Freddy the Pied Piper

by Walter R. Brooks

  Uncle Wesley moved away and stood on the bank, looking down at the water with dignity and an occasional shiver, while Edward, with Alice on one side and Emma on the other, preceded him down the hill.

  “I suppose you’ve quite recovered from your frostbite, Edward?” Freddy said.

  Edward stopped. “You girls go along,” he said. “We’ll follow you.” He fell in beside Freddy. “Sure,” he said. “I’m all right now.”

  “Got your eyes open, anyhow,” said Freddy with a grin.

  The duck said: “Nice little house the girls have here, isn’t it? Lots nicer than the coop I have at Witherspoons’.”

  “Very nice,” said Freddy drily. “Made up your mind which one you want to marry yet?”

  “Oh, that!” Edward said. He looked doubtfully at the pig, then gave a chuckle. “Frankly, old chap, I’ve rather given up the idea of marriage. You see, if I do say it that shouldn’t, they’ve got very fond of me. And if I chose one, d’ye see, the other would be pretty disappointed. I hate to give pain. So-o-o,—well, I thought I’d just stay on for a while as a guest. They’ve given me a very nice guest room and bring me my breakfast every morning. We’re all cousins together—a happy family, you might say.”

  “So I might,” said Freddy. “But you’re Mr. Witherspoon’s duck. Won’t he want you back?”

  “You know old Witherspoon—how tight he is,” said Edward. “If I’m getting three meals a day that he doesn’t have to pay for, he’ll be satisfied. No, Freddy,” he said seriously, “they’ve really adopted me as a cousin, and it’s pretty nice having a family. I was brought up by a hen, you know—always had to play with chickens—had no brothers or sisters, no family life at all.”

  “I suppose that was what made you so bashful,” said Freddy. “You seem to have got over it pretty well.”

  “That’s a funny thing, Freddy. I don’t say I’ve got over it entirely. But when folks are as nice and considerate as Alice and Emma are,—well, your bashfulness kind of goes away.”

  Freddy wondered if Edward had really been as bashful as he made out, but he didn’t say so. When they got down to the barnyard, Alice and Emma took charge of their new cousin, and took him to call on all their friends. They would introduce him, and then they would stand back and admire him, nodding proudly at each other every time he opened his bill to say “Pleased to meet you,” as if he had uttered words of the most profound wisdom. They treated him, indeed, very much as they had used to treat Uncle Wesley, in the old days before they had found out what a pompous old fraud he really was. But what really bothered the animals was the way they fluttered and tittered. They acted downright silly.

  Jinx got Alice aside after a while and asked her bluntly when the wedding was to be, and who was to be the happy bride.

  Alice bridled. “Oh, that nonsense!” she said.

  “I thought he’d fallen in love with you both,” he said.

  “Oh, dear, no; that was all just a joke, that valentine. We understood that, Jinx. And you know, neither of us would want to get married. And having a husband around—goodness, look at Henrietta and all the trouble she has with that Charles!”

  Later Jinx and Freddy and Mrs. Wiggins talked it over. It was very nice for Edward to have a comfortable home and be waited on hand and foot, but it was kind of hard on poor Uncle Wesley.

  “I hate to see Emma and Alice acting so silly,” Freddy said. “When really that Edward is just imposing on them.”

  “He’s too fresh,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “I can’t abide a fresh duck.”

  “You said the other day you couldn’t abide a bashful duck,” Jinx said. “Make up your mind, cow.”

  “I can’t stand either of ’em,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “This Edward seems to be two ducks, and I don’t like either of them.”

  “How about roast duck?” said Jinx.

  “My goodness, that gives me an idea!” Freddy said. “Look, do we really want to get rid of Edward?”

  They agreed that they did. So that afternoon Freddy walked up into the woods and then swung around down to the duck pond as if he was coming from Witherspoons’. Alice and Emma and Edward were testing the water of the pond with their feet, undecided whether to go for the first swim of the season or not. Alice and Emma giggled and gave little quacking squeals, and Alice splashed water on Edward. “You’re so brave, Edward,” she said. “I know you’re just pretending. You’re just laughing at us poor timid girls!” Uncle Wesley sat gloomily on the bank with his back to them.

