BokRobot reading edition
Books
FreeThe 'Dopters
Adapt
“Lemmy—oo-hoo—Lemmy—”
Lemmy stopped short in his game of jack-stones and looked fearfully over his shoulder. All around him, the other children played on, undisturbed by the peaceful afternoon shadow cast by the gray, cloister-like walls. At the edge of the yard where the grass had worn thin, he saw the “biggest boys” pause in their game of ball to call him. Above their cries, he recognized the loud, rasping voice of Gus Chapman. Lemmy did not answer. He turned his back and tried to toss his jackstones with an air of indifference, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Gus approaching.
“The ’Dopters, Lemmy—the ’Dopters are coming!” Gus warned.
In an instant, Lemmy was on his feet. Panic-stricken, he fled, leaving his jackstones scattered on the ground. He clapped his hands over his ears to block out the mocking shouts of the boys who didn't understand his fear of the ’Dopters—that horde of individuals who lurked around the Home, a constant menace to his happiness. They looked harmless enough, to be sure, in their various disguises. Some came as jolly, elderly ladies with pockets full of candy and sometimes fat bunches of raisins. Others looked just like hearty farmers who might grow apples, both red and yellow—very deceptive, those farmers, who laughed a lot, poked the boys' muscles, and pinched the girls' cheeks. But the most feared were the ’Dopters in black, who hung around more than any others. They brought toys that were barely worn, yet at the last minute they seemed reluctant to let them go.
They made a show of crying over Gracie Peeler and Nannie Bagget, who had curls and knew how to do a curtsey. The ’Dopters in black always carried someone off.
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 1 / 12
# chapter_page: 1
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
“Lemmy—oo-hoo—Lemmy—”
Lemmy stopped short in his game of jack-stones and looked fearfully over his shoulder. All around him, the other children played on, undisturbed by the peaceful afternoon shadow cast by the gray, cloister-like walls. At the edge of the yard where the grass had worn thin, he saw the “biggest boys” pause in their game of ball to call him. Above their cries, he recognized the loud, rasping voice of Gus Chapman. Lemmy did not answer. He turned his back and tried to toss his jackstones with an air of indifference, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Gus approaching.
“The ’Dopters, Lemmy—the ’Dopters are coming!” Gus warned.
In an instant, Lemmy was on his feet. Panic-stricken, he fled, leaving his jackstones scattered on the ground. He clapped his hands over his ears to block out the mocking shouts of the boys who didn't understand his fear of the ’Dopters—that horde of individuals who lurked around the Home, a constant menace to his happiness. They looked harmless enough, to be sure, in their various disguises. Some came as jolly, elderly ladies with pockets full of candy and sometimes fat bunches of raisins. Others looked just like hearty farmers who might grow apples, both red and yellow—very deceptive, those farmers, who laughed a lot, poked the boys' muscles, and pinched the girls' cheeks. But the most feared were the ’Dopters in black, who hung around more than any others. They brought toys that were barely worn, yet at the last minute they seemed reluctant to let them go.
They made a show of crying over Gracie Peeler and Nannie Bagget, who had curls and knew how to do a curtsey. The ’Dopters in black always carried someone off.Despite the endless variety, it wasn't hard to spot a ’Dopter if you saw him in time. There was something about them. Most children recognized them instinctively. Gus was particularly good at picking out the ’Dopters from the casual visitors at the Home. Watching for them never interfered with his play in the least; he always spotted them first. Lemmy had learned to trust Gus's danger signals, and although he was overwhelmed by the accompanying teasing, he felt deeply grateful. Gus was his savior—his methods were not to be questioned. Countless times, Gus had saved him from being adopted.
Who knew what being adopted really meant? Lemmy couldn't understand why most children thought it was something nice. None of them seemed to realize there was any reason to be afraid. They were always talking about Tommie Graham, who had been borne off by the ’Dopters. His friends at the Home hadn't seen him since his disappearance, but stories had started somehow about Tommie having a dog with a schooner back and a train of cars that whizzed around when he pressed a button. It was also said that there was another button that Tommie could press to summon someone to take him for a ride in a sailboat. But all this was mere hearsay. No one could tell what had really befallen Tommie, all because he was foolish enough to sing, within earshot of the ’Dopters, his song about three frogs sitting on a lily pad.
Lemmy was certain that when a ’Dopter threw off his disguise, he became a dragon of the very worst kind. It was Simple Simon to believe their talk about this or that you could have if you would only come along. Lemmy knew, for once, from behind the office door, he had heard them talking to Miss Border, who wore the white of authority. Their remarks about “parental history,” “hereditary instincts,” and “psychological effects of environment” had betrayed them. Lemmy remembered how ominous these words had sounded, mixed with the whoops and holloos from the playground. And the queer feeling that had shivered through him! The sensation of eating a mouthful of green gooseberries was nothing in comparison.
