Michael, Brother of Jerry

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Number Eighteen was a big compartment or cage in the dog row, largeenough with due comfort for a dozen Irish terriers like Michael. ForHarris Collins was scientific. Dogs on vacation, boarding at theCedarwild Animal School, were given every opportunity to recuperate fromthe hardships and wear and tear of from six months to a year and more onthe road. It was for this reason that the school was so popular aboarding-place for performing animals when the owners were on vacation orout of "time." Harris Collins kept his animals clean and comfortable andguarded from germ diseases. In short, he renovated them against theirnext trips out on vaudeville time or circus engagement.

  To the left of Michael, in Number Seventeen, were five grotesquelyclipped French poodles. Michael could not see them, save when he wasbeing taken out or brought back, but he could smell them and hear them,and, in his loneliness, he even started a feud of snarling bickeringnesswith Pedro, the biggest of them who acted as clown in their turn. Theywere aristocrats among performing animals, and Michael's feud with Pedrowas not so much real as play-acted. Had he and Pedro been broughttogether they would have made friends in no time. But through the slowmonotonous drag of the hours they developed a fictitious excitement andinterest in mouthing their quarrel which each knew in his heart of heartswas no quarrel at all.

  In Number Nineteen, on Michael's right, was a sad and tragic company.They were mongrels, kept spotlessly and germicidally clean, who wereunattached and untrained. They composed a sort of reserve of rawmaterial, to be worked into established troupes when an extra one or asubstitute was needed. This meant the hell of the arena where thetraining went on. Also, in spare moments, Collins, or his assistants,were for ever trying them out with all manner of tricks in the quest ofspecial aptitudes on their parts. Thus, a mongrel semblance to a cookerspaniel of a dog was tried out for several days as a pony-rider who wouldleap through paper hoops from the pony's back, and return upon the backagain. After several falls and painful injuries, it was rejected for thefeat and tried out as a plate-balancer. Failing in this, it was madeinto a see-saw dog who, for the rest of the turn, filled into thebackground of a troupe of twenty dogs.

  Number Nineteen was a place of perpetual quarrelling and pain. Dogs,hurt in the training, licked their wounds, and moaned, or howled, or wereirritable to excess on the slightest provocation. Always, when a new dogentered--and this was a regular happening, for others were continuallybeing taken away to hit the road--the cage was vexed with quarrels andbattles, until the new dog, by fighting or by non resistance, hadcommanded or been taught its proper place.

  Michael ignored the denizens of Number Nineteen. They could sniff andsnarl belligerently across at him, but he took no notice, reserving hiscompanionship for the play-acted and perennial quarrel with Pedro. Also,Michael was out in the arena more often and far longer hours than any ofthem.

  "Trust Harry not to make a mistake on a dog," was Collins's judgment; andconstantly he strove to find in Michael what had made Del Mar declare hima ten strike and the limit.

  Every indignity, in the attempt to find out, was wreaked upon Michael.They tried him at hurdle-jumping, at walking on forelegs, at pony-riding,at forward flips, and at clowning with other dogs. They tried him atwaltzing, all his legs cord-fastened and dragged and jerked and slackedunder him. They spiked his collar in some of the attempted tricks tokeep him from lurching from side to side or from falling forward orbackward. They used the whip and the rattan stick; and twisted his nose.They attempted to make a goal-keeper of him in a football game betweentwo teams of pain-driven and pain-bitten mongrels. And they dragged himup ladders to make him dive into a tank of water.

  Even they essayed to make him "loop the loop"--rushing him down aninclined trough at so high speed of his legs, accelerated by the slash ofwhips on his hindquarters, that, with such initial momentum, had he puthis heart and will into it, he could have successfully run up the insideof the loop, and across the inside of the top of it, back-downward, likea fly on the ceiling, and on and down and around and out of the loop. Buthe refused the will and the heart, and every time, when he was unable atthe beginning to leap sideways out of the inclined trough, he fellgrievously from the inside of the loop, bruising and injuring himself.

  "It isn't that I expect these things are what Harry had in mind," Collinswould say, for always he was training his assistants; "but that throughthem I may get a cue to his specially, whatever in God's name it is, thatpoor Harry must have known."

