Mr. Popper's Penguins (9 page)

Mr. Popper hurried out to catch the drivers.

When he returned, it was too late. The Popper Performing Penguins had already discovered the Swenson Seals.

“Papa, I can’t look!” cried the children.

There was a sound of dreadful confusion on the stage, the audience was in an uproar, and the curtain was quickly rung down.

When the Poppers rushed onto the stage, both penguins and seals had found the stairway leading to the Swenson dressing-room and were on their way upstairs.

“I can’t bear to think what’s happening up there,” said Mr. Popper, with a shudder.

Mr. Swenson only laughed. “I hope your birds were insured, Popper,” he said. “How much were they worth? Well, let’s go up and look.”

“You go up, Papa,” said Mrs. Popper. “Bill, you run out of the theater and call the police to come and try to save some of our penguins.”

“I’ll go get the fire department,” said Janie.

When the firemen, with a great clanging, came and set up their ladders so that they could get in through the window of Mr. Swenson’s dressing room, they were a little vexed to find that there was no fire at all. However, when they found six black-mustached seals, sitting barking in the middle of the room, with twelve penguins parading gaily around them in a square, they felt better.

Then the policemen came in their patrol, and climbed up the ladder which the firemen had left against the building. By the time they too came through the window, they could scarcely believe their eyes. For the firemen had put firemen’s helmets on the penguins, which made the delighted birds look very silly and girlish.

Seeing the firemen so friendly with the penguins, the policemen naturally took sides with the seals and put policemen’s caps on them. The seals looked very fierce, with their long black mustaches and black faces underneath.

The penguins under their firemen’s helmets were parading in front of the policemen, while the seals, in their policemen’s caps, were barking at the firemen, when Mr. Popper and Mr. Swenson finally opened the door.

Mr. Popper sat down. His relief was so great that for a moment he could not speak.

“You policemen had better get your hats off my seals now,” said Mr. Swenson. “I got to go down on the stage and finish the act now.” Then he and his six seals slipped out of the room, with a few parting barks.

“Well, good-bye, ducks,” said the firemen, regretfully removing their helmets from the penguins and putting them on their own heads. Then they disappeared down the ladder. The penguins, of course, wanted to follow, but Mr. Popper held them back.

Just then the door flew open, and the theater manager burst into the room.

“Hold that man,” he shouted to the policemen, pointing at Mr. Popper. “I have a warrant for his arrest.”

“Who, me?” said Mr. Popper, in a daze. “What have I done?”

“You’ve broken into my theater and thrown the place into a panic, that’s what you’ve done. You’re a disturber of the peace.”

“But I’m Mr. Popper, and these are my Performing Penguins, famous from coast to coast.”

“I don’t care who you are, you haven’t any business in my theater.”

“But Mr. Greenbaum is going to pay us five thousand dollars for a week at the Regal.”

“Mr. Greenbaum’s theater is the Royal, not the Regal. You’ve come to the wrong theater. Anyway, out you go, you and your Performing Penguins. The patrol is waiting outside.”

S
O MR. POPPER,
with Captain Cook, Greta, Columbus, Louisa, Nelson, Jenny, Magellan, Adelina, Scott, Isabella, Ferdinand, and Victoria, was bundled into the patrol wagon and hustled off to the police station.

None of his pleas could move the desk sergeant.

“That theater manager is pretty mad at the way you busted into his theater, so I’m holding you. I’m going to give you all a nice quiet cell — unless you furnish bail. I’m putting the bail at five hundred dollars for you and one hundred dollars for each of the birds.”

Of course Mr. Popper did not have that much money about him. Neither did Mrs. Popper when they telephoned her at the hotel. The hotel bill was paid for several days ahead, but she had no cash. The check for the final week’s salary was not due until the end of the week. Indeed, it now looked as if the Poppers would never see that check, since they could not get the penguins out of jail long enough to put on their act at the Royal Theater.

If only they could have got in touch with Mr. Greenbaum, Mr. Popper knew, that kind man would have got them out. But Mr. Greenbaum was somewhere in Hollywood, out on the Pacific Coast, and the Poppers had no idea how to reach him.

It was very dull for the birds in jail. Wednesday came and there was still no word from Mr. Greenbaum. Thursday, and the birds began to droop. It was soon apparent that the lack of exercise, combined with the heat, might prove too much for them. There were no more tricks or merry games. Even the younger birds sat all day in dismal silence, and Mr. Popper could not cheer them up.

Mr. Popper had a feeling that Mr. Greenbaum would probably turn up by the end of the week, to see about renewing the contract. But Friday passed, without any news of him.

Saturday morning Mr. Popper got up very early and smoothed his hair. Then he dusted off the penguins as well as he could, for he wanted everything to look as presentable as possible, in case Mr. Greenbaum should appear.

About ten o’clock there was a sound of footsteps in the corridor, and a jingling of keys, and the door of the cell was opened.

“You’re free, Mr. Popper. There’s a friend of yours here.”

Mr. Popper stepped out into the light with the penguins.

“You’re barely in time, Mr. Greenbaum,” he was about to say.

Then, as his eyes became accustomed to the light, he looked again.

It was not Mr. Greenbaum who stood there.

It was a great, bearded man in a splendid uniform. Smiling, he held out his hand to Mr. Popper.

“Mr. Popper,” he said, “I am Admiral Drake.”

“Admiral Drake!” gasped Mr. Popper. “Not back from the South Pole!”