  “Hi, Edward!” Freddy called. “Come here a minute. Look,” he said in a low urgent voice. “I was just over at Witherspoons’ and they were looking for you.”

  “Let ’em look,” said Edward with a grin.

  “O.K,” said Freddy. “But from what they said, I think they know where you are. And there’s something else they said too.” He hesitated. “I hardly know how to tell you. But I must. It’s Mrs. Witherspoon’s birthday tomorrow, and—well, they’re planning on roast duck for the birthday dinner.”

  Edward gave kind of a chattering quack, and staggered a little as he looked with consternation at the pig.

  “They spoke of—of sage and onions,” said Freddy sadly.

  Edward stood perfectly still for a minute. Then he looked up suddenly at Freddy. “Say goodbye to everybody for me,” he said, and then spread his wings and with a whoosh! was gone over the treetops.

  “Gracious!” Emma exclaimed. “Where’s Cousin Edward going? It’s almost dinner time.”

  “Yes,” Freddy said. “That’s what I told him.”

  Chapter 12

  The animals had a pretty uneventful trip south. They were seen and followed once or twice by hunters, but now that the snow was gone it was easy enough to throw any pursuers off the track. Jinx had decided to come along. He had got so interested in painting that he hated to leave his studio, but as he said, he had the rest of his life to paint in, while a chance to have all sorts of adventures in good company didn’t come very often. He ended by taking his paints along, packed with a double rule of molasses cookies Mrs. Bean had baked for them, and the rest of their baggage in the saddlebags attached to Jerry’s saddle. Mrs. Bean had made the saddlebags out of an old blanket. Jerry was very proud of the saddle the prisoners at the jail had made for him, and wore it even when he went to bed.

  Jinx didn’t have any chance to paint on the road, for there was a lot to see and they traveled steadily. They sang a good deal—the old marching song that the Bean animals had sung on the trip to Florida, and the Boomschmidt marching song, and the campaign song Freddy had written when Mrs. Wiggins had been a candidate for the presidency of the First Animal Republic. Freddy didn’t have time to compose new songs, but he did make up some verses to the tune of Froggy Went a-Courting. They were about Edward, and they went like this:

  Edward went a-Courting, he did waddle, h’m—h’m.

  Edward went a’courting, he did waddle

  Through the brook and over the puddle, h’m—h’m; quack—quack.

  He came to Lady Alice’s hall, h’m—h’m.

  He came to Lady Emma’s hall

  And his feet were so cold he could hardly crawl, h’m—h’m; quack—quack.

  He took Lady Alice on his knee, h’m—h’m.

  He took Lady Emma on his other knee,

  And he said: “Will the both of you marry me?” quack—quack; quack—quack.

  Lady Alice giggled and shook her head, tee—hee.

  Lady Emma tittered, and they both said:

  “We’ll ask Uncle Wesley if we can wed,” tee—hee; quack—quack.

  Uncle Wesley came and he said: “No, no!” h’m—h’m.

  Uncle Wesley growled and he said: “No, no!”

  But they pushed Uncle Wesley out in the snow, quack—quack; no—no.

  Where shall the wedding supper be? h’m—h’m.

  Where shall the wedding supper be?

  Down in the barnyard under the tree, h’m—h’m; h’m—h’m.


  The first that came was Jinx, the cat, meouw—meouw.

  The first that came was Jinx the cat,

  He wore high boots and a big plug hat, h’m—h’m; meouw—meouw.

  The next that came was Leo, the lion, woof—woof.

  The next that came was Leo, the lion,

  With his claws manicured and his mane a-flyin’, h’m—h’m; woof—woof.

  The next that came was the rhinocer-us, umph—umph.

  The next that came was the rhinocer-us,

  And he ate so much that he almost bust, h’m—h’m; umph—umph.

  The next that came was Freddy, the pig, oink—oink.

  The next that came was Freddy, the pig,

  And with the bridegroom danced a jig, oink—oink; quack—quack.

  The last that came was old Witherspoon, O dear!

  With an axe in his hand came old Witherspoon

  And chopped off his head by the light of the moon, O dear! h’m—h’m.

  And that was the end of the bashful duck, h’m—h’m.

