The Story of Freginald Read online

  The elephants wheeled to the left to protect the broken line, but Mr. Boomschmidt waved to the rhinoceros. “Break in the front door,” he shouted. Jerry backed off to the edge of the woods to get a good start, pawed the ground twice, then drove like a black battering-ram straight at the house. Both sides stopped fighting a moment to watch. And the old bull laughed deep in his throat. For he knew that behind that door was a barricade of grain-bags and heavy furniture that even a rhinoceros could not break through.

  Now, Jerry was no brighter than most rhinoceroses, which amounts to saying that he wasn’t bright at all. For one thing, his eyes were weak, so that he couldn’t see exactly where the door was, and for another, he always closed them when he charged so that he wouldn’t get dust in them. So he missed one of the pillars and a bad headache by a quarter of an inch and hit the side of the house a good three feet to the left of the door, where there was no barricade. And with a terrible crash he went right through.

  And there were two smaller crashes inside as he went through the partitions from the parlor into the dining-room and from the dining-room into the kitchen, and then another terrible crash, and there he was galloping off into the woods on the other side. He had gone right through the house.

  In the meantime Leo and Freginald, working with tooth and claw, had ripped up several boards in the attic floor. Below, between the beams, was the lath and plaster of the ceiling underneath.

  “We’ll have to dive through,” said Freginald. “If we try to break it away so we can crawl through, the guards will hear us and they’ve got awful sharp horns.”

  “Right,” said Leo. “Are you ready? Let’s go.” So they shut their eyes and dove.

  The crash they made was a pretty good one, but the guards didn’t hear it, for they were looking over the banisters to see Jerry. Freginald and Leo caught them there and with a good shove sent them rolling down the stairs, horns over tail. Then they sat down to have a good sneezing fit to get the plaster out of their noses.

  But they hadn’t gained much. The hall downstairs was full of the enemy. A goat who had got in the way when Jerry came through the house was lying in a corner with a pillow under his head, but the rest of the animals were pretty mad. Twice they tried to rush the stairs and both times there was a good sharp fight before they were beaten back. And at last a party of dogs came up the back stairs, and Freginald and Leo had to retreat to a big room over the porch which had been Colonel Yancey’s bedroom.

  “Anyway,” said Leo, “we can see what is going on from here, and we couldn’t from the stairs.” So they propped a bureau against the door and went to the window.

  The bull had re-formed his company and drawn them up about the house. A few had been cut off and chased into the woods, and the alligators and Uncle Bill had put several others out of commission. On the other hand, Oscar, who had done a good deal of damage in the open fighting by chasing the cattle and kicking them, had finally sprained his toe. And a Mr. Gissing, one of the stablemen, had been tossed into a tree by the bull and wouldn’t come down again.

  For a moment the battle was at a standstill. The bull hesitated to risk another charge, and Mr. Boomschmidt didn’t like to order even the elephants to advance upon the forest of sharp horns. And while they were getting their breath, there was a loud crash, and two small crashes, and then a terrible crash. And there was Jerry. He had run half a mile before he realized that he had gone through the house. Because he had had his eyes shut. So then he turned around and shut his eyes and came back through it again.

  He came up to Mr. Boomschmidt and said: “How’m I doing, boss?”

  “Fine, Jerry. Fine,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Isn’t he doing fine, Hannibal?”

  “Shall I take another crack at it?” asked Jerry.

  “Well, if you think it’s all right,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “I don’t want you to get a headache, Jerry. Goodness, it makes my head ache just to watch you.”

  “Pooh!” said Jerry. “A little old frame house! Takes more than that to make my head ache.”

  “He hasn’t got much to ache, you know, sir,” said Hannibal.