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 2 / 12
# chapter_page: 2
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
Despite the endless variety, it wasn't hard to spot a ’Dopter if you saw him in time. There was something about them. Most children recognized them instinctively. Gus was particularly good at picking out the ’Dopters from the casual visitors at the Home. Watching for them never interfered with his play in the least; he always spotted them first. Lemmy had learned to trust Gus's danger signals, and although he was overwhelmed by the accompanying teasing, he felt deeply grateful. Gus was his savior—his methods were not to be questioned. Countless times, Gus had saved him from being adopted.
Who knew what being adopted really meant? Lemmy couldn't understand why most children thought it was something nice. None of them seemed to realize there was any reason to be afraid. They were always talking about Tommie Graham, who had been borne off by the ’Dopters. His friends at the Home hadn't seen him since his disappearance, but stories had started somehow about Tommie having a dog with a schooner back and a train of cars that whizzed around when he pressed a button. It was also said that there was another button that Tommie could press to summon someone to take him for a ride in a sailboat. But all this was mere hearsay. No one could tell what had really befallen Tommie, all because he was foolish enough to sing, within earshot of the ’Dopters, his song about three frogs sitting on a lily pad.
Lemmy was certain that when a ’Dopter threw off his disguise, he became a dragon of the very worst kind. It was Simple Simon to believe their talk about this or that you could have if you would only come along. Lemmy knew, for once, from behind the office door, he had heard them talking to Miss Border, who wore the white of authority. Their remarks about “parental history,” “hereditary instincts,” and “psychological effects of environment” had betrayed them. Lemmy remembered how ominous these words had sounded, mixed with the whoops and holloos from the playground. And the queer feeling that had shivered through him! The sensation of eating a mouthful of green gooseberries was nothing in comparison.How could the other children believe that those words likely meant something nice? Lemmy knew better. After overhearing that secret conference with Miss Border, he thought he understood the ’Dopters pretty well. Theirs was a sticky-flypaper method; there was no end to the ways they had of fooling you. They had named him “among the least promising”—this, Lemmy gathered, on account of his skinny legs, the result of something “subnormal”; and because of his habit of going off alone into corners, which they termed “sulkiness and uncompanionability”; his big ears had something to do with it too. One tall lady had said they were “not exactly Grecian.” Altogether, he was “undesirable.” This classification even Gus took to be above board.
“They don't wantcha, Lemmy,” Gus repeatedly assured him. “Yuh needn't be so scarey.” But Gus didn't fathom the duplicity of the ’Dopters—they hatched all sorts of schemes to make you feel at ease and then caught you unawares. Likely as not, they knew all along that he was the littlest boy in the Home who could hang by his heels, that he could hold his breath longer than Gus, and that—though it was a secret—he had a pet toad named Nippy in the broken wall where it was green and wet. They seemed to know everything, the ’Dopters.
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 3 / 12
# chapter_page: 3
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
How could the other children believe that those words likely meant something nice? Lemmy knew better. After overhearing that secret conference with Miss Border, he thought he understood the ’Dopters pretty well. Theirs was a sticky-flypaper method; there was no end to the ways they had of fooling you. They had named him “among the least promising”—this, Lemmy gathered, on account of his skinny legs, the result of something “subnormal”; and because of his habit of going off alone into corners, which they termed “sulkiness and uncompanionability”; his big ears had something to do with it too. One tall lady had said they were “not exactly Grecian.” Altogether, he was “undesirable.” This classification even Gus took to be above board.
“They don't wantcha, Lemmy,” Gus repeatedly assured him. “Yuh needn't be so scarey.” But Gus didn't fathom the duplicity of the ’Dopters—they hatched all sorts of schemes to make you feel at ease and then caught you unawares. Likely as not, they knew all along that he was the littlest boy in the Home who could hang by his heels, that he could hold his breath longer than Gus, and that—though it was a secret—he had a pet toad named Nippy in the broken wall where it was green and wet. They seemed to know everything, the ’Dopters.The thought of these things made Lemmy's heels fly faster. He whisked behind the spirea bushes and drew out from under the widespreading branches a short ladder he had laboriously constructed from odds and ends of dry-goods boxes. He set up the rickety support and climbed nimbly to the top of the high, broad wall, where the low elm trees hid him from view. He carefully pulled the ladder up after him and, with a breath of relief, stretched out at full length, safe from the ’Dopters for a little while at least. It was comforting to have such a hiding place, unless the ’Dopters came at mealtime, when no one could escape. He would not soon forget the time Lucy Simmons was dragged away just as she had started to eat her piece of blackberry pie. She never came back to finish it. One could never be truly safe from the ’Dopters. There was no let-up in watching for them. And there would always be ’Dopters as long as the Outside remained.
Lemmy was afraid of the Outside. He liked to look at it from the top of the wall; it seemed fascinatingly full of mystery, but it always terrified him. There was no truly safe place, not even bed. Lemmy sighed and squinted through the fluttering leaves at a bit of cloud. After a while, it would be turning pink, as it did when supper time came—baked potatoes and milk, and maybe jam from the long, dark shelves in the vegetable cellar. Lemmy's thoughts flew to the empty barrel in which he intended to hide when winter came and the elm leaves fell to the ground. It would be hard to get past Mrs. O'Gorman, who was always puttering about the basement with a pad and pencil, muttering unintelligible things under her breath. Perhaps the linen closet would be safer, only they might come when Gerda and Lou were putting away the ironed things.
