he had been treated and calling on them to strike for their rights.

"And they did strike—and no mistake. That night at dinner they refused to take their medicine—either before or after meals. Dr. Phipps argued with them, prayed them, implored them to behave like proper invalids and carry out their doctors' orders. But they wouldn't listen to him. They ate all the things they had been forbidden to eat, and after dinner those who had been ordered to go for a walk stayed at home, and those who had been ordered to stay quiet went outside and ran up and down the street. They finished the evening by having a pillow fight with their hot-water bottles, when they should have been in bed. The next morning they all packed their own trunks and left. And that was the end of our sanitarium.

"But the most peculiar thing of all was this: I found out afterward that every single one of those patients had got well! Getting out of their wheel chairs and going on strike had done them so much good they stopped being invalids altogether. As a sanitarium doctor, I suppose I was not a success—still, I don't know. Certainly I cured a great many more patients by going out of the sanitarium business than Phipps ever did by going into it."

[CHAPTER III]
GUB-GUB'S STORY

The next night, when they were again seated around the veranda after supper, the Doctor asked: "Now, who's going to tell us a story to-night? Didn't Gub-Gub say he had one for us?"

"Oh, don't let him tell one, Doctor," said Jip. "It's sure to be stupid."

"He isn't old enough to tell a good story," said Dab-Dab. "He hasn't had any experience."

"His only interest in life is food, anyway," said Too-Too. "Let someone else tell a story."

"No, now wait a minute," cried the Doctor. "Don't all be jumping on him this way. We were all young once. Let him tell his story. He may win the prize. Who knows? Come along, Gub-Gub. Tell us your story. What's the name of it?"

Gub-Gub fidgeted his feet, blushed up to the ears, and finally said:

"This is a kind of a crazy story. But it's a good one. It's—er—er—a Piggish Fairy Tale. It's called 'The Magic Cucumber.'"

"Gosh!" growled Jip.

"More food!" murmured Too-Too. "What did I tell you?"

"Tee-hee-hee!" tittered the white mouse.

"Go on, Gub-Gub," said the Doctor. "Don't take any notice of them. I'm listening."

"Once upon a time," Gub-Gub began, "a small pig went out into the forest with his father to dig for truffles. The father pig was a very clever truffle digger, and just by smelling the ground he could tell with great sureness the places where truffles were to be found. Well, this day they came upon a place beneath some big oak trees and they started digging. Presently, after the father pig had dug up an enormous truffle and they were both eating it, they heard, to their great astonishment, the sound of voices coming from the hole out of which they had dug the truffle.

"The father pig hurried away with his child because he did not like magic. But that night the baby pig, when his mother and father were fast asleep, crept out of his sty and went off into the woods. He wanted to find out the mystery of those voices coming from under the ground.

"So, reaching the hole where his father had dug up the truffle, he set to work digging for himself. He had not dug very long when the earth caved right in underneath him and he felt himself falling and falling and falling. At last he came to a stop, upside down in the middle of a dining table. The table was all set for dinner—and he had fallen into the soup. He looked about him and saw seated around the table many tiny little men, none of them more than half as big as himself and all a dark green in color.

"He had fallen into the soup"

"'Where am I?' asked the baby pig.

"'You're in the soup,' said the little men.

"The baby pig was at first terribly frightened. But when he saw how small were the men around him his fear left him. And before he got out of the soup tureen on the table he drank up all the soup. He then asked the little men who they might be. And they said:

"'We are The Cook Goblins. We live under the ground and we spend half our time inventing new things to eat and the other half in eating them. The noise you heard coming out of the hole was us singing our food hymns. We always sing food hymns whenever we are preparing particularly fine dishes.'

"'Good!' said the pig. 'I've come to the right place. Let us go on with the dinner.'

"But just as they were about to begin on the fish (the soup was already gone, you see), there was a great noise outside the dining hall and in rushed another lot of little men, a bright red in color. These were The Toadstool Sprites, ancient enemies of the Cook Goblins. A tremendous fight began, one side using toothpicks for spears and the other using nut crackers for clubs. The pig took the side of his friends the Cook Goblins, and, being as big as any two of the enemy put together, he soon had the Toadstool Sprites running for their lives.

"When the fight was over and the dining hall cleared the Cook Goblins were very grateful to the baby pig for his valuable assistance. They called him a conquering hero and, crowning him with a wreath of parsley, they invited him to the seat of honor at the dining table and went on with the meal.

"Never had the baby pig enjoyed a meal so much in all his life as he did that one. He found that the Cook Goblins, as well as inventing new and marvelously tasty dishes, had also thought out a lot of new things in the way of table furnishings. For instance, they served pin cushions with the fish. These were to stick your fishbones in, instead of leaving them to clutter up your plate. Pudding-fans were another of their novelties—fans for cooling off your pudding with, instead of blowing on it. Then they had cocoa-skin clothes lines—little toy clothes lines to hang the skin off your cocoa on, neatly. (You know what a nasty mess it makes draped over the rim of your cup.) And when the fruit came on, tennis racquets were handed around also. And if anyone at the other end of the table asked you for an apple, instead of going to all the work of handing down a heavy bowl of fruit, you just took an apple and served it at him like a tennis ball, and he would catch it at the other end of the table on the point of a fork.

