Freddy and the Ignormus Page 10

“That was the animal that was around the bank the morning after the robbery,” whispered Freddy. “Something familiar about those eyes, too,” he added. “Seems as though there was. Well, what kind of animal do you call him, Theodore?”

  “If a feather duster had four legs and got married to a powder puff,” said the frog, “I expect their children would look like that. Gosh, is this thing the Ignormus?”

  Freddy didn’t answer, because just then a young hen came timidly out of the bushes on the other side of the road. Around her neck was a little basket in which were some eggs. She put the basket down on the grass at one side of the bridge, and having pulled her head back through the basket handle, was turning to run into the woods again when the bushes were pushed aside and Charles stepped out and confronted her.

  “Just a moment, Chirpita,” he said sternly. “You thought you had given your old father the slip, didn’t you? Well, I saw you making off with those eggs this morning, and so I followed you. Sneaking out of the henhouse so cleverly! You thought you were pretty smart, didn’t you? But you’re not as smart as your old father; not yet, you aren’t. I knew where you were off to. Meeting that young rooster from over the hill again, eh? That good-for-nothing young idler! I tell you, Chirpita, I will not have it—I will not allow you to have anything to do with that wretch, that whippersnapper, that beetle-brained young imbecile.”

  “He’s not, either!” sobbed Chirpita angrily. “Anyway, mother thinks he’s all right.”

  “Your mother is a very fine hen,” said Charles with dignity. “But with all due respect to her many superior qualities, she does not know people as I do. She does not look beneath the glitter of surface appearances. I sized up that young fellow the moment I saw him. A lot of feathers and a strut: that’s all there is to him. And when you marry, my girl, you’re going to marry something more than that. Now pick up that basket and come home with me.”

  “But father, I didn’t come out here to meet Benjy,” she said. “I came because I—well, mother knows about it. But I wasn’t to tell you or anyone.”

  “Ha!” said Charles. “I believe you. But your father is cleverer than he looks—”

  “Oh yes, father,” she interrupted. “Mother always tells us that.”

  “What!” Charles demanded. “What do you mean by that?” And then, apparently deciding that no answer would be very pleasant to such a question, he said: “Come; we’ll talk this over with your mother.”

  But as the hen stooped to put her head through the basket handle, the animal on the bridge stepped out into view. “Stop!” he called. “Those eggs are the property of the Ignormus. Remove them at your peril!”

  “Stop!” he called.

  Charles turned and looked him arrogantly up and down. “Well, upon my soul!” he said. “Where’d you come from? Escaped from some circus, I suppose. On your way, friend,” he added, with a wave of his claw.

  But Chirpita said: “It’s true, father; he’s right. I guess I’d better tell you. Mother found a note from the Ignormus this morning, saying we’d have to bring half a dozen eggs up here, or he’d come and eat us up. I—I guess we’d better leave them.”

  “I guess you better had,” said the strange animal. “Don’t interfere with the Ignormus, rooster, or you’ll be nothing but a handful of feathers blowing around the woods by night.”

  “Oh,” said Charles weakly. “Well … in that case. …” He stopped. Then he looked at the animal again and said: “But you—you are not the Ignormus, are you, sir?”

  “I’m his butler,” said the animal.

  “But I thought the Ig—the … excuse me, but I don’t like to say his name. I thought he lived all alone.”

  “He did,” replied the other. “For many years he lived alone. But he got tired of waiting on himself and cooking his own meals and making his own bed, and so on. He thought of hiring servants, but he was so terrible looking that he couldn’t get anybody to work for him. All the animals just ran away screaming when they first saw him. So then he heard about me and my family, and he sent to Africa for us. We’re the only animals in the world that aren’t frightened of anything. We’re practically unscareable.”

  “Indeed,” said Charles politely. “And may I ask—oh, we’ll leave the eggs, but may I ask—what kind of animals you are?”

