The Story of Freginald Page 11

  Freginald explained about Freddy’s typewriter. “But don’t bother to work it out,” he said. “It just means that—”

  “No, no; don’t tell me,” Leo interrupted. “I can read it if you can.”

  So Freginald sat down and waited while Leo, growling and grumbling under his breath, began to spell out the words.

  But the lion was not a very good student, and pretty soon his growls became regular and turned into a purr, and then his eyes closed and he was fast asleep. So Freginald went back to his wagon to wait.

  About three o’clock there was a rap on the door and he opened it to see a very strange-looking animal with a black stripe down his back, a sharp nose, and two wicked-looking tusks that made his upper lip curl into a ferocious sneer. At least he thought it was a strange-looking animal until he saw that it was just Freddy the detective, dressed up.

  “Come in,” he said. “What are you disguised as, today?”

  Freddy took out the tusks, which were just short curved pieces of wood that he had found in the woodshed, and sat down. “A wild boar,” he said. “I didn’t want anybody to recognize me. It isn’t a very good disguise, though, because I can’t talk with those tusks in. And you knew who I was, too.”

  “Oh, well,” said Freginald, “I probably wouldn’t if I hadn’t been expecting you. Have you found out anything that will help us?”

  “I’ve found out two things,” said Freddy. “The first is that this man who says he’s Mr. Hackenmeyer isn’t really Mr. Hackenmeyer at all. I’ll tell you how I found out. The day after you called I went to see his show. When I came out he was standing by the gate and I stopped and said: ‘How do you do, Mr. Hackenmeyer? Perhaps you remember me—I am Freddy, the pig you saved from drowning in the river that time, five years ago.’ ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Why, sure, I remember you. So this is Freddy, eh? Well, well. How have you been, Freddy?’ So I said: ‘All right,’ and went on. And that’s the way I knew he wasn’t Mr. Hackenmeyer.”

  “Well, but I don’t see,” said Freginald, “how that proves he isn’t the real Mr. Hackenmeyer.”

  “Why, don’t you see?” said Freddy; “he never did save me from drowning. I never saw him before. But he thought the real Mr. Hackenmeyer knew me, so—”

  “Oh, yes,” said Freginald, “I see now. Why, that was clever!”

  “Pshaw,” said Freddy, “that’s nothing. Just routine detective work. And I’m afraid it isn’t enough to really prove anything against him. Nothing to base a case on. Because I’ve talked to some of his men and they are all ready to swear he is Mr. Hackenmeyer. Of course, they none of them knew him when he was with this circus. But unless we could find the real Mr. Hackenmeyer we haven’t got any complaint that the police would listen to.”

  “I suppose that’s so,” said Freginald. “But what can we do, then?”

  “Well,” said Freddy, “I’ve got a plan. After all, the important thing is to get rid of this other circus, isn’t it? Now, I’ve talked to most of the Hackenmeyer animals and they’re all pretty sick of the way they are treated. He’s pretty mean to them. What I propose is that we get them to go on strike.”

  “You mean they’d refuse to do any more work?” Freginald asked. “But how could they do that? They’re all locked up. He just wouldn’t feed them if they struck. They’d have to go back to work.”

  “Ah, but suppose they all got out of their cages and walked off the job?”

  “Even then somebody’d have to feed them. Do you know how much hay an elephant eats a day? And there are five elephants over there, besides fifty or sixty other animals.”

  “Shoot! And I thought that was such a good idea,” said Freddy. “But now wait a minute. I think we can get around that. Yes, I’ve got it. Can you give me a couple more days?”

  “If something isn’t done in two days, Mr. Boomschmidt’s going to start back south,” said Freginald. “So whatever we do we’ll have to do quick.”

  “Two days is enough if we work fast,” said Freddy. “But you’ll have to get leave of absence from the show and help me.”

  Freginald said that was easy, so Freddy waited while he went around and spoke to Mr. Boomschmidt, and then the two set out.

  The first stop they made was at old Mr. Scatterthwaite’s farm. Mr. Scatterthwaite came out as they turned in the gate. He was a quick, jerky little man with a white beard. “How do, Freddy?” he said. “Come to call? Take a chair on the porch. I’ll call Mrs. Scatterthwaite.”

