Beautiful Joe by Marshall Saunders (read people like a book TXT) 📖

edge, and said

they would have something to drink before setting to work. They got out

some of the bottles from the wagon, and began to take long drinks from

them. Then they got quarrelsome and mischievous, and seemed to forget

all about their shooting.

 

"One of them proposed to have some fun with the dogs. They tied us both

to a tree, and throwing a stick in the water, told us to get it. Of

course we struggled and tried to get free, and chafed our necks with the

rope.

 

"After a time one of them began to swear at me, and say that he believed

I was gun-shy. He staggered to the wagon and got out his fowling piece,

and said he was going to try me.

 

"He loaded it, went to a little distance, and was going to fire, when

the young man who owned Bob said he wasn't going to have his dog's legs

shot off, and coming up he unfastened him and took him away. You can

imagine my feelings, as I stood there tied to the tree, with that

stranger pointing his gun directly at me. He fired close to me a number

of times--over my head and under my body. The earth was cut up all

around me. I was terribly frightened, and howled and begged to be freed.

 

"The other young men, who were sitting laughing at me, thought it such

good fun that they got their guns, too. I never wish to spend such a

terrible hour again. I was sure they would kill me. I dare say they

would have done so, for they were all quite drunk by this time, if

something had not happened.

 

"Poor Bob, who was almost as frightened as I was, and who lay shivering

under the wagon, was killed by a shot by his own master, whose hand was

the most unsteady of all. He gave one loud howl, kicked convulsively,

then turned over on his side and lay quite still. It sobered them all.

They ran up to him, but he was quite dead. They sat for a while quite

silent, then they threw the rest of the bottles into the lake, dug a

shallow grave for Bob, and putting me in the wagon drove slowly back to

town. They were not bad young men. I don't think they meant to hurt me,

or to kill Bob. It was the nasty stuff in the bottles that took away

their reason.

 

"I was never the same dog again. I was quite deaf in my right ear, and

though I strove against it, I was so terribly afraid of even the sight

of a gun that I would run and hide myself whenever one was shown to me.

My master was very angry with those young men, and it seemed as if he

could not bear the sight of me. One day he took me very kindly and

brought me here, and asked Mr. Morris if he did not want a good-natured

dog to play with the children.

 

"I have a happy home here and I love the Morris boys; but I often wish

that I could keep from putting my tail between my legs and running home

every time I hear the sound of a gun."

 

"Never mind that, Jim," I said. "You should not fret over a thing for

which you are not to blame. I am sure you must be glad for one reason

that you have left your old life."

 

"What is that?" he said.

 

"On account of the birds. You know Miss Laura thinks it is wrong to kill

the pretty creatures that fly about the woods."

 

"So it is," he said, "unless one kills them at once. I have often felt

angry with men for only-half killing a bird. I hated to pick up the

little, warm body, and see the bright eye looking so reproachfully at

me, and feel the flutter of life. We animals, or rather the most of us,

kill mercifully. It is only human beings who butcher their prey, and

seem, some of them, to rejoice in their agony. I used to be eager to

kill birds and rabbits, but I did not want to keep them before me long

after they were dead. I often stop in the street and look up at fine

ladies' bonnets, and wonder how they can wear little dead birds in such

dreadful positions. Some of them have their heads twisted under their

wings and over their shoulders, and looking toward their tails, and

their eyes are so horrible that I wish I could take those ladies into

the woods and let them see how easy and pretty a live bird is, and how

unlike the stuffed creatures they wear. Have you ever had a good run in

the woods, Joe?"

 

"No, never," I said.

 

"Some day I will take you, and now it is late and I must go to bed. Are

you going to sleep in the kennel with me, or in the stable?"

 

"I think I will sleep with you, Jim. Dogs like company, you know, as

well as human beings." I curled up in the straw beside him, and soon we

were fast asleep.

 

I have known a good many dogs, but I don't think I ever saw such a good

one as Jim. He was gentle and kind, and so sensitive that a hard word

hurt him more than a blow. He was a great pet with Mrs. Morris, and as

he had been so well trained, he was able to make himself very useful to

her.

 

When she went shopping, he often carried a parcel in his mouth for her.

He would never drop it nor leave it anywhere. One day, she dropped her

purse without knowing it, and Jim picked it up, and brought it home in

his mouth. She did not notice him, for he always walked behind her. When

she got to her own door, she missed the purse, and turning around saw it

in Jim's mouth.

 

Another day, a lady gave Jack Morris a canary cage as a present for

Carl. He was bringing it home, when one of the little seed boxes fell

out. Jim picked it up and carried it a long way, before Jack discovered

it.

