Freddy the Detective

by Walter R. Brooks

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Charles, “it is with a great sense of my own inadequacy that I venture to address this distinguished meeting. We have gathered here this evening to pay tribute to the genius—and I use the word ‘genius’ without fear of denial—of one of our number, a simple farm animal, who yet, by virtue of his great talents, his dogged determination, and his pleasing personality, has risen to a position of trust and responsibility never before occupied by any animal. I refer, ladies and gentlemen, to Freddy, the detective.” He paused for the cheers, then continued. “It has been said of Freddy that ‘he always gets his animal.’ But his career is too well known to all of you for me to dwell upon its successive stages.”—

  “Yeah, I guess it is!” remarked Jinx sarcastically. “Why don’t he get those rats then?”

  “And,” Charles continued without heeding the interruption, “who am I to come before you with suggestions concerning a subject about which he to whom I refer knows more than any living animal?”—

  “I’ll tell you who you are!” shouted the cat, who was always thoroughly exasperated by Charles’s long-windedness. “You’re a silly rooster, and if Henrietta catches you up there making a speech again, she’ll make some suggestions you won’t like!”

  “Shut up! Put him out!” shouted the animals, and Jinx subsided. But Charles was seen to shiver slightly. For Henrietta, his wife, didn’t approve of his public speaking, and she had been heard to threaten to pull out the handsome tail-feathers he was so proud of if she caught him at it again.

  Presently, however, he recovered himself and went on, though somewhat hurriedly. “I do not wish to detain you unduly, so I will proceed to the matter of which I wish to speak: the matter of selecting a judge. Now, it is not easy to be a judge. When the prisoner is brought before the judge, he must hear all the facts in the case, and must first decide whether the prisoner is innocent or guilty. If guilty, he must then decide how long the prisoner ought to spend in jail. Now, this is not an easy task. Whoever becomes judge will have a great responsibility. He will, moreover, have very little time to himself. I feel sure that none of you animals will really want the position. But I have thought the matter over carefully, and I am willing to sacrifice myself for the public good. I wish to propose myself as judge.”

  He paused, while some of the animals applauded and some grumbled.

  “As to my qualifications for the position,” he went on, trying to look as modest as he could, which wasn’t very much, “it is hardly seemly for me to speak. You know me, my friends; whether or not I possess the wisdom, experience, and honesty necessary for this great task I leave it to you to judge. I have lived among you for many years; my record may perhaps speak for itself. I can only say that if you express your confidence in me by electing me to office, I shall do my utmost, I shall spare no labor, to be worthy of the confidence you thus express in me.” And he flew down from the buggy.

  The meeting at once divided into two parties, one for Charles and one for Peter, the bear, who was Freddy’s candidate. Most of the animals who knew Charles well were for Peter, for though they were fond of Charles, they didn’t think much of his brains. “He talks too much, and he thinks too much about himself to make a good judge,” they said. But those who didn’t know him so well made the common mistake of thinking that because he spoke well, he knew a lot. They thought that Peter had brains too, but there was a serious drawback to Peter. From December to March he was always sound asleep in his cave in the woods, so that any cases that came up in the winter would have to wait over until spring. Some of the anti-Charles party said that didn’t matter; a good judge asleep was better than a bad judge awake. But the general feeling was that it wouldn’t be a good idea to elect a judge that slept nearly half the time.

  A number of speeches were made, and the argument grew so bitter that most of the sheep went home, and two squirrels got to fighting in a corner and had to be separated before the voting could start. When the vote was counted, it was found that Charles had won.

  The rooster wanted to make a speech of acceptance, and he flew back up on the buggy seat, but he had got no further than “My friends, I extend to one and all my heartiest thanks—” when Jinx, who had disappeared during the voting, stuck his head in the door.

  “Hey, Charlie,” he called; “Henrietta wants you.”

  Charles’s sentence ended in a strangled squawk, and he jumped down and hurried outside. But Henrietta was not there. Charles looked around for a moment; then, deciding that Jinx had played a trick on him, he turned to go in, when a voice above him called: “Hi, judge! Here’s a present for you!” And plop! plop! plop!—soft and squashy things hit the ground all around him. He dashed for the door, but he was a quarter of a second too late. An over-ripe tomato struck him fair on the back and flattened him to the ground, while peals of coarse laughter came from the roof.