  And that was the end of the bashful duck;

  To end on a platter was just his luck, quack—quack; h’m—h’m.

  This made a good song, because they could change it every time they sang it and make up new verses. Even Jerry made up one, and it wasn’t a bad one either, about the next that came being the rhino, Jerry, whose home was on the wide, wide prairie. And when one of them had made a new verse, they’d all sing it as a quartet. Freddy carried the air, and Jinx sang a kind of wailing tenor, and Leo sang bass, and I don’t know what you’d call what Jerry did. He had a grunt that was as deep as a bull fiddle, and when he hit the right note it sounded real nice.

  It grew warmer as they traveled southward, and pretty soon they met the spring, which was traveling northward, and the grass was green and the trees in bud, and there was arbutus in the woods and thousands of birds, traveling up with the spring. They would have liked to ask the birds for news of any of the other circus animals that they might have seen, but the birds were much too anxious to get home and start repairing the damage that winter storms had done to their old nests to bother answering questions.

  Early that afternoon they came down through some pine woods on to a hillside overlooking a wide, shallow valley. Down in the valley a racetrack was laid out, at one side of which was a grandstand, and flags were flying from the grandstand, into which crowds of people were pouring. Blanketed horses were being led around in an enclosure near the track and it was plain that there was going to be a race.

  Everybody likes to see a race, so when Jinx suggested that they sneak down along the fence and get up close to the track on the east side where there was a little clump of trees, they started down. There was so much going on around the track that they reached the trees without attracting attention, and while they were waiting for the race to begin they decided to have lunch. Freddy had just started on his second cookie when a creaky voice said: “Y’all got anything to eat?”

  The heads of the four animals jerked up as if they had been pulled by a string, and they saw a large buzzard sitting on a limb above them. His plumage was as rusty as his voice, and one round greedy eye was fixed on the open cookie box.

  “Thank you, yes; we have plenty,” said Freddy with a grin.

  “I ain’t askin’ if y’all got enough,” said the buzzard. “I’m askin’, could you spare a bite?”

  “Oh, go away,” said Jinx. “We haven’t got anything you’d like anyway; we know what buzzards eat—just garbage.”

  “We prefer to call it left-overs,” said the buzzard, looking reproachfully at the cat. “Buzzards, mister,” he went on, “just clean up after untidy folks, like it might be you all, leavin’ crumbs and banana skins all over nice clean landscapes.”

  “Well, there won’t be any left-overs here, or any garbage either,” said Jinx, “so you might as well beat it.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Freddy. “You—what’s your name?”

  “Phil,” said the buzzard.

  “Well, Phil, if you can help us, we’ll give you one of our cookies. We’re looking for some animals that used to be with a circus, and maybe you’ve seen some of them.” And he explained about Mr. Boomschmidt’s animals.

  But Phil shook his head. “They sound like right pretty animals,” he said, “but in these yere woods there’s only coons and foxes and squirrels and a few deer and possums. Tell you what there is, though,” he said; “there’s a big old snake lives down in the swamp t’other side the racetrack. He’s twenty, twenty-five feet long, I reckon, and he’s kind of a curiosity around these parts. He’s—”

  “Well, clip my whiskers!” interrupted Leo. “I wonder if that’s Willy. Remember Willy, Freddy—our boa constrictor? What color is he, Phil? How’s he marked?”

  “Mister,” said the buzzard, “he can be pink with yellow stripes and a long green moustache for all I know or care. I don’t go round measurin’ no snakes.”

  “We’ll have to go down there,” said Jinx. “Well, Phil, here’s your pay.” And he tossed him a cookie.

  Leo watched the buzzard as he smacked his beak over the cookie. “You must be from the south, Phil, from your talk.”

  “From the south! I ain’t from the south, Yankee; I’m at the south. Virginia’s my home.”

  “Virginia!” Freddy exclaimed. “You mean we’re in Virginia already?”

  Phil assured them that they were, and a little questioning brought out the fact that they were within ten miles of Yare’s Corners, which was just over the mountain from the Boomschmidt place. They were discussing whether to push on at once, or to watch a race or two first, when two of the track officials came riding in among the trees. They had caught sight of the animals through their field glasses, and had come over to investigate.

  “Jumping Moses, a lion!” said one.