  “Oh, is that so!” said the rhinoceros. And then he thought a minute and said: “Is that so!” Rhinoceroses are never much good at repartee. Their minds are too slow. Although if Jerry could have gone off by himself to think it over for half an hour, he would probably have come back with something pretty good. Hannibal slapped him good-naturedly on the back with his trunk. “Sorry, old boy,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. See here, suppose I aim you this time. If you hit one of those pillars, something’s going to ache, and ache hard.” So he aimed Jerry, and said: “One, two, three—go!” And Jerry drove at the house again, puffing like a steam engine, and there were four crashes as before, but this time they were followed by a crackling and splitting sound, and one corner of the house leaned over toward the ground.

  At this the bull stepped out in the open space between the two parties. “Hey, look here,” he growled. “No sense smashing our house down. Let’s settle this sensibly. I’ll fight any one of your party you name. If I win you hand over my lieutenant and go away. If I lose, we give up the lion and the bear. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Why, good gracious, yes,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Didn’t you know that? Why, my goodness, Hannibal, what does he think we came here for?”

  “Yes, yes,” said the bull impatiently. “Of course I know what you’re here for. My question didn’t require an answer.”

  “Then why did you ask it?” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Dear me, haven’t we enough to do without asking each other foolish questions?”

  The bull snorted angrily and Hannibal said: “I’ll fight him, sir.”

  But Mr. Boomschmidt didn’t like that idea. “No, Hannibal,” he said, “it wouldn’t be fair. You’re so much bigger than he is.”

  “Well, it wasn’t fair of him to lock up Leo and Freginald, either.”

  “That’s true,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “My word, how true that isl Still—Now, Hannibal, what would you think if we had Jerry fight him? That is, of course, if Jerry is willing.”

  “Fine,” said Hannibal. “If Jerry gets a direct hit on the old robber he’ll knock him into the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.”

  “I don’t know just where that is,” said Mr. Boomschmidt, “and I bet you don’t either, Hannibal. I think we ought to find out. Louise, you’re good at geography. Can you tell us where the Gulf of Mexico is?”

  But before Louise could answer, Hannibal said: “I think it’s more important to find out where Jerry is. And you’ll let me aim him, won’t you, sir?”

  At that moment there was a crash—crash, crash—CRASH! And Jerry came chugging through the house in a cloud of plaster dust. On the sagging roof the east chimney wobbled a moment then collapsed in a rumble of cascading bricks.

  “Do you want to fight the bull, Jerry?” Mr. Boomschmidt asked.

  “Sure,” said Jerry, dropping his nose and shutting his eyes, which he had only just again opened. “Where is he? Am I headed right?”

  “Wait a minute,” yelled the animals, and Mr. Boomschmidt said: “We have to arrange the terms. There’s just one other thing, bull. If you are beaten you’ll have to give up this nonsense about being Confederates. You’re just a lot of gangsters, using the Confederacy as an excuse to steal from your neighbors. Besides, the North and South are now one country, and you are defying the law of the United States. And as a law-abiding and patriotic citizen—”

  “All right, all right,” interrupted the bull with a harsh laugh. “Don’t make a speech about it. We’ll agree to give up the Confederacy—if you win. Now let’s stop talking and get to fighting.”

  “He seems awfully sure of winning,” said Freginald to Leo, as they leaned out of the window and anxiously watched the preparations for the duel.

  “Not a chance,” said the lion. “Boy, Jerry’ll knock that bull so flat he’ll look as if he was painted on the ground.”

 
CHAPTER 9

  The bull went to the far end of the barnyard. Hannibal got behind Jerry and, shutting one eye, aimed him carefully. Then Mr. Boomschmidt shouted: “Go!” and both animals lowered their heads and charged.

  The watchers held their breath, waiting for the smack when the two met head on. But just a fraction of a second before they collided, the bull leaped sideways, then checked his speed and trotted slowly to the near end of the barnyard, while Jerry tore on and disappeared into the woods.

  “Coward!” yelled the circus animals. “Stand up and fight!”

  But the bull merely shrugged his heavy shoulders and sat down to wait for his antagonist to return. After three or four minutes, when Jerry reappeared at the edge of the woods, he got up and walked forward, and as soon as Jerry saw him, he charged. But this time, without anyone to aim him, he came nowhere near the bull, who indeed didn’t even bother to gallop toward him, but merely stood and watched him thunder by.