  Out of love, at the wish of his love-god, Steward, Michael would havestriven to learn these tricks and in most of them would have succeeded.But here at Cedarwild was no love, and his own thoroughbred nature madehim stubbornly refuse to do under compulsion what he would gladly havedone out of love. As a result, since Collins was no thoroughbred of aman, the clashes between them were for a time frequent and savage. Inthis fighting Michael quickly learned he had no chance. He was alwaysdoomed to defeat. He was beaten by stereotyped formula before he began.Never once could he get his teeth into Collins or Johnny. He was toocommon-sensed to keep up the battling in which he would surely havebroken his heart and his body and gone dumb mad. Instead, he retiredinto himself, became sullen, undemonstrative, and, though he nevercowered in defeat, and though he was always ready to snarl and bristlehis hair in advertisement that inside he was himself and unconquered, heno longer burst out in furious anger.

  After a time, scarcely ever trying him out on a new trick, the chain andJohnny were dispensed with, and with Collins he spent all Collins's hoursin the arena. He learned, by bitter lessons, that he must follow Collinsaround; and follow him he did, hating him perpetually and in his own bodyslowly and subtly poisoning himself by the juices of his glands that didnot secrete and flow in quite their normal way because of the pressureput upon them by his hatred.

  The effect of this, on his body, was not perceptible. This was becauseof his splendid constitution and health. Wherefore, since the effectmust be produced somewhere, it was his mind, or spirit, or nature, orbrain, or processes of consciousness, that received it. He drew more andmore within himself, became morose, and brooded much. All of which wasspiritually unhealthful. He, who had been so merry-hearted, even merrier-hearted than his brother Jerry, began to grow saturnine, and peevish, andill-tempered. He no longer experienced impulses to play, to romp around,to run about. His body became as quiet and controlled as his brain.Human convicts, in prisons, attain this quietude. He could stand by thehour, to heel to Collins, uninterested, infinitely bored, while Collinstortured some mongrel creature into the performance of a trick.

  And much of this torturing Michael witnessed. There were the greyhounds,the high-jumpers and wide-leapers. They were willing to do their best,but Collins and his assistants achieved the miracle, if miracle it may becalled, of making them do better than their best. Their best wasnatural. Their better than best was unnatural, and it killed some andshortened the lives of all. Rushed to the springboard and the leap,always, after the take-off, in mid-air, they had to encounter anassistant who stood underneath, an extraordinarily long buggy-whip inhand, and lashed them vigorously. This made them leap from thespringboard beyond their normal powers, hurting and straining andinjuring them in their desperate attempt to escape the whip-lash, to beatthe whip-lash in the air and be past ere it could catch their flyingflanks and sting them like a scorpion.

  "Never will a jumping dog jump his hardest," Collins told his assistants,"unless he's made to. That's your job. That's the difference betweenthe jumpers I turn out and some of these dub amateur-jumping outfits thatfail to make good even on the bush circuits."

  Collins continually taught. A graduate from his school, an assistant whoreceived from him a letter of recommendation, carried a high credentialof a sheepskin into the trained-animal world.

  "No dog walks naturally on its hind legs, much less on its forelegs,"Collins would say. "Dogs ain't built that way. _They have to be madeto_, that's all. That's the secret of all
animal training. They haveto. You've got to make them. That's your job. Make them. Anybody whocan't, can't make good in this factory. Put that in your pipe and smokeit, and get busy."

  Michael saw, without fully appreciating, the use of the spiked saddle onthe bucking mule. The mule was fat and good-natured the first day of itsappearance in the arena. It had been a pet mule in a family of childrenuntil Collins's keen eyes rested on it; and it had known only love andkindness and much laughter for its foolish mulishness. But Collins'seyes had read health, vigour, and long life, as well as laughableness ofappearance and action in the long-eared hybrid.

  Barney Barnato he was renamed that first day in the arena, when, also, hereceived the surprise of his life. He did not dream of the spike in thesaddle, nor, while the saddle was empty, did it press against him. Butthe moment Samuel Bacon, a negro tumbler, got into the saddle, the spikesank home. He knew about it and was prepared. But Barney, taken bysurprise, arched his back in the first buck he had ever made. It was soprodigious a buck that Collins eyes snapped with satisfaction, while Samlanded a dozen feet away in the sawdust.