  “What is this—a menagerie?” said the other, who was a thin, middle-aged man with a wisp of grey whisker on his chin.

  The first one said: “A lion and a pig and a cat and a—well, what is it, Henry—that creature there with a saddle on?”

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” said Freddy politely. “May I present my friend? He’s a rhinoceros. Jerry, this is—ah—”

  “Major Hornby,” said the first man, bowing. “And this is Mr. Bleech, Henry Bleech. Are you … I see this saddle on—on Jerry,—are you planning to enter the third race?”

  “No,” said Freddy. “No, we were just watching—”

  “We ought to have him, Major,” said Mr. Bleech eagerly. “He’d be a great drawing card, this rhin—whatever he is.” He turned to Freddy. “There’s a purse of two hundred dollars, and your Jerry here—he’d have a good chance to win. You see it’s a free for all, the third race. All the other races are for horses, but the third is for any animal except horses. But we’ve only three entries—a cow, a ram, and a camel. Is your Jerry fast?”

  “A camel?” said Freddy. “Where’s he from?”

  “Belongs to some crazy old fellow over beyond Yare’s Corners that used to run a circus,” said the Major. “See here, I don’t suppose you’ve got the money for the entry fee. It would cost you ten dollars to enter Jerry in the race. But I’ll gladly pay it out of my own pocket if—”

  “We always pay our own way,” said Freddy coldly. The slighting reference to Mr. Boomschmidt had made him angry. “Excuse me.” He drew his friends aside and held a short consultation. Then he came back. “I think we’ll pay twenty dollars and enter both Jerry and Leo.”

  “That lion?” said Mr. Bleech. “See here, Major, I don’t know that I want to ride my cow in a race with a lion. Suppose the lion forgot it was a race, and decided it was a chase? Eh? Suppose—”

  “You need not worry, sir,” said Leo courteously. “I never chase cows. Personally it seems rather unsporting.”

  “Leo will have to run without a rider,” said Freddy. “Jinx will ride Jerry, because there’ll have to be somebody to steer him, but nobody could ride a lion
bareback. Is that all right?”

  Major Hornby said it was and they all started down to the paddock. On the way, Freddy fished in the saddlebags and brought out a twenty dollar bill, which he handed to the Major. He didn’t like the way Mr. Bleech eyed him when he was doing this, and when he had a chance he whispered to his friends that they’d better leave the saddlebags on during the race. A few extra pounds would make no difference to Jerry, and their money would be safe.

  The Major explained that this free for all race was a very popular feature of the local race meets, and many people who didn’t care much about horse racing would come for miles to see Mr. Bleech’s cow, Galloping Nellie, run against Stonewall Jackson, the Major’s racing ram, who were pretty evenly matched. Many more had come this time because of the camel. “And I wish we’d known beforehand that we’d have a lion and a rhinoceros,” said the Major, “so we could have advertised everywhere. Why I daresay there are people who would come fifty miles to see a race like that.”

  So great, indeed, was the interest in the new entries, that most of the spectators crowded down into the paddock, and the first two races were run with only a handful of onlookers in the grandstand. The camel was in the paddock, too. He was a supercilious, ill-natured beast named Mohammed. When he saw Leo and Jerry, he gave a start of surprise, then turned his head away. But Bill Wonks, who was leading him, shouted and waved, and started to push through the crowd towards his old friends, when the third race was announced. “See you later,” Bill called, then whacked Mohammed on the shins to make him kneel, so that he could get on his back.

  The crowd dashed for their seats, and as Jinx leaped into the saddle and Jerry and Leo filed out after the camel on to the track, Freddy joined Major Hornby in his box in the front of the grandstand. Through the Major’s field glasses he looked at the contestants as they lined up at the start.

  “That’s my son, Forrest, on Stonewall,” said the Major, pointing to a boy of ten or eleven who was mounted on the ram. “Broke and trained Stonewall himself, and don’t think that ram can’t run. Trouble is, he hasn’t any sense of direction—he ran the whole race in the wrong direction around the track last fall. He and Nellie met at the finish line, but Stonewall crossed it first. Of course the judges decided for Nellie, because she’d gone the right way. Didn’t seem quite fair to me. It’s the same distance either way.”