The Preposterous Adventures of Swimmer (11 page)

“Sir, all my loyalty at this point is for Swimmer. If you'd just try to understand his side of it—”

“Clarence,” Dr. Hoffman interrupted, and now his voice was like a grinding iceberg, “I'll have to remind you that Swimmer is a laboratory creature whose training has cost me a fortune. As such, he is my private property to do with as I wish, and he has no rights whatever.”

This was too much for Swimmer. “Ding blatt it!” he shrieked. “I've got rights, same as anyone else! If you wouldn't act so skrinky, Doc, we might get along!”

There was an abrupt silence below. Every head jerked toward him. Patrolman Swensen's mouth gaped open, and he seemed powerless to close it. Mr. Owl's wise black eyes crinkled, and he smiled with a secret delight.

From the speaker Dr. Hoffman's voice demanded, “What the devil was that noise?”

Clarence said, “That was Swimmer, sir, and he insists that he does have rights.”

Swimmer called, “Clarence, let me speak to him. I was all set to sell myself down the river when you came. Now, I don't have to, glory be! Maybe I can make a
real
deal!”

Clarence said worriedly, “If you can read my mind, Swimmer, you'll realize I wasn't able to buy very much on my shopping trip. Are you sure you know what you're doing now?”

Swimmer gulped. He saw clearly at last that Clarence had wanted to buy the mortgaged trout farm through the bank. Only, something had happened. Swimmer said, “Maybe we'd better let Mr. Owl handle this. I'm sorta shy on law-training, and Mr. Owl looks like my kind of man. Will you represent me, Mr. Owl?”

Mr. Owl's black eyes crinkled again. He smiled and nodded. “It would be a pleasure, Swimmer. Just tell me what you want done!”

“The net's the first thing,” Swimmer said. “Tell the Wildlife officer to make that dirty trapper take it away. Then he can drive the scummy skrink and his rotty dog and his helper off the place. Ding 'em to dongnation, I never want to see 'em again!”

Swimmer drew a deep breath. The big deal was next. In spite of Clarence's failure at the bank, he was sure something could be arranged, and that Mr. Owl could work out the details. The main thing was to hold what people called a top-level conference. And the sooner, the better, for something told him that a delay might be dangerous. “Mr. Owl,” he said, “tell Doc Hoffman that if he wants me to go on any more lecture tours with him, he'd better come out here right away and have a little talk.”

By the timekeeping arrangement in the back of Swimmer's mind it was five minutes after three that afternoon when the great Dr. Rufus Hoffman, accompanied by Mr. Tippet who had gone to meet him at the road, came down through the forest to join the group under the beech tree. The trappers and the Wildlife man had left, and there remained only Clarence, Mr. Owl, and Mr. Hogarth.

Dr. Hoffman had been anything but pleased with the idea of the meeting, and Swimmer knew he was considerably less pleased now as he moved with implacable dignity to the tree. Ignoring Clarence, Dr. Hoffman merely nodded at Mr. Owl and bestowed his handshake only upon Mr. Hogarth, whom he obviously considered worthy by reason of reputation. Finally he sat down on a campstool provided by Mr. Tippet and frowningly surveyed those in front of him, like God sitting in judgment. With his great shock of white hair and white moustache and goatee, he was an impressive and commanding figure.

“This,” he ground out coldly, “is the most outrageous thing I ever heard of! Where's Swimmer?”

“Right here, Doc,” said Swimmer, as he limped up from the pebbly area and settled beside Clarence. “As Mr. Owl told you, I'm willing to make a deal. But first each of us will have to make a few con—con—What's the blatted word?”

“Concessions,” said Clarence.

“That's right. Concessions. But Mr. Owl will explain it to you.”

Dr. Hoffman seemed not to hear. He was staring at Swimmer with open-mouthed surprise. “Why,” he exclaimed, “you really can talk! Somehow I couldn't quite believe it.”

“Oh, he can talk,” Mr. Owl said drily, “and he's not at all backward in the use of language. It should add considerably to his box-office appeal.”

“Mr. Owl, I am hardly interested in box-office appeal. I am a scientist as well as a man of means.”