"These things added a good deal of jolliness to the meal and some of them were very clever inventions. Why, they even had a speaking tube for things you are not allowed to mention at table."

"A speaking tube!" the white mouse interrupted. "How was it used? I don't understand."

"Well," said Gub-Gub, "you know how people are always telling you 'You mustn't speak about those things at table!' Well, the Cook Goblins had a speaking tube in the wall which led, at the other end, to the open air outside. And whenever you wanted to talk about any of the things forbidden at table you left the table and went and said it into the speaking tube; then you came back to your seat. It was a very great invention.... Well, as I was saying, the baby pig enjoyed himself tremendously. And when the meal was over he said he must be going back because he wanted to get into the sty before his mother and father should be awake.

"The Cook Goblins were sorry to see him go. And as a farewell present in return for the help he had given them against their enemies, they gave him the Magic Cucumber. Now, this cucumber, if you cut off even the smallest part of it and planted it, would grow immediately into a whole field of any fruit or vegetable you wished. All you had to do was to say the name of the vegetable you wanted. The baby pig thanked the Cook Goblins, kissed them all goodby and went home.

"He found his mother and father still asleep when he got back. So after carefully hiding his Magic Cucumber under the floor of the cow barn, he crept into the sty and went fast asleep.

"Now, it happened that a few days later a neighboring king made war upon the king that owned the country where the pig family lived. Things went very badly for the pigs' king, and, seeing that the enemy were close at hand, he gave orders that all cattle and farm animals and people should be brought inside the castle walls. The pig family was also driven into the castle grounds. But before he left, the baby pig went and bit off a piece of his Magic Cucumber and took it along with him.

"Soon after, the enemy's army closed about the castle and tried to storm it. Then for many weeks they remained there, knowing that sooner or later the king and the people in the castle would run short of food and have to give in.

"Now, it happened that the queen had noticed the baby pig within the castle grounds and, being a princess of Irish blood, she took a great fancy to him and had a piece of green ribbon tied about his neck and made a regular pet of him, much to the disgust of her husband, the king.

"She made a regular pet of him"

"Well, the fourth week after the enemy came the food in the castle was all gone and the king gave orders that the pigs must be eaten. The queen raised a great outcry and begged that her pet should be spared. But the king was very firm.

"'My soldiers are starving,' said he. 'Your pet, Madam, must be turned into sausages.'

"Then the baby pig saw that the time to use the goblins' magic gift had come. And, rushing out into the castle garden, he dug a hole and planted his piece of cucumber right in the middle of the king's best rosebed.

"'Parsnips!' he grunted, as he filled in the hole. 'May they blossom acres wide!'

"And, sure enough, he had hardly said the words before all over the king's garden parsnips began springing up thick and fast. Even the gravel walks were covered with them.

"Then the king and his army had plenty of food and, growing strong on the nutritious parsnips, they sallied forth from the castle, smote the enemy, hip and thigh, and put them to flight.

"And the queen was allowed to keep her pet pig, which rejoiced her kind heart greatly—she being of Irish blood royal. And he became a great hero at the court and was given a sty studded with jewels in the centre of the castle garden—on the very spot where he had planted the Magic Cucumber. And they all lived happily ever after. And that is the end of the Piggish Fairy Tale."

[CHAPTER IV]
DAB-DAB'S STORY

The animals now began to look forward to the evening story-telling—the way people do to regular habits that are pleasant. And for the next night they arranged among themselves before-hand that it should be Dab-Dab's turn to tell a tale.

After they were all seated on the veranda the housekeeper preened her feathers and in a very dignified voice began:

"On the outskirts of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh there lives a farmer who swears to this day that his cat can understand every word he says. It isn't true, but both the farmer and his wife think it is. And I am now going to tell you how they came to get that idea.

"Once when the Doctor was away in Scotland, looking for fossils, he left me behind to take charge of the house. The old horse in the stable complained to me one night that the rats were eating up all his corn. While I was walking around the stable, trying to think out what I should do about it I spied an enormous white Persian cat stalking about the premises. Now, I myself have no love for cats. For one thing, they eat ducklings, and for another, they always seem to me sort of sneaky things. So I ordered this one to get off the Doctor's property. To my surprise, she behaved very politely—said she didn't know she was trespassing and turned to leave. Then I felt sort of guilty, knowing the Doctor liked to be hospitable to every kind of animal, and, after all, the cat wasn't doing any harm there. So I overtook her and told her that if she didn't kill anything on the place she could come and go as she pleased.