  The fight went on like this for some time. The rhinoceros charged back and forth and the bull avoided him easily. At the end of Jerry’s charges at the near end of the field the circus animals had several times to do some quick dodging to avoid being hit. They shouted and stormed at the bull, who wasn’t even out of breath, but he only grunted at them, and the robbers began to laugh.

  After the eighth charge Mr. Boomschmidt began to be worried. Jerry was getting tired. His panting could be heard for half a mile. Evidently the bull meant to wear him down until he could no longer run, and then he would step in and worry him with his long horns.

  “Good gracious,” said Mr. Boomschmidt, “this is terrible! Can’t you suggest anything, Hannibal? Can’t any of you suggest anything?”

  They all looked at one another hopelessly for a minute. Then Oscar, who had been fidgeting uneasily for some time, suddenly shouted: “Oh, you all stand around and talk! You make me tired. I’m going to do something. You watch.” And limping slightly because of his sprained toe, he ran out toward the bull.

  “Come back. Come back, Oscar,” they called. But he paid no attention. He circled about the bull, who kept pivoting to face him with his horns.

  “Get back on the side lines,” said the bull. “You’re breaking the rules.”

  “Indeed!” said Oscar. “And pray what are you going to do about it?” He danced on his long legs—left, right, then darted in and kicked the bull under the chin.

  Now, an ostrich has a kick that is as strong as a mule’s. The bull shook his head, bellowed, and rushed. But Oscar wasn’t there.

  The robbers were yelling angrily and some of them were beginning to form up for a charge. “We’ll have to get him out of there, Hannibal,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. Hannibal stepped forward, and as the ostrich came past he slung his long trunk about his neck and pulled him back.

  “Come along, stupid,” he said good-naturedly. “This is Jerry’s fight.”

  Oscar complained in his snippy voice. “Really, Hannibal! You’re exceeding your authority. Kindly release me at once.”

  It is no use trying to explain to an ostrich, though few people realize it. It isn’t because they are really stupid, but they are so vain they won’t listen. It didn’t occur to Oscar that he was breaking the rules of the fight. He was too busy being mad at Hannibal for trying—as he supposed—to deprive him of the glory of defeating the bull. Hannibal knew this, however, so he didn’t say anything, but just kept a firm hold of Oscar’s neck.

  In the meantime Jerry was preparing slowly to make another charge. “He’s weakening,” said Mr. Boomschmidt sadly. “Oh, I wish somebody could think of something!”

  And just then a little head popped out of the breast pocket where he carried his red checkered handkerchief and said: “May I suggest something?”

  “Eustace!” exclaimed Mr. Boomschmidt. “My goodness, I told you not to come. You’re too small. You might get hurt. I thought you were at home in your house.”

  “Oh, I had to come, chief,” said Eustace. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. I sneaked in here early this morning. But listen. I’ve got an idea.”

  “An idea! “ Mr. Boomschmidt cried. “My word, we need one. Listen to that, Hannibal. Eustace has an idea. Well, Eustace, it’s no good where it is. Suppose you give it to me.”

  So Eustace climbed up on Mr. Boomschmidt’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. And as Mr. Boomschmidt listened, the frown and the worried lines all disappeared from his face, which became as round and shining and delighted as it usually was, and he slapped his knee and said: “I do believe you’ve got it!” He shouted to Jerry to wait a minute, and he climbed down from Hannibal’s back and went over and tied his red checkered handkerchief on the long horn on the rhinoceros’s nose. And then he slapped Jerry on the shoulder and said: “Good boy! I guess this will be the last time, so make it a good one.” And he aimed him and said: “Go!”