  He got up and shook himself. But it was no use. The handsome feathers he had cleaned and burnished so carefully for the meeting were damp and bedraggled. He could make no speech now; he couldn’t even go back into the cow-barn. A fine plight for a newly elected judge! But he knew whom he had to thank for it. Jinx had got those mischievous coons from the woods to play this childish trick on him. And he’d get even with them, see if he didn’t! They’d forgotten that he was a judge now. He’d put ’em in jail and keep ’em there, that’s what he’d do. And half-tearfully muttering threats, the new judge, after a mournful glance back at the barn, where honor and applause awaited him in vain, stumbled off across the barnyard toward the hen-coop.

  CHAPTER VI

  THE DEFEAT OF SIMON’S GANG

  On one side of the rail fence was a ditch, on the other was a cornfield. Between the corn and the fence was a lane, and down this lane Freddy was sauntering. Although it was a windless day, there were odd little rustlings and swishings all about him, and now and then a corn-stalk or a tuft of grass or a bush beside the fence would be shaken for a moment as if a breeze had passed over it. Freddy, however, did not seem to notice any of these things, but strolled along, stopping now and then, as a detective will, to examine a footprint or a stone or a mark on a fence rail.

  Presently fence and lane and ditch turned sharply to the left. Freddy turned with them, but as soon as he was round the corner, he darted quickly aside into a tangle of bushes and vines in an angle of the fence. Here, completely hidden, he lay motionless for perhaps a minute. And then a rabbit hopped into sight. It hopped along quietly, peering about sharply, but it did not see the pig and went cautiously on. Following the rabbit came Clarence, the porcupine who lived up in the woods, creeping along and trying hard to keep his quills from rattling. A squirrel ran stealthily along the fence above Freddy’s head, but so intent was he on keeping the porcupine in sight that he did not see the pig crouching below him. There was a rustling in the tall corn, and a goat stuck his head out, looked up and down the lane, then retreated as Robert, Mr. Bean’s dog, came slinking along on the porcupine’s trail.

  “Very good,” said Freddy to himself as he watched the animals go by. “Very good indeed. They’re learning.—But good gracious!” he exclaimed as a sound of trampling and crashing came from the cornfield. “That can’t be Mrs. Wiggins again. My, my! Mr. Bean will be mad!” He got up, just as the cow appeared in the lane, leaving behind her a broad path of trampled corn.

  “Where are they, Freddy?” she panted. “I’ve been shadowing that Robert, but I guess I lost him again.” She sat down heavily. “Whew! This is certainly trying work, being a detective! And hot! I’m going to pick a cool day next time I try it.” She looked back at the trail she had beaten down. “I’m afraid I’ve spoiled one or two stalks of Mr. Bean’s corn.”

  “One or two!” Freddy exclaimed. “My goodness, you’ve wrecked the whole field! Mr. Bean will be good and sore, and I don’t blame him.”

  “Oh pshaw, Freddy,” said the cow, “you know perfectly well that you can’t shadow anybody unless you hide from them, and an animal as big a
s I am can’t hide behind one or two little spears of grass the way a cat or a dog can. And besides, you said yourself that an animal couldn’t be a good defective without a lot of practice. What else could I do?”

  “Why, you’ll just have to give up being a detective, that’s all,” replied the pig. “At least that kind of detective. Because there’s lots to detective work besides shadowing. You have to hunt for clues, too, and then think about them until you can figure out what they mean.”

  Mrs. Wiggins sighed heavily. “Oh dear!” she said. “You know thinking isn’t my strong point, Freddy. I mean, I’ve got good brains, but they aren’t the kind that think easily. They’re the kind of brains that if you let ’em go their own way, they are as good as anybody’s, but if you try to make them do anything, like a puzzle, they just won’t work at all.”

