had not saved the game for the Zachary P. Taylor High School after all. He had lost it by one bug. Just one little old bug. And Stewy would never let him forget it, either.
Hack opened Otis’s box. “Look at that dragonfly,” he said. “That’s a beauty.”
Otis felt a little better. At least Hack Battleson admired his dragonfly. That was something. Otis stepped over Spud and sat down on the steps while Hack counted his insects. “Twenty-nine,” said Hack. “You’re one short.”
“Ha!” said Stewy. “So you didn’t have thirty at all.”
You needn’t rub it in, thought Otis, as his eye fell on Stewy’s collection. “Hey, wait a minute!” he shouted. “Neither do you. You’ve got a spider and they don’t count. They’ve got eight legs.”
“That’s right,” agreed Hack. “If they have eight legs, they aren’t insects. Let’s have another look at that box.”
Surely Hack would take Otis’s collection now because of the dragonfly. Otis waited anxiously. Spud stood up on three legs to scratch. As Otis watched the dog, he was suddenly stunned by an idea. If only Stewy didn’t think of it at the same time! Otis quickly looked over Stewy’s collection. No, Stewy didn’t have one. That made his idea even better.
But Stewy had an idea of his own. “I know what,” Otis heard him say to Hack. “I’ll pull off a couple of its legs. Then it will be a six-legged bug.”
Otis parted Spud’s coarse hair and began to search for something.
“That wouldn’t work,” objected Hack, to Stewy’s suggestion.
Otis’s thumb and forefinger closed on something that he quickly popped into the jar.
“I don’t see why,” Stewy was saying. “I bet the teacher would think it was some new kind of bug.”
“She’s too smart for that,” said Hack. “Somebody tried it already.”
Then Otis spoke. “Here’s my thirtieth insect,” he said, as he reached into the jar.
“What is it?” asked Hack.
“A flea,” answered Otis.
“A flea!” Hack began to laugh, but he took the tiny insect and added it to Otis’s collection. Then he closed the box. “Thanks a lot,” he said. “I guess I ought to get a pretty good grade on this collection, even if I am late handing it in.”
Stewy turned to Otis. “Where did you get that flea?” he demanded.
“Off Spud,” said Otis.
“That’s what I thought.” Stewy was angry. “That was my flea! You took my flea.”
“Don’t you wish you’d thought of it?” jeered Otis. “So long, Hack.”
“Spud’s fleas are my fleas and you didn’t have any right to take it,” said Stewy, as Hack went into the house. “It was just plain cheating, that’s what it was.”
“Aw, you’re just mad because you weren’t smart enough to think of it first,” taunted Otis.
“Otis Spofford, I’ll…I’ll…” Stewy sputtered.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” yelled Otis, and ran down the street. And as he ran he was no longer Otis Spofford running home to dinner. He was Five-yard Spofford, running ninety-nine and a half yards for a touchdown to save the big game for the Zachary P. Taylor High School.
5
Otis, the Unfriendly Indian
O ne Friday morning Otis left his apartment house a little bit late for school, as usual. The first snow of the year had fallen during the night. The bite of frosty air on his cheeks and the sight of his neighborhood so changed by the blanket of snow made Otis feel that something exciting was going to happen.
This morning Otis was an Indian. He was thinking of a movie he had seen last Saturday at the Kiddie Matinee at the Laurelwood Theater. Instead of walking through the snow on the sidewalk, he slipped from tree to tree. When he had crept silently through the forest for a block, he saw Ellen and Austine ahead of him. He stopped being an Indian and became a boy again. He began to run.
Ellen looked over her shoulder. “Here he comes,” she cried, as she grabbed Austine’s hand and started to run.
Otis ran after
Hack opened Otis’s box. “Look at that dragonfly,” he said. “That’s a beauty.”
Otis felt a little better. At least Hack Battleson admired his dragonfly. That was something. Otis stepped over Spud and sat down on the steps while Hack counted his insects. “Twenty-nine,” said Hack. “You’re one short.”
“Ha!” said Stewy. “So you didn’t have thirty at all.”
You needn’t rub it in, thought Otis, as his eye fell on Stewy’s collection. “Hey, wait a minute!” he shouted. “Neither do you. You’ve got a spider and they don’t count. They’ve got eight legs.”
“That’s right,” agreed Hack. “If they have eight legs, they aren’t insects. Let’s have another look at that box.”
Surely Hack would take Otis’s collection now because of the dragonfly. Otis waited anxiously. Spud stood up on three legs to scratch. As Otis watched the dog, he was suddenly stunned by an idea. If only Stewy didn’t think of it at the same time! Otis quickly looked over Stewy’s collection. No, Stewy didn’t have one. That made his idea even better.
But Stewy had an idea of his own. “I know what,” Otis heard him say to Hack. “I’ll pull off a couple of its legs. Then it will be a six-legged bug.”
Otis parted Spud’s coarse hair and began to search for something.
“That wouldn’t work,” objected Hack, to Stewy’s suggestion.
Otis’s thumb and forefinger closed on something that he quickly popped into the jar.
“I don’t see why,” Stewy was saying. “I bet the teacher would think it was some new kind of bug.”
“She’s too smart for that,” said Hack. “Somebody tried it already.”
Then Otis spoke. “Here’s my thirtieth insect,” he said, as he reached into the jar.
“What is it?” asked Hack.
“A flea,” answered Otis.
“A flea!” Hack began to laugh, but he took the tiny insect and added it to Otis’s collection. Then he closed the box. “Thanks a lot,” he said. “I guess I ought to get a pretty good grade on this collection, even if I am late handing it in.”
Stewy turned to Otis. “Where did you get that flea?” he demanded.
“Off Spud,” said Otis.
“That’s what I thought.” Stewy was angry. “That was my flea! You took my flea.”
“Don’t you wish you’d thought of it?” jeered Otis. “So long, Hack.”
“Spud’s fleas are my fleas and you didn’t have any right to take it,” said Stewy, as Hack went into the house. “It was just plain cheating, that’s what it was.”
“Aw, you’re just mad because you weren’t smart enough to think of it first,” taunted Otis.
“Otis Spofford, I’ll…I’ll…” Stewy sputtered.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” yelled Otis, and ran down the street. And as he ran he was no longer Otis Spofford running home to dinner. He was Five-yard Spofford, running ninety-nine and a half yards for a touchdown to save the big game for the Zachary P. Taylor High School.
5
Otis, the Unfriendly Indian
O ne Friday morning Otis left his apartment house a little bit late for school, as usual. The first snow of the year had fallen during the night. The bite of frosty air on his cheeks and the sight of his neighborhood so changed by the blanket of snow made Otis feel that something exciting was going to happen.
This morning Otis was an Indian. He was thinking of a movie he had seen last Saturday at the Kiddie Matinee at the Laurelwood Theater. Instead of walking through the snow on the sidewalk, he slipped from tree to tree. When he had crept silently through the forest for a block, he saw Ellen and Austine ahead of him. He stopped being an Indian and became a boy again. He began to run.
Ellen looked over her shoulder. “Here he comes,” she cried, as she grabbed Austine’s hand and started to run.
Otis ran after
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