"Well, we got chatting, the way people do, and I found out that the cat lived at a farmer's house about a quarter of a mile down the Oxenthorpe Road. Then I walked part of the way home with her, still chatting, and I found that she was a very agreeable individual. I told her about the rats in the stable and the difficulty I had in making them behave, because the Doctor wouldn't allow any one to kill them. And she said, if I wished, she'd sleep in the stable a few nights and the rats would probably leave as soon as they smelled her around.

"This she did, and the results were excellent. The rats departed in a body and the old horse's corn-bin was left undisturbed. Then she disappeared and for several nights I saw nothing of her. So one evening I thought it would be only decent of me to call at her farm down the Oxenthorpe Road, to thank her.

"I went to her farm and found her in the farm-yard. I thanked her for what she had done and asked her why she hadn't been around to my place of late.

"'I've just had kittens,' she said. 'Six—and I haven't been able to leave them a moment. They are in the farmer's parlor now. Come in and I'll show them to you.'

"So in we went. And on the parlor floor, in a round basket, there were six of the prettiest kittens you ever saw. While we were looking at them we heard the farmer and his wife coming downstairs. So, thinking they might not like to have a duck in the parlor (some folks are so snobbish and pernickety, you know—not like the Doctor), I hid myself behind a closet door just as the farmer and his wife came into the room.

"They leaned over the basket of kittens, stroked the white cat and started talking. Now, the cat didn't understand what they said, of course. But I, being round the Doctor so much and discussing with him the differences between duck grammar and people's grammar, understood every word they uttered.

"And this is what I heard the farmer say to his wife: 'We'll keep the black and white kitten, Liza. I'll drown the other five to-morrow morning. Won't never do to have all them cats running around the place.' His grammar was atrocious.

"'We'll keep the black and white one, Liza'"

"As soon as they had gone I came out of the closet and I said to the white cat: 'I shall expect you to bring up these kittens to leave ducklings alone. Now listen: To-night, after the farmer and his wife are in bed, take all your kittens except the black and white one, and hide them in the attic. The farmer means to drown them and is going to keep only one.'

"The cat did as I bade her. And next morning, when the farmer came to take the kittens away, he found only the black and white one—the one he meant to keep. He could not understand it. Some weeks later, however, when the farmer's wife was Spring cleaning, she came upon the others in the attic, where the mother cat had hidden them and nursed them secretly. But they were now grown big enough to escape through the window and they went off to find new homes for themselves.

"And that is why to this day that farmer and his wife swear their cat can understand English, because, they say, she must have heard them when they were talking over the basket. And whenever she's in the room and they are gossiping about the neighbors, they always speak in whispers, lest she overhear. But between you and me, she doesn't really understand a single word they say."

[CHAPTER V]
THE WHITE MOUSE'S STORY

"Who's turn is it to give us a story now?" asked the Doctor, when the supper things were cleared away the following evening.

"I think the white mouse ought to tell us one," said Jip.

"Very well," said the white mouse. "I will tell you one of the days of my youth. The Doctor knows this story, but the rest of you have never heard it."

And smoothing back his white whiskers and curling his pink tail snugly about his small, sleek body, he blinked his eyes twice and began:

"When I was born I was one of seven twins. But all my brothers and sisters were ordinary mouse color and I alone out of the whole family was white. My color worried my mother and father a great deal. They said I was so conspicuous and would certainly, as soon as I left the nest, get caught by the first owl or cat that came along.

"We were city folk, my family were—and proud of it. We lived under the floor of a miller's shop. Across the street from our place was a butcher's shop, and next door to us was a dyer's—where they dyed cloth different colors before it went to the tailor's to be made into suits.

"Now, when we children grew up big enough to go off for ourselves our parents gave us all sorts of careful instructions about escaping cats and ferrets and weasels and dogs. But over poor me they shook their heads. They really felt that there was not much hope of my leading a peaceful life with white fur that could be seen a mile off.

"Well, they were quite right. My color got me into trouble the first week that I set out to seek my fortune—but not in the way they thought it would. The son of the miller who owned the shop where we lived found me one morning in a bin of oats.

"'Ah, hah!' he cried. 'A white mouse! The very thing I've been wanting!'

"And he caught me in a fishing net and put me in a cage, to keep as a pet.

"I was very sad at first. But after a while I got sort of used to the life. The boy—he was only eight years old—treated me kindly and fed me regularly each day. I grew almost fond of the funny, snub-nosed lad and became so tame that he would let me out of my cage sometimes and I would run up and down his sleeve. But I never got a chance to escape.

"After some months I began to grow weary of the silly life I was leading. And then, too, the wild mice were so mean to me. They used to come around at night and point at me through the wire of my cage, saying:

"'Look at the tame white mouse! Tee-hee-hee! A plaything for children! Good little mousey! Come and have 'ims facey washed!' The stupid little idiots!