Mike Flannery On Duty and Off Part 5

"I have heard of thim, too!" he said. "But 'tis of insects they be professors, and not of one kind of insects alone, Mrs. Muldoon, mam. Ye have mistook th' understandin' of what he was sayin'."

"I beg pardon to ye, Mr. Flannery," said Mrs. Muldoon, with some spirit, "but 'tis not mistook I am. Fleas th' professor said, and no mistake at all."

"Yis?" inquired Flannery. "Well, mebby 'tis so. He would be what ye call one of thim specialists. They do be doin' that now, I hear, and 'tis probable th' Frinchmin has fleas for his specialty. 'Tis like this, mam:--all professors is professors; then a bunch of professors separate off from the rest and be professors of insects; and then the professors of insects separate up, and one is professor of flies, and another one is professor of pinch-bugs, and another is professor of toads, and another is professor of lobsters, and so on until all the kinds of insects has each a professor to itself. And them they call specialists, and each one knows more about his own kind of insect than any other man in th' world knows. So mebbe the Frinchmin is professor of fleas, as ye say."

"I should think a grown man would want to be professor of something bigger than that," said Mrs. Muldoon, "but there's no accountin' for tastes."

"If ye understood, mam," said Mike Flannery, "ye would not say that same, for to the flea professor th' flea is as big as a house. He studies him throo a telescope, Mrs. Muldoon, that magnifies th' flea a million times. Th' flea professor will take a dog with a flea on him, mam, and look at th' same with his telescope, and th' flea will be ten times th' size of th' dog."

"'Tis wonderful!" exclaimed Mrs. Muldoon.

"It is so!" agreed Mike Flannery. "But 't is by magnifyin' th' flea that th' professor is able t' study so small an insect for years and years, discoverin' new beauties every day. One day he will be studyin' th'

small toe of th' flea's left hind foot, and th' next day he will be makin' a map of it, and th' next he will be takin' a statute of it in plaster, an th' next he will be photygraftin it, and th' next he will be writin' out all he has learned of it, and then he will be weeks and months correspondin' with other flea professors in all parts of th'

worrld, seein' how what he has learned about th' little toe of th'

flea's left hind foot agrees with what they have learned about it, and if they don't all agree, he goes at it agin, and does it all over agin, and mebby he dies when he is ninety years old and has only got one leg of th' flea studied out. And then some other professor goes on where he left off, and takes up the next leg."

"And do they get paid for it?" asked Mrs. Muldoon, with surprise.

"Sure, they do!" said Flannery. "Good money, too. A good specialist professor gits more than an ixpriss agent. And 't is right they sh'u'd,"

he added generously, "for 't is by studyin' th' feet of fleas, and such, they learn about germs, and how t' take out your appendix, and 'Is marriage a failure?' and all that."

"Ye dumbfounder me, Mike Flannery," said Mrs. Muldoon. "Ye should have been one of them professors yourself, what with all the knowledge ye have. And ye think 't would be a good thing t' let th' little Frinchmin come and take a room?"

"'T would be an honour to shake him by th' hand," said Mike Flannery, and so the professor was admitted to the board and lodging of Mrs.

Muldoon.

The name of the professor who, after a short and unfruitful season at Coney Island, took lodging with Mrs. Muldoon, was Jocolino. He had shown his educated fleas in all the provinces of France, and in Paris itself, but he made a mistake when he brought them to America.

The professor was a small man, and not talkative. He was, if anything, inclined to be silently moody, for luck was against him. He put his baggage in the small bedroom that Mrs. Muldoon allotted to him, and much of the time he spent in New York. He had fellow countrymen there, and he was trying to raise a loan, with which to buy a canvas booth in which to show his educated insects. He received the friendly advances of Flannery and the other boarders rather coldly. He refused to discuss his specialty, or show Mike the toe of the left hind foot of a flea through a telescope. When he remained at home after dinner he did not sit with the other boarders on the porch, but walked up and down the walk, smoking innumerable cigarettes, and thinking, and waving his hands in mute conversations with himself.

"I dunno what ails th' professor," said Mrs. Muldoon, one evening when she and Flannery sat at the table after the rest had left it.

Flannery hesitated.