Mr. Owl nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, but I happen to know that your income from lecturing has gone up enormously since Swimmer began appearing with you. Therefore, before he appears again, he must have a contract giving him a percentage of the earnings.”

“That is utterly ridiculous,” said the doctor. “I presume you and Clarence are planning to pocket most of it?”

“Not one penny of it. There are some men, Doctor, whose minds do not happen to work that way. Clarence has an adequate pension, and I have more than I need. Our only reward will be Swimmer's friendship.”

“Oh, come now,” Dr. Hoffman said irritably. “What kind of game is this? Swimmer has no use for money!”

“But I have!” Swimmer burst out. “And it's a whump-dooley of a good use too! I—I want to adopt Penny Jones.”

“
What?
”

Mr. Hogarth said, “Doctor, he has a great regard for that little redheaded girl I told you about earlier. We've explained to him about the difficulties of adoption, but Mr. Owl thinks he can work out something by which I will be the legal guardian and Swimmer a sort of contributing associate. In other words, his income would go to Penny's support and future schooling. She's a most extraordinary—”

“I have no interest whatever in extraordinary children,” Dr. Hoffman interrupted coldly. “Is this the only reason you wanted a contract?”

“By no means,” said Mr. Owl, smiling his odd little smile. “Swimmer insists upon several other points. First, the establishment of a summer laboratory in this section of the mountains—he prefers the trout farm, and I understand it can be bought. Next, he wants Clarence to remain with him, as usual, and he requests that Miss Primm be brought from the city, along with the white mouse and the mynah bird. Miss Primm, by the way, can be Penny's companion and governess.”

After a pause, Mr. Owl went on, “We come, finally, to what could be the most important part—”

“You mean he wants
more?
” Dr. Hoffman said with thunderous sarcasm.

“Yes,” Mr. Owl admitted. “And I'm sure you'll find this part uncommonly interesting. In fact, the entire world—”

“I don't want to hear it!” the doctor thundered, rising. “I've heard enough already. This is preposterous, utterly preposterous! Do you think for a moment I'd ever allow myself to be dictated to by—by an animal? An overgrown member of the weasel family? The very idea of it is revolting. When I regain possession of him—and I will—he'll be taught a lesson! Come, Tippet. Show me the way back.”

Swimmer felt as if he had been slapped and kicked. He had had it all planned for Ripple to come out at this time and be introduced. Mr. Owl and Mr. Hogarth had already met her, and they had really flipped. Mr. Owl had said, “Why, she's just as you described her, Swimmer. She's as cute as a water bug and as bright as a chickadee!” And Mr. Hogarth had added, “What a pair you'll make! Dr. Hoffman's bound to love her.”

But now the bright vision of Ripple and himself wearing silver bells onstage together went glimmering.

Swimmer stared, stricken, at the doctor's retreating back. “You—you—” he burst out. Then he found his tongue and cried, “Sure, maybe I am an overgrown weasel. But I'd rather be that than a puffed-up member of the ape family, like you! That's what you are—a skrinky old swelled-up blattheaded ape!”

Dr. Hoffman paused briefly and glared backward, mouth agape as if he could not believe his ears. Mr. Hogarth chuckled and said, “You tell 'im, Swimmer—and I'll tell the world!”

For a while afterward silence held them.

Presently Mr. Hogarth said, “I'd like to talk to Penny again, if I can find her.”

“If you can locate her,” said Mr. Owl, “I'd like to meet her.”

Clarence said, “I'd better go along with you. I want to see her myself, and there are some points of law you can straighten me out on.”

Long after they had gone, Swimmer sat glumly under the tree, watching Ripple and Willow fish in the pool, while he waited for Clarence to return. He would have joined them just to take his mind off things, only, for no reason at all it seemed, his leg had begun to hurt worse than ever. But maybe it was just the rotty situation. He had never felt so low.

Suddenly his attention was attracted by happy chirruping in the upper part of the pool. Now, instead of two dark heads in the water, there were four. The other two seemed to be a pair of much older otters who were Willow's friends.

He had no heart for meeting them, but he watched them curiously until Ripple came back, bringing him a fish. She touched her cold nose to his and settled on the grass beside him.

In answer to his question, she explained that the visitors were her mother's mother and father. She added,
They want us to go down to the river with them
.

