Freddy Rides Again Read online

  While all this was going on at the Grimby house, Mr. J. J. Pomeroy was talking to Mrs. Wiggins. He had flown up to see how she was getting along in her prison, and to see what chances there were of helping her to escape.

  When he had dropped down from the sky above the Margarine place and perched on a fence post to look things over, he had been able to see straight into the door of her stall. And what he saw startled him so that he nearly fell off the post. It was a broad pale face, over which straggled long locks of lank black hair. And as he started, it broke into song.

  “Freddy the pig

  Has lost his wig,

  And he’s also lost his Wiggins,

  Leave ’em alone

  And they’ll come home—

  “How will I finish that, J. J.?” it called.

  “Good gracious!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Wiggins! I see; that’s Freddy’s wig, isn’t it? … Well, now, how’s this?

  “Freddy the pig

  Has lost his wig.

  And his Wiggins too, he’s lost.

  Leave ’em alone

  And they’ll come home—

  “H’m. Bossed, frost … Oh—at almost no extra cost. How’s that?”

  “It’s pretty, but what does it mean?” Mrs. Wiggins asked.

  “Let’s think about that later. Now I have to go back and report. How’s everything? Anything new?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” said the cow. “I’ve had an idea.”

  “Bless me!” said Mr. Pomeroy admiringly.

  “You may well say ‘Bless me!’” replied Mrs. Wiggins. “Now, look here. Can you mew?”

  “Mew?” he said. “Me? No. I can chirp, I can warble. But mew—no. However, there’s a catbird, a Mr. Johnson or Puddleford or some such name, down the road. He’s a good mewer. Why?”

  “There’s nobody in the house but Mrs. Margarine and two maids,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “The men have gone to look for Billy. Mrs. M. was out here calling for Arthur a while ago. She wants to find him. Now you see, if you could mew, you could pretend to be Arthur and lead her and the maids away; and then, with nobody here to stop you, all the animals could come over and get me out of this place.”

  “If you want mewing, why not get a cat?” said the robin.

  “Gracious, I never thought of that!” said the cow. “Where’s Jinx?”

  “Why not get Arthur?” said Mr. Pomeroy. “He’s a good guy.”

  “Arthur’d be embarrassed,” she said. “Mrs. Margarine’s name for him … well, he’d just be sick if all the animals heard what it is. Oh dear, even if Jinx does the mewing they’ll hear it, because they’ll have to be here. No, let’s just forget the whole thing.”

  Mr. Pomeroy started to protest, but he knew that the cow was too kind-hearted to give in; she wouldn’t hurt Arthur’s feelings. “O.K.,” he said. “I guess you’ll be out of here soon enough, anyway.” And he said goodbye and went. But he went straight down to see Arthur.

  The big tortoise-shell cat looked unhappy. “I wish we could think of some other way,” he said. “I won’t be able to look any of you animals in the eye without blushing, if you know that name. But if it’s Mrs. Wiggins’ safety—yes, of course I’ll do it. I have to. If I didn’t, I couldn’t look any of you in the eye at all, blush or no blush. Come on.”

  The other animals were coming back from the Grimby house. Mr. Pomeroy told them the plan, and they started at once for the Margarine place. The Horribles had come back too, and they went along.

  Mrs. Margarine had stationed the maids at the back windows to keep an eye on the stables, in case of an attempted rescue. Suddenly one of them gave a screech. “Oh, Mis’ Margarine! Your Sweetie! He just went around the corner of the garage!”

  Mrs. Margarine dashed out into the kitchen. “Come Nellie! Martha, you stay on guard.” She rushed out of the back door.

  There was an open space back of the house around which stood the barn, the stables, and other buildings. Arthur didn’t show himself again—as a matter of fact he had gone some distance up towards the Big Woods. He sat behind a bush and said softly, “Merowp! Merowp” very short, so that it was hard to tell where the sound came from.

  “Co-o-o-me, Kitty kitty! Co-o-o-me, Sweetie Pie!” Mrs. Margarine called, and went towards it, with Nellie beside her.

  “Merowp!” Arthur stepped into view, walking very dignified as if he didn’t see her, as cats do. Then he went behind another bush a little farther away.

  This went on for some time. Before she knew it, Mrs. Margarine was on the edge of the woods and nearly a quarter of a mile from the house.