  “Well, I’ve really come on business,” said Freddy.

  “In that case, come down to the barn.”

  So they followed the old man round the house and into the cool dim barn that smelled sweetly of hay and Freddy introduced Freginald and then he said: “Do you need any help haying?”

  “Well, I do, Freddy, and that’s a fact,” said Mr. Scatterthwaite. “I cut the upper lot Friday and I ought to get that in tomorrow. The good weather ain’t goin’ to hold over this week. And the hay along the river ought to be cut, too. But, my land, I can’t do it all alone. My son-in-law, Mr. Witherspoon, was goin’ to bring his team over, but he’s haulin’ building material for the new mill over to the flats.”

  “That’s right,” said Freddy. “The mill. I’d forgotten that. Well, I tell you, Mr. Scatterthwaite, I’ve got a lot of unemployed animals on my hands, and I want to get work for them. If I could let you have two or maybe three elephants to help you, could you feed them for a week?”

  Mr. Scatterthwaite clawed his whiskers thoughtfully. “Well, I durino about elephants,” he said. “They eat a powerful lot.”

  “They do a powerful lot of work,” said Freddy.

  “That’s true,” said the old man. “That’s true as you’re born. I kinda like the critters, too. But ain’t you got any horses, Freddy?”

  “Got everything,” said the pig. “Horses, zebras, yaks, tigers—everything. I can let you have a team of horses and a team of yaks if you’d rather. I only suggested the elephants because I think they’re the best, and I wanted to give you first choice.”

  “Guess I better have the horses and yaks,” said Mr. Scatterthwaite. “You see how ’tis, Freddy—” he looked cautiously toward the house and lowered his voice—“Mrs. Scatterthwaite, she don’t get out much, don’t see anything new once a year, and get a couple of strange animals like elephants and she’d be out here all the time wantin’ to ride ’em and play with ’em and wouldn’t neither of us get a lick of work done. She’d be feedin’ ’em cookies and things too—likely make ’em sick. And a sick elephant!”

  “Yes, it’s a big sickness,” said Freddy. “But wouldn’t she want to play with the yaks, too?”

  “I forget just what yaks are like,” said Mr. Scatterthwaite, “but as I remember ’em, they’re pretty homely critters. Nothin’ anybody’d want to make a fuss over.”

  “All right,” said Freddy, getting up. “Horses and yaks it is.” And they shook hands with Mr. Scatterthwaite and said good-by.

  When they were out on the road again, Freginald said: “Do you think you ought to promise to let him have these animals? How do you know we can really get them to strike? And if they do, how are we going to get them out of their cages?”

  “You leave that to me,” said Freddy. “I may need some of you Boomschmidt animals to help, but I’ve got it all arranged. What I wanted to find out first was if we could get work for them. But I forgot about the new mill they’re building down on the flats. We’ll go down there next.”

  CHAPTER 17

  They cut down to the river road and about a mile below Centerboro came out in a field where a great many men and horses were hard at work, digging, grading, hammering, and unloading bricks and lumber and tile and bags of mortar from trucks and wagons. They all stopped work to stare at the two animals, but Freddy went straight up to a little shack which had “OFFICE” painted over the door, and went in. Freginald followed him.

  A fat man was sitting at a little table in his shirt-sleeves, drawing something on
a piece of paper. He looked up and frowned and said: “Animals outside. No animals allowed in here.”

  “Pardon me,” said Freddy politely, “but we have business here. Are you the boss?”

  “No, and you’d better not try to talk to him. He’s in a pretty bad temper today. What’s your business?”

  Freddy explained, and the fat man said: “Well, maybe you better see him. He needs more help all right. This job is two weeks behind already. You’ll find him outside somewhere.” He hesitated a minute, then he pushed the paper he had been drawing on across the table. “Here; this is what he looks like.”

  The paper was scribbled all over with pictures of a thin man and a fat man. In one the fat man was punching the thin man in the nose. In another the fat man was jumping on the thin man. In a third he was hitting him with a club. “He’s the thin one,” said the man.

  “He ought to be easy to find,” said Freginald. “Is somebody always hitting him?”

