Henry and Ribsy (Henry Huggins #3)(22)

“N-no.” Henry tried to keep from shivering. Only ten o’clock in the morning. It seemed as if they had been there forever. Why, it wasn’t even lunchtime! If only he could put his head down someplace for just a few minutes…

Suddenly Mr. Grumbie uttered a noise that sounded like “Wup!”

“Got something?” Mr. Huggins’s voice was tense as he put down his rod and picked up the gaff.

“Yup.” Grimly Mr. Grumbie wound his reel.

Henry was no longer sleepy. He dropped his rod and watched eagerly as Mr. Grumbie reeled in his line. He wanted to see exactly how a fish was landed. If a salmon bit for Mr. Grumbie, a salmon might bite for him.

Mr. Grumbie stopped winding the reel. The line began to unwind and Henry knew the salmon was pulling on it. “Is it going to get away?” Henry whispered to his father. He knew he must not disturb Mr. Grumbie.

“I don’t think so,” answered Mr. Huggins. “If the fish puts up a fight, it’s best to let him have the line or he’ll break it.”

When Mr. Grumbie began to wind the reel again, Henry watched breathlessly. Suddenly the fish began to fight once more. Mr. Grumbie looked grim as he waited for the salmon to rest. Then he turned the handle of the reel again. The great fish flopped out of the water near the boat. “Get him!” said Mr. Grumbie.

Henry watched his father lean out of the boat with the gaff. “Got him,” he said, as he hooked the fish through the gills and yanked it into the boat. The enormous fish did not stop fighting. Mr. Huggins tried to club it but missed, and the flopping salmon slapped against the sleeping Ribsy.

Ribsy woke up, saw the strange flopping thing, gave one terrified yelp, and tried to scramble away from it. As he fell over the line and fought desperately to get away, the hook was torn from the salmon’s mouth. Mr. Grumbie tried to grab his fish, but it slid through his hands, leaving them covered with scales. Again it slapped against Ribsy, who fell over the lunch boxes in his struggle to get away. With one mighty flop the fish cleared the side of the boat, landed with a splash that showered Henry and the two men, and swam away.

“Ki-yi-yi,” yelped the terrified Ribsy, as he fought free of fishing rods and lunch boxes. With one frantic glance backward, he leaped out of the other side of the boat and started swimming upstream.

It all happened so fast that Henry and the two men sat with their mouths open.



“Well…” said Mr. Huggins.

Mr. Grumbie did not say a word. He looked at his hands, covered with fish scales, and stared at the water where his fish had disappeared.

“Dad, start the boat,” yelled Henry. “Get Ribsy. He’ll be carried out to sea.”

It seemed to Henry that it took his father forever to pull up the anchor and wind the rope around the starter. “Ribsy!” he called frantically to his dog, who was fighting against the swift current of the river with his nose pointed out of the water. “Dad, hurry!” Henry knew that if Ribsy was carried into the breakers he wouldn’t have a chance.

Mr. Huggins jerked the rope. The motor sputtered and died. Hurriedly he rewound the rope.

“Dad!” cried Henry in despair. “Ribsy!” The dog was swimming with all his strength but was slowly being carried backward. A gust of wind blew across the choppy water and a wave washed over Ribsy’s head.

Still the boat would not start.

“Dad, he can’t swim against that current,” cried Henry, looking back at the hungry breakers. “Can’t you hurry?”

Mr. Huggins rewound the rope and yanked. The motor gave a tired gasp.

Now Ribsy was being carried back past the boat. I’ve got to get him, thought Henry, and leaned out of the boat. Ribsy was so close he could see the wild look in his eyes and watch his paws working under the water. Henry leaned a little farther out of the boat, reached toward Ribsy, and lost his balance. As he started to topple into the water he felt a hand grab him by the collar of his raincoat and yank him back into the boat.

“Don’t lean out,” said Mr. Huggins sharply, and rewound the rope. Henry knew there was no reason now to lean out of the boat. The current had swept Ribsy far beyond his reach.

By this time the fishermen in the other boats were watching. “Don’t worry, sonny,” called one of the men. He pulled up his anchor, started his powerful motor, and headed toward Ribsy. More terrified than ever by the roar of the motor, Ribsy struggled to get away from the boat bearing down on him.



Henry was almost afraid to look. What if the man couldn’t catch Ribsy? Or what if the boat ran over him? The man steered his boat close to Ribsy, reached out with his gaff, hooked it through Ribsy’s collar, and lifted the struggling, dripping dog into his boat.

The other fishermen began to laugh. “Must be a thirty-pounder you just landed,” someone called.

Henry was limp with relief. Let them laugh. Ribsy was safe. He wasn’t going to be carried out into those angry breakers. That was all that mattered.

The man swung his boat around in a wide circle and pulled up close to the Hugginses’ boat. He handed the soggy dog across to Henry.

“Gee, thanks,” Henry managed to say, as he clutched the shivering Ribsy.

“Don’t mention it,” answered the man. His big boat roared away, leaving the smaller boat bobbing in its wake.

“Gee…” Henry hugged his dog. Ribsy licked his face with his long pink tongue. “Gee, that sure was close.”