  “We ought to go back, ma’am,” said Nellie fearfully. “Then rattlesnakes—”

  “Pooh!” said Mrs. Margarine. “Don’t be silly!” And she went in among the deep shadows of the big trees.

  As soon as she disappeared the rescue party made a dash for the stable. Martha saw them and rushed out; but rushed right back in again with Mrs. Wogus galloping after her. Mrs. Wogus chased her through the kitchen and the dining room and the hall and halfway up the front stairs. But cows aren’t used to stairs. Mrs. Wogus backed down, and then stood guard in the hall.

  Outside, the rescue party wasn’t getting anywhere. The upper half of the stall door was open, but the lower half was padlocked, and too high for Mrs. Wiggins to climb over. Hank backed up to it and tried to kick it down with his big iron shoes, but it didn’t even shake, and Hank stopped. He said it jarred him so it made his teeth ache. In the kennel the hounds made quite a fuss, but they couldn’t get out.

  The dogs found some boxes and tried to get Mrs. Wiggins to climb over, but when she stepped on them the boxes caved in, and finally she said she’d rather be shot than try again.

  The Horribles had stood around watching; they were too small to be of any help. But they had all been thinking. They did quite a lot of thinking, on and off; mostly ordinary rabbit thoughts, about which garden had the tenderest lettuce and the best way of dodging hawks. But they also thought a lot about who they could scare next with their war dance. And pretty soon all their noses were turned towards the Big Woods. Then 18 looked at 23, and 23 nudged 7, and 7 whispered in 38’s ear, and all at once all twenty-five of them started for the woods. Their little white tails bounced up and down. It looked as if someone had thrown several handfuls of small white rubber balls, which went bounding along across the fields till they disappeared among the trees.

  Chapter 14

  There were a lot of things going on all at once. Freddy and Billy were riding down the eastern side of the woods towards the pig pen, and Mr. Margarine and his two men, with shotguns held at the ready, were creeping up on the Grimby house, and Mrs. Wogus was sitting in Mr. Margarine’s front hall, admiring herself in the big hall mirror, and Mrs. Margarine was being silently surrounded by the Horrible Thirty, as she went farther and farther into the woods, calling: “Here, Sweetie! Come kitty-pie! Come spitty—spitty—spitty!” For her tongue was tired, she had called so many times, and it kept saying the words wrong.

  It is always a little scary going from the warm sunshine of the fields into the cool gloom of the woods. Nellie had fallen behind and at last turned quietly back, and Mrs. Margarine went on slowly. And then all at once, in a particularly gloomy spot, the Horribles jumped out from behind tree trunks and bushes and went into their dance.

  Mrs. Margarine gave a loud screech, and then one that was not quite so loud, and then one that was just a sort of moan, and she dashed from side to side of the prancing circle, but didn’t dare to try to break through when she saw the knives.

  The Horribles paid no attention. They pranced and sang.

  “We are the Horrible Thirty,

  Red-eyed, bloodthirsty and dirty.

  We like to hear our enemies squall,

  As we chop ’em fine and we chop ’em small.

  We like to hear our enemies squeal,

  As we chop ’em up for our evening meal.

  We like to see our enemies squinch,

&
nbsp; As we chop ’em slowly, inch by inch.…”

  Mrs. Margarine had sunk down on the ground and covered her face with her hands. The Horribles went on bouncing and singing but they were beginning to get tired. Finally No. 16 said to 23: “Well, what do we do now?”

  Usually, if their victim didn’t break away from them, they would threaten to come again and chop him to pieces, and then after they had let him go they would have a good laugh together and go off in search of someone else to scare. But it wasn’t doing Mrs. Wiggins any good just to scare Mrs. Margarine.

  “If Robert and Georgie were here,” 23 said, “we could take her somewhere and lock her up.”

  “Where?” 16 asked. “Mr. Margarine’s up at the Grimby house.”

  “I’ve got it!” said 23 suddenly. “Go down and get Robert and the rest of them, 16.” Then he held up one paw. “Brother Horribles,” he shouted, “Look upon the prisoner.”

  The dance stopped and they crowded around Mrs. Margarine. She peeked through her fingers at them, then shuddered and covered her eyes tighter than ever.