"I would not like to say for sure, mam," he said, slowly, "but I'm thinkin' 't is a loss he has had, maybe, that's preyin' on his mind.

Ever since ye told me, Missus Muldoon, that he was a professor of th'

educated fleas, I have had doubts of th' state of th' mind of th'

professor. Th' sense of studyin' th' flea, mam, I can understand, that bein' th' way all professors does these days, but 't is not human t'

spend time givin' a flea a college education. Th' man that descinds t'

be tutor t' a flea, and t' teach it all th' accomplishments, from readin' and writin' t' arithmetic and football, mebby, is peculiar. I will say he is dang peculiar, Missus Muldoon, beggin' your pardon. Is there any coffee left in the pot, mam?"

"A bit, Mr. Flannery, an' you 're welcome t' it."

"I understand th' feelin' that makes a man educate a horse, like that Dutchman I was readin' about in th' Sunday paper th' other day," said Mike, "and teachin' it t' read an' figger, an' all that. An' I can see th' sinse of educatin' a pig, as has been done, as you well know, mam, for there be no doubt a man can love a horse or a pig as well as he can love his own wife--"

"An' why not a flea?" asked Mrs. Muldoon. "'T is natural for an Irishman t' love a pig, if 't is a pig worth lovin', and 't is natural, I make no doubt, for a Dutchman t' love a horse th' same way, and each t' his own, as th' sayin' is. Mebby th' Frinch can learn t' love th' flea in th'

same way, Mr. Flannery."

"I say th' same, Missus Muldoon," said Flannery, "an' I say th'

professor has done that same, too. I say he has educated th' flea, an'

mebby raised it from a baby, and brung it from his native land, mam, an'

taught it, an' learned t' love it. Yes, Missus Muldoon! But if th'

educated horse or th' educated pig got loose would they be easy t' find agin, or would they not, mam? And if th' professor come t' have a'

grrand love for th' flea he has raised by hand, an' taught like his own son, an' th' flea run off from him, would th' educated flea be easy t'

find? Th' horse an' th' pig is animals that is not easy t' conceal themselves, Missus Muldoon, but th' flea is harrd t' find, an' when ye have found him he is harrd t' put your thumb on. I'm thinkin' th'

reason th' professor is so down is that he has lost th' flea of his hearrt."

"Poor man!" said Mrs. Muldoon.

"An' th' reason I'm thinkin' so," said Flannery slowly, and leaning toward Mrs. Muldoon across the table, "is that, if I be not mistaken, Missus Muldoon, th' professor's educated flea spent last night with Mike Flannery!"

Mrs. Muldoon raised her hands with a gesture of wonderment.

"And listen to that, now!" she cried, in astonishment. "Mike Flannery, do you be thinkin' th' professor has _two_ of them? Sure, and he must have two of them, for was it not mesilf was thinkin' all last night I had th' same educated flea for a bed-felly? I would have caught him,"

she added, sadly, "but he was too brisk for me."

"There was forty-sivin times I thought I had mine," admitted Flannery, "but every time whin I took up me thumb he had gone some other place.

But I will have him to-night!"

"But mebby he has gone by now," said Mrs. Muldoon.

"Never fear, mam," said Flannery. "He's not gone, mam, for he has been close to me every minute of th' day. I could put me thumb on him this minute, if he would but wait 'till I did it."

"Well, as for that, Mike Flannery," said Mrs. Muldoon, mischievously, as she arose from the table, "go on along with ye, and don't be bringin'

th' blush t' me face, but whin I want t' find th' one I was speakin' of, I won't have t' walk away from meself t' find him this minute!"

The trained flea is one of nature's marvels. Everyone says so. A Bobby Burns might well write a poem on this "wee, timorous, cowerin' beastie,"

except that the flea is not, strictly speaking, timorous or cowering. A flea, when it is in good health and spirits, will not cower worth a cent. It has ten times the bravery of a lion--in fact, one single little flea, alone and unaided, will step right up and attack the noisiest lion, and never brag about it. A lion is a rank coward in comparison with a flea, for a lion will not attack anything that it has not a good chance of killing, while the humble but daring flea will boldly attack animals it cannot kill, and that it knows it cannot kill. David had at least a chance to kill Goliath, but what chance has a flea to kill a camel? None at all unless the camel commits suicide. And dogs! A flea will attack the most ferocious dog and think nothing of it at all. I have seen it myself. That is true bravery. And not only that--not only will one flea attack a dog--but hundreds of fleas will attack the same dog at the same time. I have seen that myself, too. And that multiplies the bravery of the flea just that much. One flea attacking a dog is brave; one hundred fleas attacking the same dog are therefore one hundred times as brave. We really had to give the dog away, he was carrying so much bravery around with him all the time.