Lemmy's speculations were interrupted by a deep “Ho-ho-hum” from the other side of the wall. The exclamation had a luxurious sound, as if someone were treating himself to a good rest. Lemmy peered over the edge of the wall and gave a little gasp.
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 4 / 12
# chapter_page: 4
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
The thought of these things made Lemmy's heels fly faster. He whisked behind the spirea bushes and drew out from under the widespreading branches a short ladder he had laboriously constructed from odds and ends of dry-goods boxes. He set up the rickety support and climbed nimbly to the top of the high, broad wall, where the low elm trees hid him from view. He carefully pulled the ladder up after him and, with a breath of relief, stretched out at full length, safe from the ’Dopters for a little while at least. It was comforting to have such a hiding place, unless the ’Dopters came at mealtime, when no one could escape. He would not soon forget the time Lucy Simmons was dragged away just as she had started to eat her piece of blackberry pie. She never came back to finish it. One could never be truly safe from the ’Dopters. There was no let-up in watching for them. And there would always be ’Dopters as long as the Outside remained.
Lemmy was afraid of the Outside. He liked to look at it from the top of the wall; it seemed fascinatingly full of mystery, but it always terrified him. There was no truly safe place, not even bed. Lemmy sighed and squinted through the fluttering leaves at a bit of cloud. After a while, it would be turning pink, as it did when supper time came—baked potatoes and milk, and maybe jam from the long, dark shelves in the vegetable cellar. Lemmy's thoughts flew to the empty barrel in which he intended to hide when winter came and the elm leaves fell to the ground. It would be hard to get past Mrs. O'Gorman, who was always puttering about the basement with a pad and pencil, muttering unintelligible things under her breath. Perhaps the linen closet would be safer, only they might come when Gerda and Lou were putting away the ironed things.
Lemmy's speculations were interrupted by a deep “Ho-ho-hum” from the other side of the wall. The exclamation had a luxurious sound, as if someone were treating himself to a good rest. Lemmy peered over the edge of the wall and gave a little gasp.
There, on the bench below, was someone who had undoubtedly stepped out of the pages of a book. He was a big man, a very big man, with a brown skin lined with fine wrinkles that told all sorts of things without his saying a word. His hair was gray, but he looked somehow very young and ready for anything lively. His old trousers were turned up, and his coat with its big buttons, flung wide open, revealed a faded blouse. From his belt dangled a heavy chain, and from his pocket poked the end of a brightly colored handkerchief. His cap had the look of a cap that had been through things.
Slowly and comfortably he stretched his long arms, and as his sleeve slipped back, Lemmy caught sight of a tattooed bird, green and blue and red, above his left wrist. Then he flung his head back, and his blue eyes twinkled up at Lemmy without a sign of surprise.
“A-hoy, mate,” he called companionably.
“A-hoy, Cap'n,” returned Lemmy, laughing in delight.
“How's the wind?”
“Southwest,” Lemmy gave back promptly. “And that's what stirs the water up all purply pink—”
“Right-o—” The Cap'n slapped his knee in approval.
“Wind that makes the lake look like that must come from a place where a fellah could find out about magic,” Lemmy speculated.
“Magic? You want to find out about magic, young man?” The Cap'n sat up with a great show of interest. His eyes were very friendly.
“Oh, more'n anything else in the world,” Lemmy burst out impulsively. “I want to find out how to make a rosebush pop out of a stovepipe hat, how to pull fuzzy little chickens out of people's sleeves, and how to pick gold pieces out of the air the way I saw a man do once to make the lumbermen laugh at Camp Cusson—that's where I lived when my Daddy used to run the lumber camp until he died, and so did my mother of epidemick—” Lemmy caught his breath. “I want to learn how to do magic so I can have fun and make people laugh.”
The Cap'n chuckled and spread his brightly colored handkerchief across his knees. From an old, brown wallet he took a coin, which he twirled merrily in his nimble fingers.
“Have a look at this,” he said, reaching up to put the coin into Lemmy's hand.
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 5 / 12
# chapter_page: 5
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
There, on the bench below, was someone who had undoubtedly stepped out of the pages of a book. He was a big man, a very big man, with a brown skin lined with fine wrinkles that told all sorts of things without his saying a word. His hair was gray, but he looked somehow very young and ready for anything lively. His old trousers were turned up, and his coat with its big buttons, flung wide open, revealed a faded blouse. From his belt dangled a heavy chain, and from his pocket poked the end of a brightly colored handkerchief. His cap had the look of a cap that had been through things.
Slowly and comfortably he stretched his long arms, and as his sleeve slipped back, Lemmy caught sight of a tattooed bird, green and blue and red, above his left wrist. Then he flung his head back, and his blue eyes twinkled up at Lemmy without a sign of surprise.
“A-hoy, mate,” he called companionably.
“A-hoy, Cap'n,” returned Lemmy, laughing in delight.
