However, he was so delighted to have the pushmi-pullyu that he didn’t mind.
He at once led them to what he called their stand – which, he said, he had had built for them that very morning. This the Doctor found to be similar to the place where he had first spoken with Blossom. It was a platform raised three feet from the ground, so that the board-and-canvas room on the top of it could be seen. It had steps up to it, and a little way back from the front edge of the platform curtains covered the entrance to the room, so no one could see inside unless they paid to go in.
Across the front of it was a sign:
THE PUSHMI-PULLYU!
COME AND SEE THE MARVELOUS
TWO-HEADED ANIMAL
FROM THE JUNGLES OF AFRICA!
ADMISSION SIXPENCE
The red and yellow wagon (in which the Doctor’s party, with the exception of the pushmi-pullyu, were to live) was backed behind the “stand”. And Dab-Dab immediately set about making up beds and arranging the inside so it would be homelike.
Blossom wanted to have the pushmi-pullyu put on show at once, but the Doctor refused. He said any wild animal would need to rest after the journey from Puddleby. And he wished the timid beast to get used to the noisy bustle of circus life before he was stared at by a crowd of holiday-makers.
Blossom was disappointed, but he had to give in. Then, to the animals’ delight, he offered to show the Doctor around the circus and introduce him to the various performers. So after the pushmi-pullyu had been moved to his new home in the stand and the Doctor had seen that he was provided with hay and water and bedding, the Puddleby party started out to make a tour of the circus under the guidance of the great Alexander Blossom, ringmaster.
The main show took place only twice a day (at two in the afternoon and at six thirty at night), in a big tent in the middle of the enclosure. But all around this there were smaller tents and stands, most of which you had to pay extra to get into. Of these the Doctor’s establishment was now to form one. They contained all manner of wonders: shooting galleries; guessing games; wild men of Borneo; bearded ladies; merry-go-rounds; strong men, snake charmers; a menagerie, and many more.
Blossom took the Doctor and his friends to the menagerie first. It was a dingy third-rate sort of collection. Most of the animals seemed dirty and unhappy. The Doctor was so saddened he was all for having a row with Blossom over it. But the Cat’s-Meat-Man whispered in his ear:
“Don’t be starting trouble right away, Doctor. Wait a while. After the boss sees how valuable you are with performing animals you’ll be able to do what you like with him. If you kick up a shindy now we’ll maybe lose our job. Then you won’t be able to do anything.”
This struck John Dolittle as good advice. And he contented himself for the present with whispering to the animals through the bars of their cages that later he hoped to do something for them.
Just as they had entered a dirty man was taking around a group of country folk to show them the collection. Stopping before a cage where a small furry animal was imprisoned, the man called out:
“And this, ladies and gents, is the famous Hurri-Gurri, from the forests of Patagonia. ’E ’angs from the trees by ’is tail. Pass on to the next cage.”
The Doctor, followed by Gub-Gub, went over and looked in at “the famous Hurri-Gurri.”
“One of the marsupials”
“Why,” said he, “that’s nothing but a common opossum from America. One of the marsupials.”
“How do you know it’s a Ma Soupial, Doctor?” asked Gub-Gub. “She hasn’t any children with her. Perhaps, it’s a Pa Soupial.”
“And this,” roared the man, standing before the next cage, “is the largest elephant in captivity.”
“Almost the smallest one I ever saw,” murmured the Doctor.
Then Mr. Blossom suggested that they go on to the next show, Princess Fatima, the snake charmer. And he led the way out of the close, evil-smelling menagerie into the open air. As the Doctor passed down the line of cages he hung his head, frowning unhappily. For the various animals, recognizing the great John Dolittle, were all making signs to him to stop and talk with them.
When they entered the snake charmer’s tent, there were no other visitors there for the moment but themselves. On the small stage they beheld the Princess Fatima, powdering her large nose and swearing to herself in cockney. Beside her chair was a big shallow box full of snakes. Matthew Mugg peeped into it, gasped with horror, and then started to run from the tent.
“It’s all right, Matthew,” the Doctor called out. “Don’t be alarmed, they’re quite harmless.”
“What d’yer mean, harmless?” snorted the Princess Fatima, glaring at the Doctor. “They’re king cobras, from India – the deadliest snakes livin’.”
“They’re nothing of the sort,” said the Doctor. “They’re American blacksnakes – non-poisonous.” And he tickled one under the chin.
“You leave them snakes alone!”
“Leave them snakes alone!” yelled the Fatima, rising from her chair – “or I’ll knock yer bloomin’ ’ead orf.”
At this moment Blossom interfered and introduced the ruffled Princess to Mr. Smith.
The conversation which followed (Fatima was still too angry to take much part in it) was interrupted by the arrival of some people who had come to see the snake charmer perform. Blossom led the Doctor’s party off into a corner, whispering:
“She’s marvelous, Smith. One of the best turns I’ve got. Just you watch her.”
Behind the curtains at the back somebody started beating a drum and playing a pipe. Then Fatima arose, lifted two snakes out of the box and wound them around her neck and arms.
“Will ze ladies and ze gentlemen step a little closair,” she cooed softly to her audience. “Zen zay can see bettair – zo!”
“What’s she talking like that for?” Gub-Gub whispered to the Doctor.
“Sh! I suppose she thinks she’s speaking with an Oriental accent,” said John Dolittle.
“Sounds to me like a hot-potato accent,” muttered Gub-Gub. “Isn’t she fat and wobbly!”
Noticing that the Doctor did not seem favourably impressed, the circus master led them out to see the other sideshows.
Crossing over to the strong man’s booth, Gub-Gub caught sight of the Punch and Judy show which is going on at that moment. The play had just reached that point where Toby the dog bites Mr. Punch on the nose. Gub-Gub was fascinated. They could hardly drag him away from it. Indeed, throughout the whole time they spent with the circus this was his chief delight. He never missed a single performance – and, although the play was always the same and he got to know it every word by heart, he