  “Well, no,” said the man. He looked embarrassed. “Well, you see, I was just drawing these pictures for fun, sort of. No, nobody ever hits him. Because he’s the boss. Though there’s some that would like to. But,” he added hurriedly, “maybe it’d be just as well if you didn’t mention that I’d been drawing any pictures. Just say I was working hard.”

  “Sure,” said Freddy. “I get you. Come on, Fredg.”

  “It’s a poor workman that makes fun of the boss behind his back,” he said as they walked away from the shack. “It don’t take a detective to know that. Ah, there he is.”

  A thin man in a derby hat was coming toward them. Freddy went up to him and said: “I understand you need some extra teams on this job.”

  “I do,” said the boss, whose name was McGinnis, “but not so bad that I could use you two.” And he grinned pleasantly at them. “I’d counted on hiring teams from these farmers around here. But they’re all getting in their hay this week.” He kept right on walking, and Freddy trotted beside him.

  “I’m in a position,” said the pig, “to supply you with up to twenty teams, if you can supply the wagons. And it won’t cost you anything except just to feed them.”

  “I can use ’em,” said the boss. “Bring ’em along.” Then he stopped and looked at Freddy. “Golly!” he said. “I forgot for a minute that you were a pig. I know you. You’re the detective. What’s the idea—goin’ in the contracting business?”

  “In a way,” said Freddy. “I’ve got fifty or sixty unemployed animals to find jobs for. Circus animals—”

  “Oh, then it’s no good,” said Mr. McGinnis. “It’s horses I want.”

  “Some are horses, and the others can all do just as much work as horses. Some of ’em can do more. I’ll guarantee that.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” said the boss, “but it won’t do. Get a lot of circus animals down here, and you know what’d happen? The place would be so jammed with sightseers that we couldn’t do a tap of work.”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” said Freddy. “Two circuses have been in Centerboro over a week now. The people are tired of the animals—don’t want to look at them any more. A few might come. But we’ll agree to keep them out of the way. We’ll police the place with a couple of alligators.”

  “H’m,” said Mr. McGinnis thoughtfully. “I’ve never done business with a pig before. But I’m not one to think that a thing’s bad just because it has never been done before. All right, young fellow. Bring ’em along. Give my assistant in the shack there a list of how much fodder you’ll need and we’ll get it for you. And if you help me to get this job done on time, there’ll be something in it for you, too.”

  With the food problem solved, Freddy set about organizing the strike. He had already talked with most of the Hackenmeyer animals, so that very little remained to be done except arrange for their escape. He went back to the circus with Freginald and stayed to supper and they had a long conference with Leo, Hannibal, and Eustace. And finally they hit on a plan.

  Freddy went back to the Bean farm and returned after dark with three of his most trustworthy rabbits—Nos. 6, 27, and 34—whom he sent off at once to warn the Hackenmeyer animals to be prepared. It was nearly three hours before they came hopping back silently to announce that Mr. Hackenmeyer and his men had all gone to bed and that the animals were all ready. A little later Eustace, who had gone with them, came back.

  “There’s only one cage,” he said, “that we can’t open. It isn’t a cage, really; it’s a wagon with two little windows that you can’t see through and a door locked with a heavy padlock. None of the other animals seem to know much about it. They said that it’s supposed to contain a very ferocious gorilla, but nobody’s ever seen him and he’s never exhibited. Only Mr. Hackenmeyer and the Indian, Pedro, ever go into it. Pedro takes a tray covered with a napkin in three times a day.”

  “We’d better let it alone, then,” said Freginald. “It won’t make any difference. Hackenmeyer can’t give a circus with one gorilla.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” said Leo impatiently. “Let’s go.”

  “We’d better wait till Mr. Boomschmidt gets to sleep,” said Freginald. “If he found out what we’re doing he’d probably stop us.”

  So they sat waiting and talking in undertone until a faint regular sound began to be heard. It was a peaceful, comfortable sound, something between a tiger’s purr and the mutter of surf on a lonely beach. It grew and swelled, louder and louder. It was Mr. Boomschmidt snoring.

  “Well, he’s going good now,” said Hannibal. “Let’s go, boys.”