“How's the wind?”
“Southwest,” Lemmy gave back promptly. “And that's what stirs the water up all purply pink—”
“Right-o—” The Cap'n slapped his knee in approval.
“Wind that makes the lake look like that must come from a place where a fellah could find out about magic,” Lemmy speculated.
“Magic? You want to find out about magic, young man?” The Cap'n sat up with a great show of interest. His eyes were very friendly.
“Oh, more'n anything else in the world,” Lemmy burst out impulsively. “I want to find out how to make a rosebush pop out of a stovepipe hat, how to pull fuzzy little chickens out of people's sleeves, and how to pick gold pieces out of the air the way I saw a man do once to make the lumbermen laugh at Camp Cusson—that's where I lived when my Daddy used to run the lumber camp until he died, and so did my mother of epidemick—” Lemmy caught his breath. “I want to learn how to do magic so I can have fun and make people laugh.”
The Cap'n chuckled and spread his brightly colored handkerchief across his knees. From an old, brown wallet he took a coin, which he twirled merrily in his nimble fingers.
“Have a look at this,” he said, reaching up to put the coin into Lemmy's hand.Lemmy looked curiously at the strange piece of money lying in his palm. It was not at all like the dimes and nickels the ’Dopters often slid into a fellow's pocket. It was shiny and yellow, the color of the pin that always fastened Miss Border's collar. It was gold! And on it were figures of dragons guarding words Lemmy could not read at all, though they were very short.
“Heave it into the hanker,” directed the Cap'n.
Plump into the colorful handkerchief, Lemmy dropped the coin. Wide-eyed, he watched the Cap'n tie the handkerchief into a knot and twist it smartly to make sure it was secure. With a fine flourish, he flung it high into the air, caught it again deftly, and untied the tight knot. Smiling broadly, he spread the handkerchief out on his knees once more. Lemmy stared in disbelief—the gold coin had vanished, and in its place lay a silver dollar. He blinked, dazed. Very quickly, the Cap'n retied the handkerchief and tossed it up again. When he opened it, wonder of wonders, there was the gold coin!
A cry of discovery burst from Lemmy's throat.
“You're a Majishun!”
The Cap'n beamed and drew from his pocket one, two, three oranges. He took the gold coin again and, carelessly balancing it on his nose, tossed the oranges one after another into the air, juggling them with fine precision so they rose and fell rhythmically in time to music only the Cap'n could hear.
“They're majicked!” Lemmy whispered, spellbound, as he watched the oranges flash in the air while the coin remained seemingly glued to the Cap'n's nose.
His eyes grew wider still when, suddenly, the Cap'n ended his performance with one grand sweep, gathering in oranges and coin without dropping a thing.
“Now hold out your hands,” the Cap'n invited.
Before Lemmy could say “Jack Robinson,” there, right in his own hands, was one of the magician's golden balls.
“Shiver my timbers, did you never see an orange before?” the Cap'n cried as he watched Lemmy's face.
“Not a Majishun's orange,” Lemmy answered, fingering his treasure reverently.
“Taste it, young 'un—”
“O-oh, I couldn't!” Lemmy's voice carried agony.
“The Cap'n's orders. Eat it, and you get another.”
Still Lemmy hesitated.
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 6 / 12
# chapter_page: 6
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
Lemmy looked curiously at the strange piece of money lying in his palm. It was not at all like the dimes and nickels the ’Dopters often slid into a fellow's pocket. It was shiny and yellow, the color of the pin that always fastened Miss Border's collar. It was gold! And on it were figures of dragons guarding words Lemmy could not read at all, though they were very short.
“Heave it into the hanker,” directed the Cap'n.
Plump into the colorful handkerchief, Lemmy dropped the coin. Wide-eyed, he watched the Cap'n tie the handkerchief into a knot and twist it smartly to make sure it was secure. With a fine flourish, he flung it high into the air, caught it again deftly, and untied the tight knot. Smiling broadly, he spread the handkerchief out on his knees once more. Lemmy stared in disbelief—the gold coin had vanished, and in its place lay a silver dollar. He blinked, dazed. Very quickly, the Cap'n retied the handkerchief and tossed it up again. When he opened it, wonder of wonders, there was the gold coin!
A cry of discovery burst from Lemmy's throat.
“You're a Majishun!”
The Cap'n beamed and drew from his pocket one, two, three oranges. He took the gold coin again and, carelessly balancing it on his nose, tossed the oranges one after another into the air, juggling them with fine precision so they rose and fell rhythmically in time to music only the Cap'n could hear.
“They're majicked!” Lemmy whispered, spellbound, as he watched the oranges flash in the air while the coin remained seemingly glued to the Cap'n's nose.
His eyes grew wider still when, suddenly, the Cap'n ended his performance with one grand sweep, gathering in oranges and coin without dropping a thing.
“Now hold out your hands,” the Cap'n invited.
Before Lemmy could say “Jack Robinson,” there, right in his own hands, was one of the magician's golden balls.
“Shiver my timbers, did you never see an orange before?” the Cap'n cried as he watched Lemmy's face.
