Ginger Pye (19 page)

"Sure. Looked that way, anyway. And anyway we didn't have to call the Fire Department, did we? No," said Sam, answering his own question, a way he had of doing. He'd say, "Nice day, isn't it?" And then, because he was always in a hurry, he'd answer for you. "Fine," he'd say and stride on up the street with those long legs of his.

They halfway circled East Rock and then they started up the pleasant, gradual, green-wooded slope. About halfway up there was rock again, not as sheer as the face had been and different colored—dark. And then, there at last, were the Giant Steps!

The Giant Steps were not exactly as Rachel had imagined they were going to be. She had thought they were going to be one enormous flight of huge stairs, made of marble most likely, leading straight up as far and high as you could see. These Giant Steps, however, were tremendous boulders that formed natural steps, though here and there other flat rocks had been pushed into place by man. Railings, also, had been built at the most dangerous twists and turnings. The steps were very exciting and Rachel clambered right up them like a mountain goat and she was not frightened at all. They were wonderful steps.

When they reached the top they were on a lovely greensward in the middle of which was a high monument. Tall Sam Doody took some pictures of it and also of a cannon that was there. He even took one picture of Jerry sitting on top of the cannon and one of Rachel standing at the base of the monument. Then they all admired the breathtaking view of the city. They could see the water, bluer than the sky, sparkling in the distance and, across the water, they could see Cranbury.

"I see the church on the Green," screamed Rachel excitedly. "Imagine seeing that far!"

"I see Long Island!" yelled Jerry.

After this they strolled down the other side of the Rock until they came to the little zoo, and they saw the bear and the raccoons. They also saw the gnu. But since they did not know how to pronounce this they called it the GNU. Sam Doody took some more pictures here. One of these should win, perhaps the one of the GNU.

By this time it was getting late and they were tired. They returned to the top of the Rock again and then down the Giant Steps, and finally, there they were, back at Sam Doody's jalopy again. Jerry had to rush back for his rocks he had almost forgotten and then off they went.

Sam Doody rode his jalopy with great style, one long leg flung carelessly over the door and dangling outside. And in great style he drove up to a corner drugstore and he treated all of them to a fifteen-cent ice cream soda. All together this cost him forty-five cents. Rachel and Jerry appreciated this further generosity on Sam Doody's part, for it would take dusting one half of the pews to earn that much money, and they knew how hard that was.

Sam dismissed their thanks with his good-natured shrug and grinned. "It's nothing," he assured them. He had got some very good pictures, he thought, and he hoped to get first prize with one of them. First prize was fifteen dollars. But if he did not get that, he hoped at least to get honorable mention which brought in fame but no money. Sort of on the order of Mr. Pye, reflected Rachel dreamily and listening lovingly to the loud breathing Sam Doody was doing through his mouth. It had been a comforting sound to hear, up on the high Rock.

"No sign of Ginger yet?" asked Sam Doody.

Jerry shook his head. Suddenly he remembered the beautiful eyes of Ginger pup, and his soft ears, and the funny sideways walk he had, and he gulped and looked down at his empty soda glass.

Once Jerry had explored East Rock he could see that it was not a place where he could expect to find Ginger. But he had kept his eyes and ears open anyway. Besides, he just had to explore everywhere for Ginger. He might crop up in the most unlikely place. Now, if someone would take them up West Rock someday soon, they would have been everywhere, he thought.

Usually when the whole Pye family went on a picnic they went up Shingle Hill, or, if the picnic were to be a really long day's outing with a trolley ride involved first, they went up the Sleeping Giant. Today, however, the Pyes were going up West Rock where they had never been before.

West Rock was the twin of East Rock, on the other side of the city. West Rock did not have Giant Steps going up it, nor did it have a monument, but somewhere on top it had a famous cave known as Judges Cave. The Cave was in history. After the three judges, Whalley, Dixwell, and Goffe had condemned Charles the First to be beheaded, they had escaped to this country and two of them, Colonel Whalley and Colonel Goffe, had hidden from the king's soldiers for three years in this cave on the top of West Rock. So the cave was known now as Judges Cave.

Both Jerry and Rachel knew plenty about caves from reading
Tom Sawyer
and pirate books. They knew what to expect from caves. To have sheltered the regicides for three years Judges Cave must be the greatest cave of all, they thought.

Jerry had an idea that Ginger might be located up there in Judges Cave. If, for instance, Ginger had been stolen by a band of counterfeiters, this band might be hiding, with Ginger as a watchdog, in Judges Cave. The more Jerry thought about this possibility the more excited he became. Last night, in the funny paper he had drawn for Rachel—some
times, instead of both of them working on the same funny paper and their hands getting in each other's way, he drew one for her and she drew one for him—he had shown the yellow-hat band of counterfeiters lurking at the entrance of the great cave with him and Dick and Duke stealing up for a surprise attack and Ginger pup cooperating by not barking and giving them away, hardly able to keep from wagging his tail, though he was so happy to smell freedom near.