“Yes,” said the Admiral, “the Drake Antarctic Expedition ship returned yesterday. You should have seen the reception New York gave us. You can read about it in today’s paper. But I read about the trouble you were having over the penguins, and so here I am. I have a long story to tell you.”

“Could we go to the hotel and talk about it?” asked Mr. Popper. “My wife will be anxious to see us back.”

“Certainly,” said the Admiral. And when they were all settled in the Popper rooms at the hotel, with the penguins clustering round to listen, Admiral Drake began:—

“Naturally, when I knew that I was coming back to America, I often thought about the man to whom I had sent the penguin. It takes us a long time to hear things, down there, and I often wondered how you and the bird were getting along. Last night, at the Mayor’s dinner for us, I heard about the wonderful trained penguin act you had been putting on all over the country. This morning I picked up the paper, and the first thing I read was that Mr. Popper and his twelve penguins were still being held in jail. But
twelve
penguins, Mr. Popper — how on earth—”

Then Mr. Popper told how Greta had arrived to keep Captain Cook from being lonely, and how the little penguins had grown, and how the clever little band had saved the day for the Poppers, when things looked bad.

“It’s amazing,” said Admiral Drake. “I’ve seen a lot of penguins in my time, but never such educated ones as these. It certainly shows what patience and training can do.

“But now to get to my real point, Mr. Popper. You probably know that I have explored the North Pole as well as the South Pole?”

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Popper respectfully, “I have read books about both your Arctic and your Antarctic expeditions.”

“Well, then,” said the Admiral, “maybe you know why we explorers prefer the South Pole?”

“Could it be on account of the penguins, sir?” asked Janie, who had been listening very hard.

Admiral Drake patted her head. “Yes, my dear. Those long Polar nights get pretty dull when you have no pets to play with. Of course, there are polar bears up there, but you can’t play with
them.
Nobody knows why there are no penguins at the North Pole. For a long time the United States Government has been wanting me to lead an expedition up there for the purpose of establishing a breed of penguins. I must come to the point, Mr. Popper. You’ve had such remarkable success with these birds of yours, why not let me take them to the North Pole and start a race of penguins there?”

Just then Mr. Greenbaum and another gentleman were announced. They shook hands all around and were introduced to the Admiral.

“Well, Popper,” said Mr. Greenbaum, “too bad about that mix-up over the theaters. But never mind. Here’s Mr. Klein, who owns the Colossal Film Company. He’s going to make your fortune. You’ll be a poor man no longer, Mr. Popper.”

“Poor!” said Mr. Popper, “I’m not poor. These birds have been earning us five thousand dollars a week.”

“Oh, five thousand dollars,” said Mr. Klein. “What’s that? Pin money. I want to put those birds in the movies, Mr. Popper. We’ve got the story department working on stories for them already. Why, I’ll put each of those birds under a contract that will keep you and the missus on Easy Street the rest of your lives.”

“Papa,” whispered Mrs. Popper, “I don’t want to live on Easy Street. I want to go back to Proudfoot Avenue.”

“Better consider, Mr. Popper,” said the Admiral. “I can’t offer you anything like that.”

“You say those men at the North Pole get lonely because there are no penguins?” asked Mr. Popper.

“Very lonely,” said the Admiral.

“But if there were penguins up there, mightn’t the polar bears eat them?”

“Oh, ordinary penguins, yes,” said the Admiral judiciously; “but not such highly-trained birds as yours, Mr. Popper. They could outwit any polar bear, I guess.”

It was now Mr. Klein’s turn to speak.

“In every moving picture house in America little children would have the pleasure of seeing stories acted by the Popper Performing Penguins,” he said.

“Of course if we succeeded in establishing the breed at the North Pole,” said the Admiral, “the name might have to be changed a little. I imagine that hundreds of years from now scientists would be calling them the Popper Arctic Penguins.”

Mr. Popper was silent for a moment.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I want to thank you both. I’ll give you my decision tomorrow.”

I
T WAS A
hard decision to make. Long after the visitors had gone, Mr. and Mrs. Popper sat and discussed what was best for everybody. Mrs. Popper could see the advantages of both offers, and she pointed these out, without trying to influence him.

“I feel that the penguins are really your responsibility,” she said, “and you must make up your mind.”

It was a pale and haggard Mr. Popper who was ready to announce his decision the next day.

“Mr. Klein,” he said, “I want you to know how much I appreciate your offer of putting my birds in the movies. But I am afraid I have to refuse. I do not believe the life in Hollywood would be good for the penguins.”

Then he turned to Admiral Drake. “Admiral Drake, I am going to give you the birds. In doing this, I am considering the birds first of all. I know that they have been comfortable and happy with me. Lately, though, with the excitement and the warm weather, I’ve been worried about them. The birds have done so much for me that I have to do what is best for them. After all, they belong in a cold climate. And then I can’t help being sorry for those men up at the North Pole, without any penguins to help them pass the time.”

“Your Government will thank you, Mr. Popper,” answered the Admiral.

“Congratulations, Admiral,” said Mr. Klein. “Maybe you’re right at that, Popper. Hollywood might have been too much for the birds. I wish you’d let me make one short movie of them here in New York, though, before they go. Just some pictures of the sort of thing they do on the stage, you know. We’d show the film everywhere with an announcement that these are the famous Popper Penguins that are being taken to the North Pole by Admiral Drake of the United States Arctic Penguin Founding Expedition, or something like that.”