“Not a Majishun's orange,” Lemmy answered, fingering his treasure reverently.
“Taste it, young 'un—”
“O-oh, I couldn't!” Lemmy's voice carried agony.
“The Cap'n's orders. Eat it, and you get another.”
Still Lemmy hesitated.“I'll have one along with you,” the Cap'n urged sociably. “I can beat you peeling!”
The Cap'n began to peel one of the former magic balls. Lemmy quickly sank his teeth into his own orange. The race was on. Lemmy's squeal of victory as he threw down the last bit of rind surprised the Cap'n mightily.
“And mine's only half peeled,” he exclaimed. “You are a quick-un.”
Then, quite naturally, Lemmy fell to eating oranges alongside the Cap'n.
“Eating oranges with a Majishun—what'd Gus say?” Lemmy murmured, half in a trance. “What if I hadn't run away from the ’Dopters?”
“The ’Dopters?” The Cap'n tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, looking very puzzled. “Who are they?”
“Oh, the ’Dopters are always hanging round the Home, trying to carry us off. A fellah has to watch out all the time. They're sharp as tacks, always trying to fool us by looking diff'rent. Ev'ry time they come, they change their clothes to put us off the track.”
“Oh-ho—so you don't like 'em, eh?”
“Oh, I'm afraid of 'em, they scare me so!” Lemmy's voice quivered pitifully. “All the time I have to think of 'em. I'm never, never safe from the ’Dopters. I bet they'd poke a fellah's eyes out once they got him, or starve him maybe. Oh, I don't know what a ’Dopter wouldn't do!”
The Cap'n listened gravely. He never once laughed as Lemmy poured out his miserable fear of the ’Dopters. The Cap'n understood; Lemmy could tell that. By the time the oranges had disappeared, Lemmy had told the Cap'n all about the ’Dopters and even confided the existence of Nippy.
“I'll show him to you,” Lemmy offered, scrambling down the ladder to return with his pet toad on a wet leaf for exhibition.
The Cap'n was a gratifying sort. He immediately saw Nippy's good points—the beautiful brightness of his eyes, the fine spots on his back, the superiority of his intellect. Nippy, in turn, winked his approval at the Cap'n as if they shared many a joke.
“As fine a toad as ever sat a rock or sailed the sea,” avowed the Cap'n enthusiastically. “By the bye, young man, how'd you like to take Nippy on a cruise with me?”
Lemmy clutched the wall and gazed for one electric second into the Cap'n's eyes. It wasn't a joke!
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 7 / 12
# chapter_page: 7
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
“I'll have one along with you,” the Cap'n urged sociably. “I can beat you peeling!”
The Cap'n began to peel one of the former magic balls. Lemmy quickly sank his teeth into his own orange. The race was on. Lemmy's squeal of victory as he threw down the last bit of rind surprised the Cap'n mightily.
“And mine's only half peeled,” he exclaimed. “You are a quick-un.”
Then, quite naturally, Lemmy fell to eating oranges alongside the Cap'n.
“Eating oranges with a Majishun—what'd Gus say?” Lemmy murmured, half in a trance. “What if I hadn't run away from the ’Dopters?”
“The ’Dopters?” The Cap'n tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, looking very puzzled. “Who are they?”
“Oh, the ’Dopters are always hanging round the Home, trying to carry us off. A fellah has to watch out all the time. They're sharp as tacks, always trying to fool us by looking diff'rent. Ev'ry time they come, they change their clothes to put us off the track.”
“Oh-ho—so you don't like 'em, eh?”
“Oh, I'm afraid of 'em, they scare me so!” Lemmy's voice quivered pitifully. “All the time I have to think of 'em. I'm never, never safe from the ’Dopters. I bet they'd poke a fellah's eyes out once they got him, or starve him maybe. Oh, I don't know what a ’Dopter wouldn't do!”
The Cap'n listened gravely. He never once laughed as Lemmy poured out his miserable fear of the ’Dopters. The Cap'n understood; Lemmy could tell that. By the time the oranges had disappeared, Lemmy had told the Cap'n all about the ’Dopters and even confided the existence of Nippy.
“I'll show him to you,” Lemmy offered, scrambling down the ladder to return with his pet toad on a wet leaf for exhibition.
The Cap'n was a gratifying sort. He immediately saw Nippy's good points—the beautiful brightness of his eyes, the fine spots on his back, the superiority of his intellect. Nippy, in turn, winked his approval at the Cap'n as if they shared many a joke.
“As fine a toad as ever sat a rock or sailed the sea,” avowed the Cap'n enthusiastically. “By the bye, young man, how'd you like to take Nippy on a cruise with me?”
Lemmy clutched the wall and gazed for one electric second into the Cap'n's eyes. It wasn't a joke!“Can we start now?” Lemmy asked breathlessly.
The Cap'n bestirred himself instantly.
“It's high time to be off. Swing yourself down, and I'll catch you.”
Lemmy quickly tucked Nippy into the little perforated box he always kept in his pocket for him; then he swung himself from the wall straight into the Cap'n's arms.