  “Well,” said Freddy, “detective work is a good deal like a puzzle. But I do think you ought not to try to do this shadowing. Mr. Bean certainly won’t like having the corn spoiled this way, and he’s been pretty touchy lately anyway. Not that I blame him, now that all the animals have started to play detective all over the farm. I heard him tell Mrs. Bean that he was getting sick and tired of having about fifteen animals sneaking along behind him every time he leaves the house. And whenever he looks up from his work, he says, no matter where he is, there are eyes peering at him—dozens and dozens of eyes watching him from hiding-places.”

  “Ugh!” exclaimed the cow with a little shiver. “I know how that is! Nothing makes me more nervous than to have something watching me and not saying anything. I remember, when the rats used to live in our barn, that old Simon used to sit in his hole and just watch me without moving a whisker. Just did it to make me nervous. But excuse me, Freddy; I didn’t mean to mention the rats.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” said the pig. “I don’t mind. Though I must confess I don’t know just what to do about them. It’s the only case so far that has given me much trouble.”

  “Nasty creatures!” exclaimed the cow. “If I could just get up in that loft, I’d show ’em!”

  “I wish you could,” said Freddy. “You could just pick the train up on one horn and walk off with it. But the stairs are too narrow. No, I’ve got to think out something else. Oh, I’ll get an idea sooner or later.”

  “That’s it,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Ideas! You’ve got to have ’em to be a detective. And I can’t remember when I had my last one. But land sakes, there must be some way of getting the train. Couldn’t you tie a rope on it and pull it out?”

  “H’m,” said Freddy thoughtfully, “that’s an idea.”

  “An idea!” exclaimed the cow. “Gracious, Freddy, that isn’t an idea; it’s just something I thought of.”

  “It’s an idea all the same,” said the pig, “and a good one. But we’d have to do it quick, or they’d gnaw the rope in two. Come on, walk back to the barn with me and talk it over. I’d like to get at it tonight if I can.”

  So they strolled back, talking so earnestly that they never noticed that they were being rather clumsily shadowed by half a dozen animals of assorted sizes who dodged behind trees and darted across open places like Indians on the war-path. Mrs. Wiggins was so excited to find that she had really had an idea after all, and so flattered that Freddy was actually asking for her advice, that she hardly looked where she was going, and Alice remarked to Emma as they passed: “I’ve rarely seen Mrs. Wiggins so animated. She looks quite flushed.” “Humph!” replied Emma, who was a little upset that day because her Uncle Wesley had scolded her for eating minnows—“Humph! It always goes to her head when she gets a little attention!”

  Jinx was up in the loft where he spent much of his time now, though there was very little he could do there but watch the train make its periodic trips to the grain-box and back and listen to the insults and ribald songs that the rats shouted at him. He came down at once when Freddy called him, and went into conference with the pig and the cow. And when they finally separated to go to supper, they had decided on a plan.

  There was a door in the loft through which Mr. Bean took in the hay every summer. Over the door was a beam with a pulley at the end, and through the pulley ran a stout rope that ended in an iron hook. The other end of the rope came down into the loft, where it was coiled upon the floor. Late that evening, when Mr. Bean had finished the chores and had gone round to the barns and the hen-house and the pig-pen and turned out the lights and said good night to the animals in his gruff, kindly way and had then gone into the kitchen to eat a couple of apple dumplings and a piece of pie and a few doughnuts before going to bed, Freddy and Jinx went up into the loft. The train was still going back and forth, for although the rats felt that they had completely outwitted the cat, they were wise enough to realize that the luck might turn any day, and they intended to lay away as big a supply of grain as they could. So they worked in shifts, night and day.

  When they heard Freddy, who hadn’t visited the loft since the night when he had broken his tooth, they set up a derisive shout. “Yea! Here’s old Freddy, old curly-tail! How’s tricks, pig? Who you going to arrest tonight?” And then they began to sing:

  “Oh, we are the gay young rats

  Who laugh at the barnyard prigs;

  We can lick our weight in cats,

  And double our weight in pigs.

  “We live wherever we like,

  We do whatever we please;

  An enemy’s threat can strike

  No fear to such hearts as these.