  “You may ask,” said the animal, “but I don’t have to answer, and I’m not going to. We’ve waited too long as it is, and the Ignormus is already up and calling for his breakfast. So if you’ll just leave those eggs and go about your business—”

  Freddy and Theodore had seen and heard everything that went on. Freddy would have liked to capture the strange animal, but he felt sure that the creature would get away before he could get to him. And then he had a bright idea. He remembered how furious Charles had been at the truck driver, and at Jinx, when they had called him a chicken, and so just as the animal finished speaking, Freddy mimicked his voice, and said: “You big chicken, you!”

  Charles swung around quickly. His feathers, which had been drooping more and more, were suddenly fluffed out, and there was fire in his eye. “What did you say?” he demanded.

  The animal, hearing a voice behind him, had glanced over his shoulder, but now turned back to Charles. “I said to go about your business,” he repeated.

  “You big chicken, you!” repeated Freddy from his hiding place.

  Charles strutted up on to the bridge. “Just say that again,” he demanded. “Just say that again.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” said the animal. “I didn’t say anything but to put the eggs down.”

  “You big chicken, you!” repeated Freddy, again.

  “Now look here, my friend,” said Charles menacingly. “You’ve called me a chicken once too often. Put up your paws, you unscareable white-whiskered imitation of a stuffed monstrosity.” And he spread his wings and lowered his beak.

  “But I didn’t call you anything,” protested the other. “It was someone over in the woods. I heard them—”

  “Oh, yes? And who’d be in the Big Woods? Put ’em up, white-tail. I’m coming in.” And he flew at the animal.

  Freddy and Theodore were so amazed at the ferocity of Charles’s attack that for nearly a minute they didn’t move. Freddy was almost as goggle-eyed as the frog. The battle raged back and forth across the bridge, and the air was full of white fluff and feathers, for although the unscareable animal was putting up a good fight, his teeth were no match for Charles’s beak and claws, and his tail and whiskers were rapidly being converted into a very good imitation of a snowstorm. And then, before Freddy could collect himself and come to Charles’s assistance, it was all over, the animal was lying on his back with one of Charles’s claws on his neck, and as Freddy came rushing out, the rooster flapped his wings and gave a loud, if rather breathless, crow.

  And then Freddy got the surprise of his life. For as he looked down at the defeated animal who was panting and snarling weakly, and saw him stripped of his white whiskers and tail feathers, he recognized him. “Why it’s Ezra!” he exclaimed. “All disguised with feathers held to his tail with a rubber band, and cotton whiskers that he holds in his mouth. My goodness, Charles, I’d never have thought you could lick a rat. They’re terrible fighters.”

  “Pooh,” said Charles. “That’s nothing. You’ve always underrated me, Freddy. You and all the other animals. But I guess that shows you. I guess nobody’ll say again that—” He stopped suddenly, as the real meaning of what Freddy had said dawned on him. “A rat!” he exclaimed, and took his claw quickly off Ezra’s neck. And even though he had won the fight, he looked confused and a little scared, for no rooster in his right mind will tackle a rat. “Really,” he said backing away, “I didn’t realize—I had no idea—”

  If there had been any fight left in Ezra he could have got up then and given Charles a good beating. But he had had enough. “Aw, shut up!” he said weakly, and closed his eyes.

  Freddy bent over him. “I might have known,” he s
aid, “with Simon around, that the rest of his family wouldn’t be far off. But where you’ve all been beats me. You can’t have been living in the Big Woods, and—”

  “Who says we can’t?” snarled Ezra. “We work for the Ignormus, just as I told you. And—oh, boy!—when he hears of this, what he’ll do to you, rooster, will be plenty!”

  “Well, really,” said Charles apologetically, “if I’d known—”

  “Keep still, Charles,” interrupted Freddy. “You licked Ezra in a fair fight. Don’t go backing down now. Besides, I don’t believe there’s any Ignormus. I think that Simon and his gang are at the bottom of all these robberies. Probably they have a secret hideout up here somewhere—for they wouldn’t dare try to live in the Big Woods—”

  “Oh, wouldn’t we!” broke in Ezra. “And you don’t believe there’s any Ignormus, hey? What did you run for, then, when he started down out of the trees after you last night?”

  “Well,” said Freddy doubtfully, “he didn’t hurt me much. But suppose there is an Ignormus, and that you work for him, as you say.—Why, of course,” he exclaimed; “that handwriting on the letters was yours, Ezra. I remember when I taught you to write, you always made your d’s with a funny tail. I wondered where I’d seen them before. You wrote those intimidating letters.”