It seemed so natural and safe to be walking along Outside, holding a Majishun's hand.
Lemmy's legs took on a fine stride.
Down the hill they went, never looking back at those gray walls, for their eyes were fixed on the great lake, Superior, pulsing now under the wonder touch of the southwest wind, shimmering with all the colors of the opal. There lay the boats, poking up their brightly painted smokestacks for all to see. Down, down, and down—such a short way, and yet, the wonderful farness of it!
“Here we are at the docks—the Northern Star waiting for us,” the Cap'n announced presently.
Lemmy swung along a little faster, for there in full view were the high ore docks stretching far, far into the water. Of course, they had been “majicked” there; that explained their wonder.
The Cap'n lifted him onto his shoulder and walked along the abutment to one of the biggest freighters nudging the end of the dock.
“All aboard the Northern Star,” the Cap'n said, giving him a boost up the ladder.
Lemmy climbed like a little monkey, as fast as he could, for fear he wouldn't really get aboard.
Straight up to the bridge the Cap'n took him. “You can see us load up from here. Keep your eyes open, and many a sight you'll see.” Lemmy heard the Cap'n's words as if in a dream. He looked about him in wonder.
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 8 / 12
# chapter_page: 8
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
“Can we start now?” Lemmy asked breathlessly.
The Cap'n bestirred himself instantly.
“It's high time to be off. Swing yourself down, and I'll catch you.”
Lemmy quickly tucked Nippy into the little perforated box he always kept in his pocket for him; then he swung himself from the wall straight into the Cap'n's arms.
It seemed so natural and safe to be walking along Outside, holding a Majishun's hand.
Lemmy's legs took on a fine stride.
Down the hill they went, never looking back at those gray walls, for their eyes were fixed on the great lake, Superior, pulsing now under the wonder touch of the southwest wind, shimmering with all the colors of the opal. There lay the boats, poking up their brightly painted smokestacks for all to see. Down, down, and down—such a short way, and yet, the wonderful farness of it!
“Here we are at the docks—the Northern Star waiting for us,” the Cap'n announced presently.
Lemmy swung along a little faster, for there in full view were the high ore docks stretching far, far into the water. Of course, they had been “majicked” there; that explained their wonder.
The Cap'n lifted him onto his shoulder and walked along the abutment to one of the biggest freighters nudging the end of the dock.
“All aboard the Northern Star,” the Cap'n said, giving him a boost up the ladder.
Lemmy climbed like a little monkey, as fast as he could, for fear he wouldn't really get aboard.
Straight up to the bridge the Cap'n took him. “You can see us load up from here. Keep your eyes open, and many a sight you'll see.” Lemmy heard the Cap'n's words as if in a dream. He looked about him in wonder.High on the dock, he could see cars full of reddish, yellowish chunks that the Cap'n called iron ore. Hurrying about everywhere were the dock workers, smudged from head to foot with pigment that gave them the look of pirates. With quick calls, these men loosened the doors in the bottoms of the cars to let the ore rattle down into the big pockets in the dock. But closer at hand, something more engrossing was happening. Deckhands aboard the Northern Star were opening the hatches. All along the freighter's deck, the hatchways yawned, ready for the load of ore. There was a great rattle of cables from above, and down came the chutes into the hatchways. Lemmy could see the men on the dock poking long poles into the pockets to start the ore sliding.
The first chunks struck the bottom of the hold with a thunderous noise, and then heavy masses came sliding down the chutes with a steady, rushing sound that thrilled Lemmy like nothing he had ever heard. It wasn't long before the big freighter was fully loaded, and one after another, the long chutes were drawn back into place against the dock. When the men began closing the hatchways, the Cap'n took Lemmy below to see his quarters.
The first thing Lemmy saw upon entering was an old sea chest.
“Have a look in,” the Cap'n suggested, following Lemmy's gaze. “It's chock-full of stuff from everywhere.”
He threw back the lid, and Lemmy caught a whiff of tar, tobacco, and salt—an indescribable smell that suggested untold adventure. The chest was indeed chock-full of all manner of wonderful things: compasses and shells, quadrants and gaudy strips of silk, battered old books, squinty-eyed monkeys carved from ivory, long strings of many-colored beads, chains of silver, copper, and gold all strung with bangles—there was no end to the treasure store.
The Cap'n took a cutlass from the chest and balanced it on his nose as easily as he had poised the coin there.
“See here, young 'un,” he said suddenly. “You're old enough to start learning magic.”
A golden mist swam before Lemmy's eyes.
“You—you mean to learn to be a majishun?”
“A sort of A-B-C magician, yes. Here, take this!”
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 9 / 12
# chapter_page: 9
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
High on the dock, he could see cars full of reddish, yellowish chunks that the Cap'n called iron ore. Hurrying about everywhere were the dock workers, smudged from head to foot with pigment that gave them the look of pirates. With quick calls, these men loosened the doors in the bottoms of the cars to let the ore rattle down into the big pockets in the dock. But closer at hand, something more engrossing was happening. Deckhands aboard the Northern Star were opening the hatches. All along the freighter's deck, the hatchways yawned, ready for the load of ore. There was a great rattle of cables from above, and down came the chutes into the hatchways. Lemmy could see the men on the dock poking long poles into the pockets to start the ore sliding.