  “When the pig detective squeals,

  When cats lash furious tails,

  Our laughter comes in peals,

  And our laughter comes in gales.

  “We’ve done as we always did,

  We do as we’ve always done,

  Though cats and pigs forbid,

  For we take orders from none.

  “So, cats and pigs and men,

  If you want to avoid a fuss,

  Stay safely in house and pen

  And don’t interfere with us.”

  “Kind of like themselves, don’t they?” remarked Jinx. Freddy said nothing, but went quickly to work. The loose end of the rope he threw out of the door to Mrs. Wiggins, who was waiting below, and then, after several trials, during which he nearly fell out himself, he got hold of the hook and drew it down into the loft.

  The rats, meanwhile, in order to show their contempt for him, were marching all round the floor inside the train, shouting out their song at the top of their lungs. They felt pretty sure that neither of their enemies would make another direct attack, and they were so taken up with the effort to outdo one another in thinking up insulting new verses for the song that they didn’t realize just what was going on. Suddenly Freddy said: “Let’s go!” The two animals made a pounce for the train, and before the rats knew what had happened, the big hook was firmly fastened in the engine window, and Freddy had shouted to Mrs. Wiggins, who, with the other end of the rope looped about one horn, simply walked away from the barn.

  There was a rattle and a great squeaking as the train was dragged across the floor. It reached the door, swung out, and was pulled up toward the pulley, the rats dropping from it like peas from a pod. Jinx had run downstairs, and as the rats picked themselves up and ran for shelter, he was among them, cuffing and slapping. Simon, unfortunately, had not been in the train, but his son Ezra was there, and Jinx grabbed him by the back of the neck and held on while the others made their escape. Then Mrs. Wiggins walked back toward the barn and the train came down to the ground at the end of the rope.

  The rats who had not been in the train, desperate at the loss of their means of livelihood, swarmed angrily out of their holes as their comrades were dragged squealing and struggling across the floor, and Freddy, feeling that his work there was completed, saw no reason for staying longer. In fact he fell down the last eight steps of the stairs, so eager was he to get away. But outside, by the captured train, he recovered himself and thanked Mrs. Wiggins generously
for her part in the victory.

  “Everett owes his train to you and no one else,” he said. “You don’t have to bother with learning to shadow people if you want to be a detective. Goodness, you’ve got ideas. That’s the important thing.”

  “Ideas!” exclaimed the cow in bewilderment. “Why, land of love, that wasn’t an idea! I never have ideas. I told you that.”

  “It certainly was an idea,” protested the pig.

  “Well, if that’s what you want to call it … it just looked like common sense to me.”

  Freddy didn’t say anything for a minute; then he turned his attention to the prisoner, who had given up struggling and was lying quiet under Jinx’s paw. “Good work, Jinx,” he said. “We got one of ’em, anyway. Better take him down and have the judge sentence him right away. Then we can lock him up in the jail.”

  “Aw, what do we want of a judge?” demanded the cat. “You leave him to me. I’ll see he don’t cause any more trouble.” And he glared ferociously at Ezra.

  But Freddy and Mrs. Wiggins insisted, and Jinx finally gave in. “Come on, then,” he said. “I shouldn’t have caught him if it hadn’t been for you, so I guess you ought to have the say-so.”

  The hen-house was dark when they reached it, but at the first tap on the door a head popped out of a window and a cross voice wanted to know what they meant by waking up honest chickens in the middle of the night. “Go along about your business,” scolded the voice, “or I’ll call my husband, and he’ll soon settle you.”

  Jinx grinned at the picture of Charles trying to drive away a cat and a pig and a cow, but he only said politely: “Excuse us, Henrietta, but this is a very important case that won’t wait. We’ve got a prisoner here, and we must see the judge.”

  But Henrietta was not appeased. “I’m not going to have my sleep disturbed by a lot of roistering cats and pigs, and you needn’t try any of your soft soap on me either, Jinx. I know you! And who’s that out there with you—Mrs. Wiggins? Take shame to yourself, Mrs. Wiggins, to be gallivanting about the country at all hours, like this, with a pack of disreputable scalawags and good-for-nothing disturbers of the peace—”