  “Sure, I did,” replied the rat boldly. “The boss—the Ignormus—I mean—he writes a beautiful hand, but the trouble is, it’s such beautiful writing nobody can read it. So when he wants to write letters that the people he sends ’em to are supposed to read, I write ’em for him.”

  “All letters are supposed to be read,” said Freddy.

  “No they aren’t either. Not the Ignormus’s. Suppose he wants to write a letter to scare some animal. He writes it in his beautiful hand, and signs it ‘The Ignormus.’ The animal gets it, and tries to read it, and can’t. ‘Oh, dear,’ he says; ‘what now?’ He’s sure the letter contains a threat, but he can’t find out what it is, and he becomes scareder and scareder. Whereas if I’d written the letter for the Ignormus, and said: ‘I’m going to eat you up at five o’clock on Friday,’ the animal would just have hidden at five on Friday, and wouldn’t be half so scared. It’s the same way when he thanks people for Christmas presents. Suppose you give him some slippers for Christmas. He writes a ‘thank you’ letter, but you can’t read it. You aren’t sure whether he liked the slippers or not. So next year you spend more money on him, so as to be sure to send him something he’ll like better than the slippers.”

  “I see,” said Freddy. “If he just had you write: ‘Thank you for the beautiful slippers,’ why next year maybe I’d think I wouldn’t have to send him anything more than a Christmas card. His letters are sort of like Charles’s speeches: they look lovely until you try to find out what they mean. Well, Ezra, I guess we’ll take you down to the farm and lock you up. Let me see, there’s an old parrot cage up in the loft that will do fine. But first I want you to answer some questions. Was it you and your family that robbed the bank?”

  Ezra was beginning to feel better. He sat up, felt gingerly of one or two sore spots, twirled his whiskers with one paw, and with a sly look at Freddy, said: “Sure. We did it, and the Ignormus stood guard. He sat on the bank and watched us dig. I guess that bank is pretty solidly built, or he’d have squashed it flat. You know what the boss weighs? Two thousand eight hundred and seventy-four pounds. And he’s been dieting, too. But now with all the animals bringing him good will offerings of vegetables and so on, and with occasional frogs and roosters, and maybe a pig on Sunday, I expect he’ll soon plump out again.—Why there he is now!” he exclaimed, jumping up and staring into the woods and waving his arms. “Hey, boss!” he shouted.

  The others turned and stared in the same direction. But there was nothing there—nothing but the great motionless tree trunks, and the millions of green leaves. And when they turned to look at Ezra again, there was nothing there either. For the rat had sneaked quietly away.

  Chapter 13

  The three friends trudged disconsolately homeward—at least, Freddy and Charles trudged; Theodore hopped, as usual. They were pretty mad at having been taken in by such an old trick. Freddy had even tried to kick himself for not keeping a sharper eye on Ezra, but it isn’t easy to kick yourself, and if you are a pig it is practically impossible. He only succeeded in kicking Charles, which didn’t add to the happiness of the occasion.

  At the pool in the woods, Theodore said good-bye, and with a leap and a plop he was gone. Charles gazed at the widening ripples on the pool’s surface. “Thus friends depart,” he said mournfully; “here one moment, gone the next. And here I stand, alone, bereft—”

  “Oh, shut up, Charles,” said Freddy. “You’ve just licked a rat in fair fight. What are you kicking about? It’s something I bet no rooster has ever done before. If anybody’s bereft, it’s me. Mr. Bean mad at me, everybody saying I’m a no good detective, it seems sometimes as if every animal’s paw was against me. By the way, what does ‘bereft’ mean?”

  “Goodness, you ought to know,” said the rooster. “It’s a regular poet’s word; that’s why I used it. I thought you’d understand it.”

  “Yeah,” said Freddy. “But what does it mean?”

  “Well it—it—Oh, what does it matter what it means? You always want everything explained. I use a nice word, a fine word, a word that would be a bright jewel in any poem, and instead of just looking at it and saying: ‘That’s a darn fine word,’ you want to define it. You—” He broke off suddenly. They had walked along as they talked, and had come out of the woods into the meadow beside the brook. “What’s going on here?”