The first chunks struck the bottom of the hold with a thunderous noise, and then heavy masses came sliding down the chutes with a steady, rushing sound that thrilled Lemmy like nothing he had ever heard. It wasn't long before the big freighter was fully loaded, and one after another, the long chutes were drawn back into place against the dock. When the men began closing the hatchways, the Cap'n took Lemmy below to see his quarters.
The first thing Lemmy saw upon entering was an old sea chest.
“Have a look in,” the Cap'n suggested, following Lemmy's gaze. “It's chock-full of stuff from everywhere.”
He threw back the lid, and Lemmy caught a whiff of tar, tobacco, and salt—an indescribable smell that suggested untold adventure. The chest was indeed chock-full of all manner of wonderful things: compasses and shells, quadrants and gaudy strips of silk, battered old books, squinty-eyed monkeys carved from ivory, long strings of many-colored beads, chains of silver, copper, and gold all strung with bangles—there was no end to the treasure store.
The Cap'n took a cutlass from the chest and balanced it on his nose as easily as he had poised the coin there.
“See here, young 'un,” he said suddenly. “You're old enough to start learning magic.”
A golden mist swam before Lemmy's eyes.
“You—you mean to learn to be a majishun?”
“A sort of A-B-C magician, yes. Here, take this!”
He thrust into Lemmy's hand a carved ebony ring. “I'll show you how to make it disappear.”
Very patiently, the Cap'n initiated Lemmy into the rudiments of magic, teaching him how to exhibit the ring with a flourish before imaginary spectators, then with an adroit pass to make it disappear until he chose, with a swift movement, to hold it once more in full view between thumb and finger. Mastering the old trick, which depended only on a little dexterity in sleight-of-hand, filled Lemmy with enormous pride. He glowed with delight at the Cap'n's applause, mingled with the easily imagined handclapping from the invisible audience. He was lifted far, far away from ordinary things. He was a novice in a new world of unending mystery and delight. He tried to thank the Cap'n, but his gratitude overwhelmed him. He could only press the ring back reverently into the Cap'n's hand. There were no words for such a thing.
Then came a noise at the door. At the Cap'n's summons, in walked a burly fellow as big as the Cap'n himself.
“Look at the young 'un, Andy McDonald—he's off with us tonight,” the Cap'n told him.
“Bless my soul,” Andy McDonald exclaimed, tousling Lemmy's hair, “the Northern Star's in luck.”
“Now Andy'll find a proper place for Nippy, and I'll be off on a bit of business before we set out.” The Cap'n left him with Andy McDonald, who knew exactly where to catch flies for Nippy, where to get pebbles to his liking, and where to find just the sort of safe, dampish corner where he could voyage happily. McDonald was very ingenious at devising quarters that would give Nippy plenty of room yet keep him in bounds.
“He might jump overboard in his sleep, you know, dreamin' like,” Andy McDonald remarked as he screened Nippy in.
As soon as Nippy was settled, Andy gave a shrill whistle that brought Chink, the rat terrier mascot of the boat, tearing in to make Lemmy's acquaintance.
“He's got a collar with spikes on it,” Lemmy cried excitedly. “And a piece of his ear's nipped off!”
“He gets scarred up, Chink does, but he never gets licked. Don't let him get in a row with Nippy.”
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 10 / 12
# chapter_page: 10
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
He thrust into Lemmy's hand a carved ebony ring. “I'll show you how to make it disappear.”
Very patiently, the Cap'n initiated Lemmy into the rudiments of magic, teaching him how to exhibit the ring with a flourish before imaginary spectators, then with an adroit pass to make it disappear until he chose, with a swift movement, to hold it once more in full view between thumb and finger. Mastering the old trick, which depended only on a little dexterity in sleight-of-hand, filled Lemmy with enormous pride. He glowed with delight at the Cap'n's applause, mingled with the easily imagined handclapping from the invisible audience. He was lifted far, far away from ordinary things. He was a novice in a new world of unending mystery and delight. He tried to thank the Cap'n, but his gratitude overwhelmed him. He could only press the ring back reverently into the Cap'n's hand. There were no words for such a thing.
Then came a noise at the door. At the Cap'n's summons, in walked a burly fellow as big as the Cap'n himself.
“Look at the young 'un, Andy McDonald—he's off with us tonight,” the Cap'n told him.
“Bless my soul,” Andy McDonald exclaimed, tousling Lemmy's hair, “the Northern Star's in luck.”
“Now Andy'll find a proper place for Nippy, and I'll be off on a bit of business before we set out.” The Cap'n left him with Andy McDonald, who knew exactly where to catch flies for Nippy, where to get pebbles to his liking, and where to find just the sort of safe, dampish corner where he could voyage happily. McDonald was very ingenious at devising quarters that would give Nippy plenty of room yet keep him in bounds.
