“How’s he doing?” asked Leo as he came around the porch and up the steps.
“He’ll live. Go ahead in, he’ll be glad to see you.” Behind the screen that helped close off the doorway to the sickroom, Tiger lay in his white hospital bed, his leg hiked as if from a skiing accident.
“Hi,” Leo said.
“Hi yourself.”
“How’re you doing?”
“Okay. How about you?”
“Me? I’m fine.”
“Well, don’t just stand there, come on it.”
Leo sat in the chair, maintaining a discreet distance. “What brings you down this way?” Tiger asked.
“I was – that is – I wanted to see how you were coming along. If it weren’t for my spider you wouldn’t be here.” “Don’t give it a thought. It’s not your fault. I’m glad to see you.”
“You are?”
“Yup. Real glad. We’re some pair, you and me. Acting like two dumb-bells.”
Leo dropped his gaze. “You were right. I’ve been acting like a jerk. And I’m sorry I called you that name.”
“I don’t think I’ll die because of it. Let’s just forget it ever happened.” Tiger held out his hand. “Shake?”
Leo held out his. “Shake.”
“Your playing was really neat,” Tiger went on.
“Glad you liked it.”
“How’s Harpo? I miss him.”
“He’s okay – he misses you, too. He’s really been dogging it since you haven’t been around.”
Tiger laughed at Leo’s pun. “Listen,” he said, lowering his voice. “I was wondering. Do you think you could bring him down here so I could see him?”
Leo lowered his voice too. “Would Wanda let you have a dog in here? He’s liable to have germs and stuff.” “Maybe you could fix it for when she’s not around.”
“I heard that, Tiger Abernathy!”
A stern-faced Nurse Koslowski stood in the doorway. “ ‘When she’s not around,’ what? What plots are you two brigands hatching?”
“He wants to see Harpo,” Leo explained.
“Oh no you don’t, not that flea-bitten hound; not in my infirmary. Is that completely understood?”
“Yes, m’am,” replied Leo.
“Aw, Wanda-”
“Never mind the ‘Aw, Wanda’s,’ Abernathy. Just remember. And for your information, Leo, visiting hours are just about fini’d, so suppose you trot on out of here while our boy gets some sleep.”
Leo adjusted his position, then glanced up at her. “I was wondering – could we read a little?”
“Reading, huh? Okay, go ahead. I’ll sneak a smoke on the porch. But keep it down in here, or I’ll have to toss you out on your baganza.” Her uniform rattled as she turned down the radio, then left the room, her rubber soles squeaking on the painted floor.
Leo pulled his chair closer to the bed and took out several books from his knapsack. Tiger’s choice was “Horatius at the Bridge,” and so Leo began with the tale of “The Captain of the Gate,” set with two stalwart companions to defend the bridge to Rome until the span could be destroyed and the city made safe. He read the hero’s credo:
“To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his Gods…” and he read how, in those days,
… none was for a party;
Then all were for the state;
Then the great man helped the poor,
And the poor man loved the great:
Then lands were fairly portioned;
Then spoils were fairly sold:
The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.
He read until a figure in white appeared in the doorway. Finger to her lips, Wanda signaled Leo to leave.
“Don’t stop,” Tiger murmured. “I’m not asleep.”
“If you’re not, you’re giving a darned good imitation of it,” the nurse replied. “Doctor wants you to rest.”
“But I want to hear the end.”
“Next time. Pretend it’s a cliffhanger. Like Pearl White and that stuff.”
“Tomorrow?” Tiger asked.
Wanda blew out her cheeks. “I suppose – only no dogs, got it?”
“In the infirmary, right?”
“In the infirmary, right.”
“Okay, kiddo.”
Leo went away whistling “The Monkey Wrapped His Tail Around the Flagpole.”
Next day, when Leo looked in at the infirmary window, he found the patient entertaining a pair of visitors whose presence both surprised and pleased him. Seated on chairs brought in from the other rooms were Honey Oliphant, returned at last to Moonbow late the night before, and her Cape Cod friend, Sally Berwick. Also attending the invalid were the Bomber and Emerson Bean, along with Dusty Rhoades and Junior Leffingwell. The Bomber had just got off one of his corny jokes and everyone groaned when an alert-looking, hairy head appeared in the open window.
“Harpo!” Tiger exclaimed with pleasure, stretching out welcoming arms.
“Good evening, Mr Abernathy,” said Harpo, wagging his shaggy head. He spoke in a deep, solemn voice, and sported a bow tie along with the famous Eddie Foy derby. “I don’t believe I’ve met the dark-haired young lady,” Harpo declared, his pink tongue hanging out moistly from under his whiskers. “Is she a new girl in town?” Sally, as dark as Honey was fair, giggled.
“Please be so kind as to introduce us,” Harpo went on, and managed cleverly to doff his headgear.
Getting into the spirit of the thing, Tiger performed the social amenities from his bed. “Sally, this is Harpo the Talking Dog. He can perform twenty tricks in twenty minutes, or ten tricks in ten, take your pick. Harpo, shake hands with Sally.”
“Hullo, Sal,” said the dog and shook hands in a friendly way. “How’s tricks? Say, is she in the movies?” he asked Tiger.
“No, she is not in the movies,” Honey replied.
“Would she like to be? I know a guy in Hollywood.” The girls giggled.
“And I see the Belle of Moonbow Lake has returned to grace our shores once again,” the dog went on sauvely. “I would like to say on behalf of all the other dogs in the neighborhood that we are very pleased to see her again. We’ve been leading a dog’s life since she’s been gone.” Honey laughed outright. “Why, thank you, Harpo. You’re so complimentary. Especially for a dog.”
“Oh, we dogs know our onions, girls,” Harpo returned, and laughed. “Being nearer to the ground, we can spot a well-turned ankle with the best of them.”
“Oh, Harpo, you’re making her blush!” exclaimed Sally as Honey clapped a palm to each cheek.
“If so, it is the blush the sun provides the peach,” replied the dog majestically. Then, so intriguing did the hairy visitor find the gathering inside that he clambered over the sill and bounded into the room. In two more bounds he was up on the bed, keening with pleasure and joyfully licking Tiger’s face.
“Harpo, you get right down from there this minute!” Honey jumped up and clapped her hands; in another moment Leo followed Harpo in over the sill, hurried to the bed, seized the dog around its middle, and hauled it bodily from the covers. With the animal’s jumbo-sized head blocking his view, its four paws- sticking straight out, its animated tail swinging like a clock pendulum, Leo energetically wrestled it toward the doorway – where something impeded further progress.
“I thought we said no dogs in here!” came Wanda’s stern voice as, pushing him backward, she marched into the room and confronted the gathering. “Isn’t that what we said, boys and girls?”
“Yes – only-” Blindly Leo engineered an awkward circle, trying to get his bearings.
“Only nothing!” Wanda retorted with mock fierceness. “Out! O-u-t, out! All dogs, all boys with dogs. Now. This minute. This very instant, Leo Joaquim, or you’ll rue the day, I promise.”
So the hairy object of Tiger’s affection was banished from the premises – not far ^however: Harpo took up a position outside the window, tongue still hanging a-pant, earnestly cocking his head, the model of canine rectitude. Meanwhile, Wanda cleared out her place of work, dispatching Tiger’s visitors to their respective cabins, Honey and her friend Sally back to Three Corner Cove.