  The meadow, which had recently been mowed, was dotted with little groups of small animals, all moving steadily in one direction. There were rabbits and squirrels and chipmunks, woodchucks and mice, and nearly all of them carried something in their mouths: bulging paper bags, or bundles done up in bits of old rag. At the far end of the field, Freddy saw his young cousin, Weedly, who seemed to be having a heated argument with a family of skunks.

  The skunk who was doing most of the talking Freddy recognized as his friend, Sniffy Wilson, and he ran across to him.

  “What’s it all about?” he asked. “Where you off to, Sniffy?”

  “They’re running away,” said Weedly indignantly. “Deserting the farm. Look, Freddy; all the animals are leaving and taking their household belongings with them. Isn’t it awful?”

  “It may be awful,” said Sniffy, “but it’s awfuller to stay here. With Mr. Bean mad at all the animals, and threatening to shoot us on sight—though how he’s to shoot, when his gun’s been stolen, I don’t know. And with this terrible Ignormus roaming all over the farm all night, stealing things and pouncing on everything that moves. Why, this used to be as safe as Centerboro Main Street on Sunday afternoon, this farm. But now our wives and children hardly dare stick their noses outdoors even in broad daylight. And with these new robberies last night—”

  “What robberies?” Freddy asked. “I was up in the woods all night. Has something else happened?”

  So between them, Weedly and Sniffy told him what had happened. It was plenty. The oat bin in the barn had been raided again, and another attempt had been made to rob the bank, but this latter had been foiled by the mouse on guard, who had rung the alarm bell. All the animals had turned out and had hunted several hours for the robbers, but hadn’t found any sign of them. When some of them got home, however, they found that in their absence their pantries had been broken into, and food taken. Moreover, when the two dogs and the two cats had gone off to answer the alarm bell, someone or something had got into the house and taken a bag of butternuts from the pantry. This was pretty serious, for these butternuts were a Christmas present for Mr. Bean from some of the woods animals, and he had been saving them so that Mrs. Bean could put them in a cake for his birthday. He’d be pretty mad when he knew they’d been stolen.

  “Oh, dear,” said Freddy gloomily, “I suppose he’ll suspect me
of that, too. I’ll be as popular around this farm as a—” He had been going to say “skunk,” but then he remembered that he was talking to Sniffy, so he stopped.

  Sniffy didn’t seem to notice it. He was a nice fellow, but not very sensitive. “Better come along with us,” he said. “I thought we’d pick out a nice farm down on the Flats, and settle there. Of course I know you’re fond of the Beans, but with things as they are now—”

  “Don’t talk nonsense!” said Freddy sharply. “With things as they are now, it’s just the time when we shouldn’t leave. Maybe Mr. Bean is mad at me, but I’m not mad at him. And it seems to me that to desert him now, when things are going wrong, is a pretty mean trick. Indeed, I feel,” he went on in a louder voice, as some of the other refugees came crowding up to hear what was going on, “that as citizens of the First Animal Republic, the only free animal republic in the world, we will, if we leave now, be deserting under fire.”

  There was a murmur of applause, and Sniffy said: “Gosh, I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

  Freddy was going on to say more, but Charles, who had now come up, saw a chance of making a speech, and as that was a chance he never missed if he could help it, he fluttered up to the top rail of the fence and held up one claw for silence.

  “Friends and fellow citizens,” he shouted, “you have heard what Freddy has said. I wish to endorse his statements with the full power of my well known eloquence. As citizens of the great free commonwealth of the F.A.R., under whose shining banner we have for so long enjoyed the fruits of peace, I call upon you now to band together to rid our country of the oppressor, to free it from the bonds of the tyrant. By what right do I thus call upon you, you ask. By the right of one, I reply, who though but a lowly rooster, has this day defeated in fair fight one of that tyrant’s ferocious henchmen. Yes I, your old friend Charles, have fought and beaten, for the glory of Mr. Bean and the honor of the F.A.R., the Ignormus’s servant, Ezra.”