  When the bull saw the rhinoceros start he shook his head and trotted slowly toward him as he had each time before. But when he got closer he saw the red handkerchief. Now, bulls get mad pretty easily anyway, but when they see anything red it makes them simply furious. They just put their heads down and go for, it. And so when this bull caught sight of the flutter of red he forgot all about his plan to tire Jerry out, and he gave a dreadful deep bellow and dropped his head almost to the ground and dug in his hoofs and went thundering down the field like a runaway truck. But Jerry knew that Mr. Boomschmidt wanted him to make this a good one, so he gave it everything he had got. And that was a good deal, for rhinoceroses are among our oldest families and have lots of stamina. He looked pretty invincible as he drove snorting like a steam engine up the field.

  It was over in a second. There was a terrible smack as the two animals met forehead to forehead. They went right up in the air for a second. And then the bull was lying on his back with his hoofs in the air and the red handkerchief around one horn, and Jerry was trotting around in a circle, shaking his head.

  The circus animals gave a loud cheer and rushed out into the field. Jerry came up to Mr. Boomschmidt. “What’s the matter with the bull?” he asked.

  “You hit him,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “My goodness, that was grand, Jerry. You hit him right between the horns.”

  “Thought I hit one of those porch pillars,” said Jerry. “Felt like it.” He shook his head again. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid I’ve got a headache coming on.”

  The circus animals crowded around him with shouts and congratulations. The robbers came slowly forward. There was no fight left in them. The def eat of their captain had broken their courage.

  Jerry went over to the bull and nudged him. “Hey, bull,” he said. “You O.K.?”

  The bull opened one eye. “Where am I?” he said weakly.

  “You’re among friends,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Friends and fellow citizens, by cracky, now that there isn’t any more Confederacy.”

  The bull groaned. “I—I struck something,” he said feebly.

  “It was me,” said Jerry. “Where were you at all the time, anyway? I couldn’t find you.”

  “Go away,” said the bull, and closed his eye again.

  Out of the house came Leo and Freginald. Their coats were white with plaster dust, and Mr. Boomschmidt threw up his hands when he saw them. “My, my!” he said. “What a terrible experience you have had! Why, it has turned your hair quite white.”

  “It’s just plaster, chief,” said Leo. “Too bad; a white lion and a white bear—that would be something to show people, eh? Well, Fredg, let’s get it off.” And he began whacking at his coat so vigorously that the dust got into Mr. Boomschmidt’s nose and made him sneeze so hard that his hat fell off.

  Whatever Mr. Boomschmidt did he did thoroughly and he continued to sneeze for some time. But at last he got the better of it, and then he had the circus all line up and marched the robbers out of the house with all the honors of war. As a special courtesy the band played Dixie, and this pleased them very much. Even the bull roused up and took his pl
ace at their head as they marched around the field, although he still seemed a little dazed.

  After that Mr. Boomschmidt went up on the porch of the house and fastened an American flag to one of the pillars and said: “In the name of the President and the Congress of the United States of America in solemn conclave assembled I hereby declare the Confederacy dissolved and abolished in the names of the parties aforesaid and hereinbefore mentioned and by virtue of the authority invested in me as director and sole owner of Boomschmidt’s Colossal and Unparalleled Circus do proclaim this house and properties adjoining as henceforth part and parcel of the state or nation heretofore designated as the United States of America and the inhabitants thereof as citizens of the aforesaid United States of America henceforward without let, hindrance, or stay wheresoever, howsoever, and whensoever constituted.”

  Then the band played The Star Spangled Banner and the robbers filed past and saluted the flag. And when this was done, Mr. Boomschmidt rewarded the courage of Jerry and the resourcefulness of Eustace by presenting each of them with one of his red checkered handkerchiefs. He sneezed again when he was making the presentation to Eustace and nearly blew the mouse off the porch, but otherwise the ceremony was very. impressive.

  The bull was pretty pleased with the whole thing and especially with the flag. “I suppose Colonel Yancey would have a fit if he saw that flag over the door,” he said, “but he’s been gone over seventy years, so I reckon he won’t ever see it. And it’s a mighty pretty one. But there’s one thing bothers me, Mr. Boomschmidt. I admit getting a living by robbing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and I for one will be glad to give it up. But what can we do? Don’t you want to take us along with you, sir?”