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Updated: May 3, 2025
She hated dogs worse than rats, and being nearly the size of Zip, and having long, sharp claws, she was not an enemy to be sneezed at. Consequently it was either fight and arouse the household and so lose his chance of a gingersnap, or get out of her way. He decided on the latter. Seeing a kitchen window open, he gave one bound and jumped through. But, horrors, what had he landed on?
I thought of the little gingersnap roaring toward New York on the express, and wondered whether he was travelling in a Pullman or a day coach. A Pullman chair would feel easy after that hard Parnassus seat. By and by we neared a farmhouse which I took to be Mr. Pratt's. It stood close to the road, with a big, red barn behind and a gilt weathervane representing a galloping horse.
How could he realize that this was the first adventure I had had in the fifteen years I had been what was it he called it? compiling my anthology. Well, the funny little gingersnap! I kept Bock tied to the back of the van, as I was afraid he might take a notion to go in search of his master. As we jogged on, and the falling sun cast a level light across the way, I got a bit lonely.
Gingersnap must have been a welcome visitor at that farm, for in an instant the whole family turned out with a great scraping of chairs and clatter of dishes. A tall, sunburnt man, in a clean shirt with no collar, led the group, and then came a stout woman about my own build, and a hired man and three children. "Good evening!" I said. "Is this Mr. Pratt?" "Sure thing!" said he.
Why shouldn't I? Didn't Santa Claus bring me a beautiful butter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovely gingersnap, and a delicious rind of cheese, and and lots of things? I should be very ungrateful if I did not believe in Santa Claus, and I certainly shall not disbelieve in him at the very moment when I am expecting him to arrive with a bundle of goodies for me.
"Why not have him expressed to Mendoza?" I thought. "It's only twenty hours; they'll be glad to have him. I can take him home with me when I go through." My next meeting with Gingersnap was not as different from the first as one might have expected. He jumped on me, made much vigorous pretense to bite, and growled frequently, but it was a deep-chested growl and his stump waggled hard.
When next we saw them the Coyote was dead, and the Dogs sitting around panting, all but two of the Foxhounds and Gingersnap. "Too late for the fracas," remarked Hilton, glancing at these last Foxhounds. Then he proudly petted Dander. "Didn't need yer purp after all, ye see." "Takes a heap of nerve for ten big Dogs to face one little Coyote," remarked the father, sarcastically.
"Well," I said to myself as I turned into the high road once more, "drat the gingersnap, he seems to hypnotize everybody... he must be nearly in Brooklyn by this time!" It was very quiet along the road, also very dark, for the sky had clouded over and I could see neither moon nor stars.
Helen, munching a gingersnap, would go on with her laborious typewriting, and return: "Why look a gift horse in the mouth, Freddie?... Women aren't the only riddles in the world." "I think he comes to see you," he used to throw out in obvious jest. "That's the only way I can figure it." "He's like every man ... he wants an audience... I guess Mother Hilmer is tired of hearing him rave."
There was a score of little blue gingham dresses, dingy fabrics that seemed to darken childhood, flapping on a rear clothes line, and one two-year-old child lay asleep on a step, his little white frock, with black anchors printed into it, furiously smeared, and one hand clutching a sticky gingersnap. She did not even inquire further, but got out quickly, trembling.
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