 

 

 

 

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

CHAPTER IX (THE PARROT BELLA)

I often used to hear the Morrises speak about vessels that ran between

Fairport and a place called the West Indies, carrying cargoes of lumber

and fish, and bringing home molasses, spices, fruit, and other things.

On one of these vessels, called the "Mary Jane," was a cabin boy, who

was a friend of the Morris boys, and often brought them presents.

 

One day, after I had been with the Morrises for some months, this boy

arrived at the house with a bunch of green bananas in one hand, and a

parrot in the other. The boys were delighted with the parrot, and called

their mother to see what a pretty bird she was.

 

Mrs. Morris seemed very much touched by the boy's thoughtfulness in

bringing a present such a long distance to her boys, and thanked him

warmly. The cabin boy became very shy, and all he could say was, "Go

way!" over and over again, in a very awkward manner.

 

Mrs. Morris smiled, and left him with the boys.

 

I think that she thought he would be more comfortable with them.

 

Jack put me up on the table to look at the parrot. The boy held her by a

string tied around one of her legs. She was a gray parrot with a few red

feathers in her tail, and she had bright eyes, and a very knowing air.

 

"The boy said he had been careful to buy a young one that could not

speak, for he knew the Morris boys would not want one chattering foreign

gibberish, nor yet one that would swear. He had kept her in his bunk in

the ship, and had spent all his leisure time in teaching her to talk.

Then he looked at her anxiously, and said, "Show off now, can't ye?"

 

"I didn't know what he meant by all this, until afterward. I had never

heard of such a thing as birds talking. I stood on the table staring

hard at her, and she stared hard at me. I was just thinking that I would

not like to have her sharp little beak fastened in my skin, when I heard

some one say, "Beautiful Joe." The voice seemed to come from the room,

but I knew all the voices there, and this was one I had never heard

before, so I thought I must be mistaken, and it was some one in the

hall. I struggled to get away from Jack to run and see who it was. But

he held me fast, and laughed with all his might, I looked at the other

boys and they were laughing, too. Presently, I heard again, "Beautiful

Joe, Beautiful Joe." The sound was close by, and yet it did not come

from the cabin boy, for he was all doubled up laughing, his face as red

as a beet.

 

"It's the parrot, Joe!" cried Ned. "Look at her, you gaby." I did look

at her, and with her head on one side, and the sauciest air in the

world, she was saying: "Beau-ti-ful Joe, Beau-ti-ful Joe!"

 

I had never heard a bird talk before, and I felt so sheepish that I

tried to get down and hide myself under the table. Then she began to

laugh at me. "Ha, ha, ha, good dog--sic 'em, boy. Rats, rats!

Beau-ti-ful Joe, Beau-ti-ful Joe," she cried, rattling off the words as

fast as she could.

 

I never felt so queer before in my life, and the boys were just roaring

with delight at my puzzled face. Then the parrot began calling for Jim:

"Where's Jim, where's good old Jim? Poor old dog. Give him a bone."

 

The boys brought Jim in the parlor, and when he heard her funny, little,

cracked voice calling him, he nearly went crazy: "Jimmy, Jimmy, James

Augustus!" she said, which was Jim's long name.

 

He made a dash out of the room, and the boys screamed so that Mr. Morris

came down from his study to see what the noise meant. As soon as the

parrot saw him, she would not utter another word. The boys told him

though what she had been saying, and he seemed much amused to think that

the cabin boy should have remembered so many sayings his boys made use

of, and taught them to the parrot. "Clever Polly," he said, kindly;

"good Polly."

 

The cabin boy looked at him shyly, and Jack, who was a very sharp boy,

said quickly, "Is not that what you call her, Henry?"

 

"No," said the boy; "I call her Bell, short for Bellzebub."

 

"I beg your pardon," said Jack, very politely.

 

"Bell--short for Bellzebub," repeated the boy. "Ye see, I thought ye'd

like a name from the Bible, bein' a minister's sons. I hadn't my Bible

with me on this cruise, savin' yer presence, an' I couldn't think of any

girls' names out of it, but Eve or Queen of Sheba, an' they didn't seem

very fit, so I asked one of me mates, an' he says, for his part he

guessed Bellzebub was as pretty a girl's name as any, so I guv her that.

'Twould 'a been better to let you name her, but ye see 'twouldn't 'a

been handy not to call her somethin', where I was teachin' her every

day."

 

Jack turned away and walked to the window, his face a deep scarlet. I

heard him mutter, "Beelzebub, prince of devils," so I suppose the cabin

boy had given his bird a bad name.

 

Mr. Morris looked kindly at the cabin boy. "Do you ever call the parrot

by her whole name?"

 

"No, sir," he replied; "I always give her Bell, but she calls herself

Bella."

 

"Bella," repeated Mr. Morris; "that is a very pretty name. If you keep

her, boys, I think you