  "Make good like that," Collins approved, "and when I sell the mule you'llgo along as part of the turn, or I miss my guess. And it will be someturn. There'll be at least two more like you, who'll have to be nervyand know how to fall. Get busy. Try him again."

  And Barney entered into the hell of education that later won hispurchaser more time than he could deliver over the best vaudevillecircuits in Canada and the United States. Day after day Barney took historture. Not for long did he carry the spiked saddle. Instead, bare-back, he received the negro on his back, and was spiked and set buckingjust the same; for the spike was now attached to Sam's palm by means ofleather straps. In the end, Barney became so "touchy" about his backthat he almost began bucking if a person as much as looked at it.Certainly, aware of the stab of pain, he started bucking, whirling, andkicking whenever the first signal was given of some one trying to mounthim.

  At the end of the fourth week, two other tumblers, white youths, beingsecured, the complete, builded turn was performed for the benefit of aslender, French-looking gentleman, with waxed moustaches. In the end hebought Barney, without haggling, at Collins's own terms and engaged Sammyand the other two tumblers as well. Collins staged the trick properly,as it would be staged in the theatre, even had ready and set up all thenecessary apparatus, and himself acted as ringmaster while theprospective purchaser looked on.

  Barney, fat as butter, humorous-looking, was led into the square of cloth-covered steel cables and cloth-covered steel uprights. The halter wasremoved and he was turned loose. Immediately he became restless, theears were laid back, and he was a picture of viciousness.

  "Remember one thing," Collins told the man who might buy. "If you buyhim, you'll be ringmaster, and you must never, never spike him. When hecomes to know that, you can always put your hands on him any time andcontrol him. He's good-natured at heart, and he's the gratefullest muleI've ever seen in the business. He's just got to love you, and hate theother three. And one warning: if he goes real bad and starts biting,you'll have to pull out his teeth and feed him soft mashes and crushedgrain that's steamed. I'll give you the recipe for the digestive dopeyou'll have to put in. Now--watch!"

  Collins stopped into the ring and caressed Barney, who responded in thebest of tempers and tried affectionately to nudge and shove past on theway out of the ropes to escape what he knew was coming.

  "See," Collins exposited. "He's got confidence in me. He trusts me. Heknows I've never spiked him and that I always save him in the end. I'mhis good Samaritan, and you'll have to be the same to him if you buyhim.--Now I'll give you your spiel. Of course, you can improve on it tosuit yourself."

  The master-trainer walked out of the rope square, stepped forward to animaginary line, and looked down and out and up as if he were gazing atthe pit of the orchestra beneath him, across at the body of the house,and up into the galleries.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," he addressed the sawdust emptiness before him asif it were a packed audience, "this is Barney Barnato, the biggest jokerof a mule ever born. He's as affectionate as a Newfoundland puppy--justwatch--"

  Stepping back to the ropes, Collins extended his hand across them,saying: "Come here, Barney, and show all these people who you love best."

  And Barney twinkled forward on his small hoofs, nozzled the open hand,and came closer, nozzling up the arm, nudging Collins's shoulders withhis nose, half-rearing as if to get across the ropes and embrace him.What he was really doing was begging and entreating Collins to take himaway out of the squared ring from the torment he knew awaited him.

  "That's what it means by never spiking him," Collins shot at the man withthe waxed moustaches, as he stepped forward to the imaginary line in thesawdust, above the imaginary pit of the orchestra, and addressed theimaginary house.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, Barney Barnato is a josher. He's got forty tricksup each of his four legs, and the man don't live that he'll let stick onbig back for sixty seconds. I'm telling you this in fair warning, beforeI make my proposition. Looks easy, doesn't it?--one minute, the sixtiethpart of an hour, to be precise, sixty seconds, to stick on the back of anaffectionate josher mule like Barney. Well, come on you boys and bronchoriders. To anybody who sticks on for one minute I shall immediately paythe sum of fifty dollars; for two whole, entire minutes, the sum of fivehundred dollars."

  This was the cue for Samuel Bacon, who advanced across the sawdust,awkward and grinning and embarrassed, and apparently was helped up to thestage by the extended hand of Collins.

  "Is your life insured?" Collins demanded.

  Sam shook his head and grinned.

  "Then what are you tackling this for?"

  "For the money," said Sam. "I jes' naturally needs it in my business."

  "What is your business?"

