Read Online Wizard of Washington Square by Jane Yolen - Free Book Online
Authors: Jane Yolen
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She exchanged the DRAGONRY sign for the WARREN sign. Then they hurried back to the place where the warren sign used to be and hung the sign DRAGONRY in its place. Just as Leilah was climbing down, they heard Pickwell’s labored breathing coming down the tunnel.
“There,” Leilah whispered to David with satisfaction, “no one in his right mind would go to a dragonry.”
“Well, maybe he’s not in his right mind,” said David. “Or maybe he can’t read.”
“We’ll soon find out,” said Leilah grimly.
The children drew back into the tunnel that led to the warren and hugged the damp, mossy wall. They were well into the shadows and could not be seen.
“If worse comes to worst,” David said, “we can still try to trip him.”
Under the far lantern light they could see Pickwell making his slow way toward them.
“Shh, don’t make a sound,” said David.
“I’m too scared to,” Leilah whispered back.
At last Pickwell came to the fork. He glanced at the signs and dismissed dragonry and irt with quick snorts. He turned down the tunnel marked warren.
“It worked!” Leilah whispered when Pickwell had disappeared. “He’s headed for the dragonry.”
David clapped her on the back. “That was brilliant!”
Just then they heard a small splash followed by a loud yelp. David grabbed Leilah’s hand. “Let’s go and see what’s happening,” he said.
“Happening?” said Leilah, pulling away. “What’s happening is that we’re getting out of here.”
But David had tiptoed down the tunnel. When Leilah got to him, he was standing with his hand over his mouth.
“It was big and white and had teeth,” he said. “I think…I think it was an alligator. It took Old Pickleface by the seat of his pants and crawled into the water. He was waving his umbrella about and sputtering. Pickwell, I mean. Not the alligator.”
Leilah nodded. She had heard about the big white alligators that were supposed to live in the sewers below New York. Once they had been baby alligators sent as presents to the city’s children from grandparents and rich uncles who lived in Florida. But the mothers had flushed them—the alligators, not the rich uncles—down the toilets. And so the alligators grew and flourished in the dark world beneath the streets, growing fat on sewer rats and white in the always-dark world.
“Maybe we should rescue him?” Leilah asked tentatively.
“Are you crazy?” asked David, and for a moment he really believed she was. “Then they’ll get us too. The alligators.”
“But we can’t just let him…die or something,” Leilah protested.
“Why not?” David said bitterly. “Look what he was going to do with D. Dog. And the table. And us.”
“Well, that is hardly cause to let him die,” said Leilah. “I think we’d better go and find out whether the Wizard can help.” It wasn’t a statement. It was a command.
“Nonsense,” said the Wizard after he heard about Mr. Pickwell’s predicament. “The alligators won’t eat him. They may be only alligators, but they do have taste.”
And so it was, some two hours later, that Mr. Pickwell climbed out of a manhole cover on Forty-second Street and Broadway. He was soaking wet, scratched, and fuming. His temper was as foul as his clothes, for he had traveled the length and breadth of the New York sewers in the alligator’s mouth. And when a policeman arrested him for, of all things, obstructing traffic, Mr. Pickwell tried to hit the officer with his now broken umbrella. It was another hour before Mr. Pickwell’s papers had dried out enough so that he could prove to the police sergeant at the station house that he was a Very Important Personage. By then, his moustache was completely unwaxed and wilted, and he looked very little like the picture in his wallet. He finally phoned his lawyer, who paid his bond and got him out of jail for the night, though he would still have to return to stand trial for assaulting a police officer. Mr. Joseph
“There,” Leilah whispered to David with satisfaction, “no one in his right mind would go to a dragonry.”
“Well, maybe he’s not in his right mind,” said David. “Or maybe he can’t read.”
“We’ll soon find out,” said Leilah grimly.
The children drew back into the tunnel that led to the warren and hugged the damp, mossy wall. They were well into the shadows and could not be seen.
“If worse comes to worst,” David said, “we can still try to trip him.”
Under the far lantern light they could see Pickwell making his slow way toward them.
“Shh, don’t make a sound,” said David.
“I’m too scared to,” Leilah whispered back.
At last Pickwell came to the fork. He glanced at the signs and dismissed dragonry and irt with quick snorts. He turned down the tunnel marked warren.
“It worked!” Leilah whispered when Pickwell had disappeared. “He’s headed for the dragonry.”
David clapped her on the back. “That was brilliant!”
Just then they heard a small splash followed by a loud yelp. David grabbed Leilah’s hand. “Let’s go and see what’s happening,” he said.
“Happening?” said Leilah, pulling away. “What’s happening is that we’re getting out of here.”
But David had tiptoed down the tunnel. When Leilah got to him, he was standing with his hand over his mouth.
“It was big and white and had teeth,” he said. “I think…I think it was an alligator. It took Old Pickleface by the seat of his pants and crawled into the water. He was waving his umbrella about and sputtering. Pickwell, I mean. Not the alligator.”
Leilah nodded. She had heard about the big white alligators that were supposed to live in the sewers below New York. Once they had been baby alligators sent as presents to the city’s children from grandparents and rich uncles who lived in Florida. But the mothers had flushed them—the alligators, not the rich uncles—down the toilets. And so the alligators grew and flourished in the dark world beneath the streets, growing fat on sewer rats and white in the always-dark world.
“Maybe we should rescue him?” Leilah asked tentatively.
“Are you crazy?” asked David, and for a moment he really believed she was. “Then they’ll get us too. The alligators.”
“But we can’t just let him…die or something,” Leilah protested.
“Why not?” David said bitterly. “Look what he was going to do with D. Dog. And the table. And us.”
“Well, that is hardly cause to let him die,” said Leilah. “I think we’d better go and find out whether the Wizard can help.” It wasn’t a statement. It was a command.
“Nonsense,” said the Wizard after he heard about Mr. Pickwell’s predicament. “The alligators won’t eat him. They may be only alligators, but they do have taste.”
And so it was, some two hours later, that Mr. Pickwell climbed out of a manhole cover on Forty-second Street and Broadway. He was soaking wet, scratched, and fuming. His temper was as foul as his clothes, for he had traveled the length and breadth of the New York sewers in the alligator’s mouth. And when a policeman arrested him for, of all things, obstructing traffic, Mr. Pickwell tried to hit the officer with his now broken umbrella. It was another hour before Mr. Pickwell’s papers had dried out enough so that he could prove to the police sergeant at the station house that he was a Very Important Personage. By then, his moustache was completely unwaxed and wilted, and he looked very little like the picture in his wallet. He finally phoned his lawyer, who paid his bond and got him out of jail for the night, though he would still have to return to stand trial for assaulting a police officer. Mr. Joseph
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