  “Brother Horribles,” said 23, “guard the prisoner well. If she makes one false move, chop her into small bits. About one inch square.” He waved his knife, and the others said: “Yes, Your Dreadfulness,” and waved theirs. And Mrs. Margarine shuddered some more.

  So 23 went out to meet the other animals. He told them his plan, and they followed him into the woods. They surrounded Mrs. Margarine, and Hank stepped up to her. “Madam,” he said politely, “kindly rise and follow me.”

  Mrs. Margarine took her hands from her face. When, instead of the small queer-looking Horribles, she saw Hank and the dogs and Mrs. Wurzburger—just ordinary farm animals—she gave a great sigh of relief and got up. She followed them without a word back across the fields. In case the maids were looking out of the windows, Georgie ran on ahead and did a lot of barking in front of the house. They led Mrs. Margarine around to the box stall where Mrs. Wiggins was imprisoned. “Climb in if you please Madam,” said Hank and gallantly held out a hoof to help her.

  “In here?” she exclaimed. “I want to go into the house.”

  “If you please,” said Hank firmly, and as she still objected, Robert growled and showed his teeth. She put her hands on the top of the half-door and vaulted lightly in. Then Hank shut the upper half of the door and latched it. “Keep her quiet, Mrs. W.,” he said. “We’re clearing out now, but we’ll be back.”

  In the front hall Mrs. Wogus had finally begun to get bored. You can admire yourself in a mirror for quite a long time, but after a while it stops being fun. At first you’re pretty pleased, and you look at yourself full-face and smile and try different expressions, and then you try to see if maybe your profile isn’t pretty noble—but then you begin to notice things that aren’t so good. With head thrown back and eyelids half closed, are you really important-looking or just a stuffed shirt? Is that smile really sweet and charming, or is it just sappy? Mrs. Wogus was not a very bright cow, but after all she was a cow, and the more she gazed, the unhappier she got. Finally she shook her head mournfully, turned her back on the mirror and went to the front door.

  It was at about this time that Mr. Margarine and his two men rode into the yard, after having explored the Grimby house and found it empty. Without a glance at the closed box stall, he ran around to the front door, and he was just turning the knob when Mrs. Wogus opened it and stuck her head out, almost into his face.

  Mrs. Wogus stuck her head out.

  Well, Mr. Margarine was pretty surprised. He had expected to see his wife, not a cow. But before he could say anything, Mrs. Wogus gave him a push that knocked him off the porch, then turned and plunged back through the dining room and kitchen and out the back door. Thomas was leading the horses back to the stable. He gave a yell, but Mrs. Wogus came thundering down on him, horns lowered, and he gave a different kind of yell and ducked into the garage. Mrs. Wogus pounded off towards home.

  Now all three sisters—Mrs. Wiggins, Mrs. Wogus and Mrs. Wurzburger—looked a good deal alike. Of course if you knew them well, you could tell them apart. Mrs. Wiggins looked kind and intelligent, Mrs. Wogus looked kind and dumb, and Mrs. Wurzburger looked kind and sort of halfway between. But Mr. Margarine really knew them only slightly and he thought that Mrs. Wogus was Mrs. Wiggins, and that she had escaped from the stall. Naturally, if she had escaped, it was his wife’s fault, and he went to the foot of the stairs and yelled for her.

  It was nearly half an hour later that having questioned both Nellie and Martha, he saddled up again and rode back to the Big Woods to hunt for his wife.

  In the box stall, Mrs. Margarine had been at first rather frightened. She was not afraid of cows as a rule, but when she had started to shout for help, Mrs. Wiggins had threatened her with her horns. So she sat down on the straw in the corner and tried to keep out of the cow’s way.

  But Mrs. Wiggins was a kindly person; after a few minutes, she said: “You’ve no call to be scared. I won’t hurt you. Only—no hollering.”

  “I don’t propose to ‘holler’ as you call it,” said Mrs. Margarine stiffly. “May I ask what you expect to gain by this outrageous behavior?”

  “Outrageous behavior!” Mrs. Wiggins said. “That’s a funny name for being roped and dragged in here and locked up. Matter of fact, you’ve had the same treatment, so I might ask what you expect to gain.”

