Mr. Popper's Penguins Read Online Free PDF

raised his flippers and leaned forward.
    Mr. Popper, who was still panting for breath, had not supposed the determined bird would plunge so quickly. He should have remembered that penguins will toboggan whenever they get a chance.
    Perhaps he had been unwise in tying one end of the clothesline to his own wrist.
    At any rate, this time Mr. Popper found himself suddenly sliding, on his own white-clad stomach, down the three flights of steps. This delighted the penguin, who was enjoying his own slide just ahead of Mr. Popper.
    When they reached the bottom, Captain Cook was so eager to go up again that Mr. Popper had to call a taxi, to distract him.
    “432 Proudfoot Avenue,” said Mr. Popper to the driver.
    The driver, who was a kind and polite man, did not laugh at his oddly assorted passengers until he had been paid.
    “Oh dear!” said Mrs. Popper, when she opened the door to her husband. “You looked so neat and handsome when you started for your walk. And now look at the front of you!”
    “I am sorry, my love,” said Mr. Popper in a humble tone, “but you can’t always tell what a penguin will do next.”
    So saying, he went to lie down, for he was quite exhausted from all the unusual exercise, while Captain Cook had a shower and took a nap in the icebox.

Chapter X
Shadows
    N EXT DAY THE PICTURE of Mr. Popper and Captain Cook appeared in the Stillwater Morning Chronicle, with a paragraph about the house painter who had received a penguin by air express from Admiral Drake in the faraway Antarctic. Then the Associated Press picked up the story, and a week later the photograph, in rotogravure, could be seen in the Sunday edition of the most important newspapers in all the large cities in the country.
    Naturally the Poppers all felt very proud and happy.
    Captain Cook was not happy, however. He had suddenly ceased his gay, exploring little walks about the house, and would sit most of the day, sulking, in the refrigerator. Mrs. Popper had removed all the stranger objects, leaving only the marbles and checkers, so that Captain Cook now had a nice, orderly little rookery.
    “He won’t play with us any more,” said Bill. “I tried to get some of my marbles from him, and he tried to bite me.”
    “Naughty Captain Cook,” said Janie.
    “Better leave him alone, children,” said Mrs. Popper. “He feels mopey, I guess.”
    But it was soon clear that it was something worse than mopiness that ailed Captain Cook. All day he would sit with his little white-circled eyes staring out sadly from the refrigerator. His coat had lost its lovely, glossy look; his round little stomach grew flatter every day.
    He would turn away now when Mrs. Popper would offer him some canned shrimps.
    One evening she took his temperature. It was one hundred and four degrees.
    “Well, Papa,” she said, “I think you had better call the veterinary doctor. I am afraid Captain Cook is really ill.”
    But when the veterinary came, he only shook his head. He was a very good animal doctor, and though he had never taken care of a penguin before, he knew enough about birds to see at a glance that this one was seriously ill.
    “I will leave you some pills. Give him one every hour. Then you can try feeding him on sherbet and wrapping him in ice packs. But I cannot give you any encouragement because I am afraid it is a hopeless case. This kind of bird was never made for this climate, you know. I can see that you have taken good care of him, but an Antarctic penguin can’t thrive in Stillwater.”
    That night the Poppers sat up all night, taking turns changing the ice packs.
    It was no use. In the morning Mrs. Popper took Captain Cook’s temperature again. It had gone up to one hundred and five.
    Everyone was very sympathetic. The reporter on the Morning Chronicle stopped in to inquire about the penguin. The neighbors brought in all sorts of broths and jellies to try to tempt the little fellow. Even Mrs. Callahan, who had never had a very high opinion of