  They went quietly out and down the river road past the Hackenmeyer tents, then turned in across a field and came up on the other circus from the back, where the elephants were picketed. The others waited and Hannibal went on ahead, moving as quietly as a cat. This was the hardest part of their task, for the elephants were fastened to big stakes by chains about their forefeet, and while with Hannibal’s help they could pull up the stakes, one jingle from the chains and the whole camp would be awake.

  It seemed like an hour to Freginald before they came, moving like great gray ghosts through the darkness, each elephant carrying a stake in his trunk and walking so carefully that only once was there a faint clink as the links of a chain held too loosely caught on a bush. They went past and down the road toward the mill site.

  Freginald followed Leo. They passed Hannibal, who had opened the monkey cage and was instructing its occupants how to untie the horses, and then they were among the wagons. Eager faces looked out as they pulled out the pins and swung the doors carefully open. Freginald released two hyenas, a gnu, and a grizzly bear who said genially: “Hi, brother!” and gave him a slap on the back that nearly drove the wind out of him. Then he came to Rajah’s cage.

  Here he hesitated. He remembered that it was in this cage that Mr. Hackenmeyer had wanted to put him. And Lucky had said that this tiger was a pretty tough customer. But Rajah snarled impatiently, so he pulled out the pin.

  The tiger came out with a bound. “Out the back way and down the road,” Freginald whispered.

  Rajah grinned. “Back way, nothing,” he said. “Me and Hack are going to have a little talk first. Just a little friendly talk. Maybe he’ll invite me to have something to eat.” And he laughed under his breath.

  “You can’t do that,” said Freginald firmly. “You’ll spoil the whole thing. You’ll rouse the camp and half the animals won’t get away.”

  “They won’t need to get away,” said Rajah, “not when there isn’t any more Mr. Hackenmeyer to bully ’em. Stand aside, young bear. I don’t want to hurt you but I’ve got a bone to pick with Hack. Ha, a bone to pick—that’s a good one, eh?”

  “Very funny,” muttered a deep voice behind him. Hannibal had come up behind him and stood with his trunk curled up and his long white tusks close to the tiger’s side. “Move on, Rajah, or I’ll do some bone-picking myself, and there’ll be a nice tigerskin rug in Mr. Boomschmidt’s parlor.”

  Rajah flattened his ear
s and backed away. Then all at once his ears pricked up and he grinned. “Right,” he said good-naturedly. “I beg your pardon, elephant. I won’t spoil the party.” And he slouched off after the other animals.

  After that everything went smoothly. In an hour every animal had been marched out of the camp. Even the zebras, who are a silly giggly lot usually, always trying to be funny at the wrong time, got away without waking anyone.

  At half past seven in the morning, when Mr. McGinnis reached the construction job, the animals were ready for him. With the exception of two horses and two yaks, who had been sent over to the Scatterthwaite place, they were lined up in pairs, ready for his inspection. He walked down the line, followed by Freddy, Freginald, and Leo, chuckling to himself. “Bear!” he said. “Buffaloes! Reindeer! Boy, oh boy! What a job this is going to be! Anybody got a camera? I’ll want a picture of myself driving a team of tigers to send to my old mother in County Mayo.”

  As soon as he had looked the animals over, his men began harnessing them up. Some of the harness had to be altered a good deal, but by noon they were all at work. They were so happy to be away from Mr. Hackenmeyer that they shouted and sang and worked twice as hard as the regular horse teams. One of the lion teams, hauling building materials from the Centerboro freight yard to the job, made the return trip of four miles with a full load of bricks in twenty-six minutes flat. The smaller animals worked too, holding things and running errands and so on. Mr. McGinnis was delighted. Even the fat man was so caught up by the general spirit that he stopped drawing pictures of what he would like to do to the boss and started to put in a full day’s work.

  Freginald and Leo stayed until they were sure that everything was going smoothly, and then they said good-by to Mr. McGinnis. They had just turned to leave when Rod, the trick horse, came galloping into the field, and perched on top of him was a small round figure in a bright plaid suit and a silk hat.

  “Gosh,” said Leo, “Mr. Boomschmidt! I’m going to beat it.” And he ducked quickly behind a pile of lumber.