  Mrs. Margarine thought this over. Then she said: “Maybe you’re right. We both want to get out. Now just let me call to Thomas or Jenks—”

  “No!” said Mrs. Wiggins firmly, and lowered her horns.

  For a while neither said anything. Then Mrs. Margarine said: “Oh, dear; really, er—Mrs—”

  “Wiggins.”

  “Mrs. Wiggins, can’t we come to some agreement? If I promise to release you, would you let me call for the men?”

  “I’d like to, ma’am. But I promised my friends,” said the cow.

  “In other words, you don’t trust me?”

  “Why no, ma’am, since you put it that way—I don’t.”

  Mrs. Margarine looked angry; then she laughed. “I daresay you’re right. I can hardly imagine myself keeping a promise to a cow.”

  “A cow or a man—what’s the difference,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “It’s you that makes the promise.”

  Mrs. Margarine thought about this for quite a while. At last she said: “Do you know, I never thought of that before! And to think it’s a cow that set me right. I had no idea that cows … Why, dear me; that was very friendly of you.”

  “I don’t feel unfriendly, ma’am,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Only towards Mr. Margarine. You know very well why.”

  Mrs. Margarine sighed. “Yes, I know. Elihu is so masterful. That red barn of Mr. Bean’s—I didn’t really care about that at all, but I just mentioned it one day, and he decided that the color must be changed.”

  “It’s not his to change, ma’am.”

  “Please don’t keep calling me ma’am,” said Mrs. Margarine. “My name is Mirabel.”

  “Mirabel Margarine—that’s very pretty,” said the cow. “But really—”

  “Oh, please!” Mrs. Margarine pleaded.

  Mrs. Wiggins gave her comfortable laugh. Of course it was her polite laugh; not the great roaring laugh she gave when she was really amused. “Why very well, then—Mirabel,” she said.

  After that they got on quite well together. And when Mrs. Margarine learned that Mrs. Winfield Church of Centerboro, was a friend of Mrs. Wiggins’, she was much impressed. For Mrs. Margarine was a snob and she knew that Mrs. Winfield Church was almost as rich as Mr. Margarine. They talked of this and that, and there was only one interruption, when they heard someone outside—Mrs. Margarine said it was Thomas—say in a low voice: “Sounded like her talkin’—the boss’s wife.”

  “Sounded like a cow to me,” said Jenks.

  “Better not let the boss hear you say that,” said Thomas, and they giggled.

  “Anyway,” said Thomas,
“The cow isn’t there. She escaped. So I’m going to open that door and see who’s in there.”

  So he did, and out came Mrs. Margarine and Mrs. Wiggins. The cow didn’t stop for any conversation. The two men were so astonished to see again what was apparently the same cow that had just dashed out of the back door, that they let her get a good start before trying to stop her. Then they ran to get horses and a rope; but Mrs. Margarine called them back, and told them to let the cow go.

  “But Mr. Margarine wanted to keep her locked up,” Thomas protested.

  “Are you telling me what Mr. Margarine wants?” she demanded.

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “Only—”

  “Only you’ll lose your job if you don’t keep still,” she said sharply, and Thomas backed down.

  But Mrs. Margarine looked after the cow, who was trotting over the fields towards home. And when Mrs. Wiggins turned, just before passing out of sight, and smiled at her, with a smile that was so broad on her big face that you could see it plainly even at that distance, Mrs. Margarine took out her handkerchief and waved it.

  Like a lot of people, she wasn’t so bad at all when you got to know her a little. Many snobs are quite nice people, otherwise.

  Chapter 15

  While Mr. Margarine and his two men were creeping up on the empty Grimby house—and Charles, sitting in his spruce tree, thought they looked pretty silly at it—Freddy and Billy were down at the pig pen. Billy had put on Freddy’s best shirt, the blue one with the yellow lightning flashes on it, and his second best cowboy boots and big hat, and then Freddy had buckled a handsome gun belt around the boy’s hips. Freddy’s pistols, of course—the water pistol and the regular gun loaded with blanks—he couldn’t give up; and there were no other guns available to put into the empty holsters.

  “Never mind,” Freddy said, “We’ll ride down to Centerboro and get you some guns. And a Mexican saddle, too. That little English saddle is all wrong. Oh, sure—and a rope.”