“He might jump overboard in his sleep, you know, dreamin' like,” Andy McDonald remarked as he screened Nippy in.
As soon as Nippy was settled, Andy gave a shrill whistle that brought Chink, the rat terrier mascot of the boat, tearing in to make Lemmy's acquaintance.
“He's got a collar with spikes on it,” Lemmy cried excitedly. “And a piece of his ear's nipped off!”
“He gets scarred up, Chink does, but he never gets licked. Don't let him get in a row with Nippy.”How could Lemmy know that during these enchanted moments with Andy McDonald, the Cap'n was talking with Miss Border about “parental history,” “hereditary instincts,” and all the rest of the ’Dopters' secrets?
It was at the table that Lemmy saw the Cap'n again—the head of a feast fit for such a Majishun. Lemmy tried hard not to gobble, but the chicken was oh, so tender, and he had never before tasted what the Cap'n called “kumquats.” There was so much that he simply couldn't eat it all. He finally gave up trying when the Cap'n assured him there would be more tomorrow.
Up on the bridge again, Lemmy watched the busy engine haul in the cables that held the freighter to the dock. A capable little tug, which the Cap'n called familiarly “Sultana,” came to help them head the boat into the channel.
“We're off,” cried the Cap'n as the Sultana chug-chugged away, while with slow majesty the Northern Star made its way out into the lake.
“Look behind at the Diamond Necklace,” Andy called to him. Turning to look back, Lemmy saw the Allouez ore docks glittering, pulsing in the fast-gathering purple of the night. On the hill, electric signs blazed out fantastically: here a red sun rising over a green hill, and farther on a multicolored fan opening and closing with a bewildering flash; then came a comical, twinkling bucket of shiny paint that seemed to bubble over. Past the signs came rows and rows of lights set regularly like soldiers.
The Northern Star was moving faster now, passing between the big piers of the canal, under the Aërial Bridge, past the lighthouse with its revolving signals.
A big passenger boat coming into the harbor passed them swiftly, giving two long whistles in greeting. Lemmy caught the tinkle of music and the sound of people laughing on board—then suddenly they were gone.
Out—out—past all the lights went the Northern Star, straight into the silver-white moon path stretching endlessly across the water.
Lemmy looked up at the winking stars and leaned comfortably back against the Cap'n's arm.
“I'm safe now from the ’Dopters,” he whispered exultantly.
“We've given them the slip,” the Cap'n assured him. “They'll never get you now.”
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 11 / 12
# chapter_page: 11
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
How could Lemmy know that during these enchanted moments with Andy McDonald, the Cap'n was talking with Miss Border about “parental history,” “hereditary instincts,” and all the rest of the ’Dopters' secrets?
It was at the table that Lemmy saw the Cap'n again—the head of a feast fit for such a Majishun. Lemmy tried hard not to gobble, but the chicken was oh, so tender, and he had never before tasted what the Cap'n called “kumquats.” There was so much that he simply couldn't eat it all. He finally gave up trying when the Cap'n assured him there would be more tomorrow.
Up on the bridge again, Lemmy watched the busy engine haul in the cables that held the freighter to the dock. A capable little tug, which the Cap'n called familiarly “Sultana,” came to help them head the boat into the channel.
“We're off,” cried the Cap'n as the Sultana chug-chugged away, while with slow majesty the Northern Star made its way out into the lake.
“Look behind at the Diamond Necklace,” Andy called to him. Turning to look back, Lemmy saw the Allouez ore docks glittering, pulsing in the fast-gathering purple of the night. On the hill, electric signs blazed out fantastically: here a red sun rising over a green hill, and farther on a multicolored fan opening and closing with a bewildering flash; then came a comical, twinkling bucket of shiny paint that seemed to bubble over. Past the signs came rows and rows of lights set regularly like soldiers.
The Northern Star was moving faster now, passing between the big piers of the canal, under the Aërial Bridge, past the lighthouse with its revolving signals.
A big passenger boat coming into the harbor passed them swiftly, giving two long whistles in greeting. Lemmy caught the tinkle of music and the sound of people laughing on board—then suddenly they were gone.
Out—out—past all the lights went the Northern Star, straight into the silver-white moon path stretching endlessly across the water.
Lemmy looked up at the winking stars and leaned comfortably back against the Cap'n's arm.
“I'm safe now from the ’Dopters,” he whispered exultantly.
“We've given them the slip,” the Cap'n assured him. “They'll never get you now.”Dreamily, with his head upon the Cap'n's shoulder, Lemmy happily fingered the ebony ring that had somehow “got majicked” into his pocket.
~ Aileen Cleveland Higgins
# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-261c295e1ae1446ab0063652d111fc3f
# book_title: The 'Dopters
# chapter_id: 1-the-dopters
# chapter_title: The 'Dopters
# book_page: 12 / 12
# chapter_page: 12
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
# reading_structure: unknown
# render_mode: prose
Dreamily, with his head upon the Cap'n's shoulder, Lemmy happily fingered the ebony ring that had somehow “got majicked” into his pocket.
~ Aileen Cleveland Higgins
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