Think of educating an animal with a brain about the size of the point of a fine needle! And that was what Professor Jocolino had done. The flea is really one of nature's wonders, like Niagara Falls, and Jojo the dog-faced man, and the Ca?on of the Colorado. Pull? For its size the educated flea can pull ten times as much as the strongest horse. Jump?

For its size the flea can jump forty times as far as the most agile jack-rabbit. Its hide is tougher than the hide of a rhinoceros, too.

Imagine a rhinoceros standing in Madison Square, in the City of New York, and suppose you have crept up to it, and are going to pat it, and your hand is within one foot of the rhinoceros. And before you can bring your hand to touch the beast suppose it makes a leap, and goes darting through the air so rapidly that you can't see it go, and that before your hand has fallen to where the rhinoceros was, the rhinoceros has alighted gently on top of the City Hall at Philadelphia. That will give you some idea of the magnificent qualities of the flea. If we only knew more of these ordinary facts about things we would love things more.

At the breakfast table the next morning Professor Jocolino sat silent and moody in his place, his head, bent over his breakfast, but the nine other men at the table eyed him suspiciously. So did Mrs. Muldoon. There was no question now that Professor Jocolino had lost his educated flea.

There was, in fact, ground for the belief that the professor had had more than one educated flea, and that he had lost all of them. There was also a belief that, however well trained the lost might be in some ways, their manners had not been carefully attended to, and that they had not been trained to be well behaved when making visits to utter strangers. A beast or bird that will force itself upon the hospitality of an utter stranger unasked, and then bite its host, may be well educated, but it is not polite. The boarders looked at Professor Jocolino and frowned.

The professor looked stolidly at his plate, and ate hurriedly, and left the table before the others had finished.

"'T is in me mind," said Flannery, when the professor had left, "that th' professor has a whole college of thim educated insects, an' that he do be lettin' thim have a vacation. Or mebby th' cla.s.s of 1907 is graduated an' turned loose from th' university. I had th' base-ball team an' th' football gang spendin' th' night with me."

"Ho!" said Hogan, gruffly, "'t was th' fellys that does th' high jump an' th' long jump an' th' wide jump was havin' a meet on Hogan. An' I will be one of anny ten of us t' tell th' professor t' call th'

scholards back t' school agin. I be but a plain uneducated man, Missus Muldoon, an' I have no wish t' speak disrespect of thim as is educated, but th' conversation of a gang of Frinch educated fleas is annoyin' t' a man that wants t' sleep."

"I will speak t' th' professor, gintlemin," said Mrs. Muldoon, "an'

remonstrate with him. Mary, me girrl," she added, to the maid, who was pa.s.sing her chair, "would ye mind givin' me th' least bit of a rub between me shoulders like? I will speak t' th' professor, for I have no doubt he has but t' say th' worrd t' his scholards, an' they will all run back where they belong."

But the professor did not come back that day. He must have had urgent business in New York, for he remained there all night, and all the next day, too, and if he had not paid his bill in advance, Mrs. Muldoon would have suspected that he had run away. But his bill was paid, and his luggage was still in the room, and the educated fleas, or their numerous offspring, explored the boarding-house at will, and romped through all the rooms as if they owned them. If Professor Jocolino had been there he would have had to listen to some forcible remonstrances. It was Flannery who at length took the law into his own hands.

It was late Sunday evening. The upper hall was dark, and Flannery stole softly down the hall in his socks and pushed open the professor's door.

The room was quite dark, and Flannery stole into it and closed the door behind himself. He drew from his pocket an insect-powder gun, and fired it. It was an instrument something like a bellows, and it fired by a simple squeeze, sending a shower of powder that fell in all directions.