  "None of your business, mister." Here Sam grinned ingratiating apologyfor his impertinence and shuffled on his legs. "I might be investin' inlottery tickets, only I ain't. Do I get the money?--that's _our_business."

  "Sure you do," Collins replied. "When you earn it. Stand over there toone side and wait a moment.--Ladies and gentlemen, if you will forgivethe delay, I must ask for more volunteers.--Any more takers? Fiftydollars for sixty seconds. Almost a dollar a second . . . if you win.Better! I'll make it a dollar a second. Sixty dollars to the boy, man,woman, or girl who sticks on Barney's back for one minute. Come on,ladies. Remember this is the day of equal suffrage. Here's where youput it over on your husbands, brothers, sons, fathers, and grandfathers.Age is no limit.--Grandma, do I get you?" he uttered directly to whatmust have been a very elderly lady in a near front row.--"You see," (tothe prospective buyer), "I've got the entire patter for you. You coulddo it with two rehearsals, and you can do them right here, free ofcharge, part of the purchase."

  The next two tumblers crossed the sawdust and were helped by Collins upto the imaginary stage.

  "You can change the patter according to the cities you're in," heexplained to the Frenchman. "It's easy to find out the names of the mostdespised and toughest neighbourhoods or villages, and have the boys hailfrom them."

  Continuing the patter, Collins put the performance on. Sam's firstattempt was brief. He was not half on when he was flung to the ground.Half a dozen attempts, quickly repeated, were scarcely better, the lastone permitting him to remain on Barney's back nearly ten seconds, andculminating in a ludicrous fall over Barney's head. Sam withdrew fromthe ring, shaking his head dubiously and holding his side as if in pain.The other lads followed. Expert tumblers, they executed most amazing andside-splitting fails. Sam recovered and came back. Toward the last, allthree made a combined attack on Barney, striving to mount himsimultaneously from different slants of approach. They were scatteredand flung like chaff, sometimes falling heaped together. Once, the twowhite boys, standing apart as if recovering breath, were mowed down bySam's flying body.

 
"Remember, this is a real mule," Collins told the man with the waxedmoustaches. "If any outsiders butt in for a hack at the money, all thebetter. They'll get theirs quick. The man don't live who can stay onhis back a minute . . . if you keep him rehearsed with the spike. Hemust live in fear of the spike. Never let him slow up on it. Never lethim forget it. If you lay off any time for a few days, rehearse him withthe spike a couple of times just before you begin again, or else he mightforget it and queer the turn by ambling around with the first outsiderube that mounts him.

  "And just suppose some rube, all hooks of arms and legs and hands, ismanaging to stick on anyway, and the minute is getting near up. Justhave Sam here, or any of your three, slide in and spike him from thepalm. That'll be good night for Mr. Rube. You can't lose, and theaudience'll laugh its fool head off.

  "Now for the climax! Watch! This always brings the house down. Getbusy you two!--Sam! Ready!"

  While the white boys threatened to mount Barney from either side and kepthis attention engaged, Sam, from outside, in a sudden fit of rage anddesperation, made a flying dive across the ropes and from in front lockedarms and legs about Barney's neck, tucking his own head close againstBarney's head. And Barney reared up on his hind legs, as he had longsince learned from the many palm-spikings he had received on head andneck.

  "It's a corker," Collins announced, as Barney, on his hind legs, strikingvainly with his fore, struggled about the ring. "There's no danger.He'll never fall over backwards. He's a mule, and he's too wise.Besides, even if he does, all Sam has to do is let go and fall clear."

  The turn over, Barney gladly accepted the halter and was led out of thesquare ring and up to the Frenchman.

  "Long life there--look him over," Collins continued to sell. "It's afull turn, including yourself, four performers, besides the mule, andbesides any suckers from the audience. It's all ready to put on theboards, and dirt cheap at five thousand."

  The Frenchman winced at the sum.

  "Listen to arithmetic," Collins went on. "You can sell at twelve hundreda week at least, and you can net eight hundred certain. Six weeks of thenet pays for the turn, and you can book a hundred weeks right off the batand have them yelling for more. Wish I was young and footloose. I'dtake it out on the road myself and coin a fortune."

  And Barney was sold, and passed out of the Cedarwild Animal School to theslavery of the spike and to be provocative of much joy and laughter inthe pleasure-theatre of the world.