To think that all the while Jerry and Rachel had been searching Cranbury for Ginger he might have been being held captive by the band of counterfeiters in the cave on West Rock. That was what Jerry was thinking as he drew his funny paper. Had either he or Rachel ever seen Judges Cave, he would have realized how impossible this would be. However, neither he nor she had. Today they were going to see it though, at least so they thought.

On this expedition Mr. Pye, and not Sam Doody, was going to be the leader. It was quite a party—Mr. and Mrs. Pye, Jerry, Rachel, Uncle Bennie, Gramma (not Grampa, he had to tune the church organ), Dick Badger, and Duke. If Ginger had been there, then the family would have been complete, except of course for Grampa and for Gracie-the-cat who preferred sleep to seeing the world anyway.

When Ginger had been there, Gracie-the-cat had acted like a young kitten again, romping with him, and enjoying the attention he gave her of biting her fleas for her, going over her with his sharp little teeth from head to toe several times a day. This was most refreshing to Gracie. But since the disappearance of Ginger Pye, Gracie did practically nothing but sleep. She frequently stayed in nights now. She snoozed, day in, day out. She did not mind in the least when all the Pyes went off for Judges Cave, leaving her all by herself in the high house.

The trolley car that the Pyes took was practically empty and this was lucky since they were such a big party, what with lunch baskets, blankets, Duke, and all. The little old motorman did not like the idea of Duke being on his trolley. He didn't like any dog on his trolley, but a huge one on the order of Duke was worst of all.

Mr. Pye said persuasively to the motorman, "Well, of course, if this was the rush hour, we would not be doing such a thing. But since it is not the rush hour, what does it matter?"

So the motorman said all right and then he clamped his tight little jaws together, he was so disapproving. Then he said that, rush hour or not, someone must stand in the rear of the trolley and keep the big hound dog there.

This pleased Dick anyway for it is more interesting on a trolley to stand, either in the front or the back, than to sit. Of course Jerry stood back there with Dick and Duke. But Rachel, happy at the idea of going on a cave-and-bird trip with Papa, sat between him and Uncle Bennie, whenever Uncle Bennie was sitting, that is. A great deal of the time Uncle Bennie was racing back and forth and up and
down the trolley. The conductor said he was worse than Duke.

"He does not nip or bite," said Papa. And he said that Uncle Bennie was hardly disturbing anyone since there was only one other passenger besides the Pyes on this trolley, at present anyway.

This other passenger was a Mr. Tuttle, the tall short man who, sitting in his pew in church, looked as tall as Judge Ball and Sam Doody, but who, the minute he stood up, was shorter than Papa, who was of medium height. Now, on the trolley, this Mr. Tuttle was lost in thought, his hands cupped on his chin, his face plastered to the window. He did not even change his thoughtful expression when Uncle Bennie careened merrily against his knees.

Everyone in Cranbury knew Mr. Tuttle. With silent wags of the head and a few words formed silently with their lips, all the Pye picnickers agreed that Mr. Tuttle's present pose, that of being lost in thought, was a most unusual one for him. Ordinarily, he had an expression best described as "alerted."

Mr. Tuttle was just the opposite of the unsavory character, for Mr. Tuttle was a doer of good deeds. Watching him now, Rachel thought of some of the good deeds she knew of that he had done and was famous for. Once, during the Christmas pageant in
church, the wings of one of the little angels caught on fire from a candle. Mr. Tuttle saw this before anyone else was even aware of the danger. He rushed up the aisle, though this was church and a solemn festival was going on, and he flung his overcoat over the little angel, putting the fire out with no harm done at all except for a singed wing. Quick thinking of this sort was what this good character was noted for.

On trolleys, even when they were empty and he could choose from plenty of good places to sit, Mr. Tuttle never sat down at all. He always stood at the back of the trolley watching that boys did not jump on the cow fender and hurt themselves. Also, from his regular spot in the rear, he could open the window, reach out and adjust the trolley if it came off the wire, so that the tired motorman would not have to get up and do this. He also knew where all the switches along the route were that might have to be changed. At these points he was right up front then, waiting to get out the front door, switch stick in hand, to make the adjustment. He did this, getting from the back to the front of the car, with no fuss at all or pushing people aside. It was as though he floated through the air to the spot where he was most needed.

These were the reasons why it was so surprising to the Pyes that he was sitting now in an ordinary seat. The Pyes thought it was a wonder that the Second Avenue trolley line did not put him on the payroll. But he would not have liked this for he did things out of the kindness of his heart and for no other reason.

Now, suddenly, the tall short man stood up. He raced to the front of the car and ordered the motorman to stop. No one would dream of disobeying Mr. Tuttle, even a motorman, and he stopped the car. All the Pyes waited curiously for developments, imagining Mr. Tuttle had seen a dog fight, perhaps, and was bent on separating the dogs.