Is Willow going?
he asked.

Yes
.

And you?

I will go where you go
, she told him.
For as long as we have life. We can be happy without silver bells
.

A great warmth filled his heart.
You are right. But it would have been great to wear the bells together, and answer people's questions and make fun of their crazy ways. And I wanted you to see the world
.

This is our world
, she reminded him.

I wanted us to have a little of both worlds
, he explained.
That way we would always have Penny and Clarence for friends. But now, when this is over, we may never see them again
.

It is far from over
, came her thought, and he could feel the uneasiness in her.

Swimmer also had been vaguely uneasy ever since Clarence left, and now the feeling began to grow. He wondered if Snake Eyes had anything to do with it. Had the trapper really gone away, or was he hiding somewhere, waiting until there was no one around to see what he did? The very thought of Snake Eyes could always bring a chill creeping through him.

His mind turned to Penny, and he felt a little sick. Now that he couldn't help her, what was going to become of her?

He was not surprised when Willow, at last, came up and briefly touched noses with Ripple and himself. When she re-entered the creek and slipped downstream it was with the understanding that she would see them again on her regular rounds during the weeks ahead.

With her mother gone, Ripple crept closer to Swimmer for comfort, and they waited while the shadows lengthened and deepened. It seemed that Clarence would never return.

It was long after dark when Clarence finally got back. Swimmer knew instantly that he was deeply concerned about something.

“Did you find Penny?” he said, almost afraid to ask questions.

“No,” Clarence mumbled. “She must have got hungry and gone back to the trout farm. I sure wish we'd located her first. Mr. Owl was ready to take her home with him until Mr. Hogarth could get a decent family to look after her.”

Swimmer waited. There was something else in the back of Clarence's mind, and it had to do with Snake Eyes. But Clarence began talking about the trout farm instead.

“That's a mighty pretty little place, Swimmer,” he said, as he broke up twigs to start a small fire. “First time I saw it I thought how I'd like to own it and retire there. Doesn't look like that'll happen now, but, at least, I bought up the mortgage on it.”

“You—you bought the trout farm mortgage from the bank?” Swimmer exclaimed.

“Well, I had Mr. Owl do it for me this morning, so folks wouldn't know. You see, by my buying the mortgage, we figured we'd get Mr. Sykes to sell the place if we offered a good price. When I found out he still had his old farm he could move back to, I offered better than a good price if he'd sell and move out immediately.”

Clarence sighed and shook his head. “It didn't work. Not even with an overdue mortgage hanging over him that could be foreclosed. He sure is a no-account stubborn buzzard!”

Swimmer had only a hazy idea of such matters. “Couldn't you foreclose and drive the scumpy weasel off?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” said Clarence. “It takes forever to pry a man loose from his property that way. There are scads of laws to protect him. I thought sure I could get old Doc to handle it—with all his money he'd manage to get it right away if he wanted it. But that didn't work, either. Now, I don't know what to do.”

“Why don't you tell me about Snake Eyes?” Swimmer said uneasily.

Clarence looked at him sharply. He sighed again. “Reckon I'd better. You've got to know the worst. I think that rascal wants to kill you.”

“No!”

“I'm afraid he does, old pal.”

“But why? What makes you so sure?”

“It's like this,” said Clarence. “When I left Mr. Owl and Mr. Hogarth at the road I figured I'd better do a little scouting, just for safety's sake. When we were looking for Penny we found where Snake Eyes and his man have their truck hidden, so we knew Doc had probably hired 'em to stick around until he could get that restraining order changed—which he'll do, sure as anything.

“Anyway, when I found where those trappers were camped, I had one of those funny feelings like I get sometimes. So I slipped back there and did some listening. That devilish black dog made it hard—I had to keep downwind and stay in the smoke of their campfire, so he wouldn't sniff me. And I didn't dare get too close, either. So I could only catch a word now and then. But I caught enough. Snake Eyes hates you. And he's scared of you.”

“Hates me? Scared of me? But why?”

“Because you can talk,” said Clarence. “He's superstitious, and it really shook him. He hates you for the things you said to him—and he's scared of you for the things you haven't said. He's got the idea you can read his mind.”