So Jinx went back to the barn, and Freddy put on his disguise again and set out on his adventure.
CHAPTER X
FREDDY BECOMES A BURGLAR
Freddy had got such a late start that it was nearly dark in the woods, though above him the tree-tops were bright green and gold in the light of the setting sun. Since he could not swim the creek in his men’s clothes, to get to the hermit’s house he had to cut through the woods to the bridge and then walk back on the other side. He walked on his hind legs, because after his mishap on the stairs he felt that he needed all the practice he could get if he was to make anybody think he was a man. But the trousers bothered his legs, and he stumbled over roots and tripped over vines and fell into holes until, long before he reached the creek, he was so bruised and hot and out of breath that he sat down on a log to rest. “My goodness,” he said to himself, “I’m glad I’m not a man! How they ever manage to do anything or get anywhere in all these clumsy hot clothes I can’t imagine! Lords of creation, they call themselves! Humph, I’d rather be a pig any time.”
Pretty soon he got up and went on again, and at last he reached the bridge. On the farther side of the bridge a narrow grassy road ran off to the left toward the hermit’s house. Freddy followed it. He began to feel rather nervous, but he was a brave pig and he had no thought of turning back.
By this time it was dark. The windows in the hermit’s house were lighted up, but they were so dirty that Freddy couldn’t see what was going on inside. He could hear music, however—someone was playing the harmonium and a man’s voice was singing. The song was “Sweet and Low,” but both singer and accompanist were going as fast as they could, and they were never together for more than one note. The singer would be ahead for a time, then the player would put on a burst of speed and pass him, only to get behind again when he stopped to take breath.
Freddy thought this was the funniest singing he had ever heard, and he went up to the front door and peeked through the keyhole, just as the song came to an end. The big man, who was sitting at the harmonium, was wiping sweat from his forehead. “You won that time, Looey,” he was saying, “but it’s the chords in that second part that slow me up.”
“I’ll race you on ‘Boola Boola,’” said Looey.
“No you won’t either,” said Red. “You always win on that because you leave out about six ‘Boolas,’ and I can’t keep track when I’m playing. Let’s take something where all the words aren’t alike. Let’s do ‘Annie Laurie.’ One, two, three—go!”
The noise was terrible. If you don’t believe it, try singing “Annie Laurie” as fast as you can. Freddy couldn’t stand it any longer, and he rapped on the door.
The musicians were going so fast that they couldn’t stop for about four bars. Then there was a moment’s silence, followed by the clump of heavy shoes, and the door was flung open. Freddy touched his cap and bowed politely.
“My gosh, what’s this?” said Red. “Come in, young feller. What can I do for you?”
Freddy stepped inside. The room was lit by three kerosene lamps, but the lamp chimneys were so dirty that they gave very little light, and he felt reasonably sure that if he kept his cap on, they wouldn’t know he was a pig. Nevertheless he was scared when they both came close to him and squatted down with their hands on their knees and stared at him.
At first they didn’t say anything. They stared at him for a minute, then stood up and stared at each other, then squatted down and stared at him again.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” said Red.
“So’ll I!” said Looey. “He’s a—what do you call those little men—a wharf, isn’t it?”
“A dwarf,” said Red. “You ought to know that, Looey.”
“Well, wharf or dwarf, what does it matter what we call him? The point is, what does he call himself? What’s your name, guy?”
Freddy pointed to his mouth and shook his head.
“He’s dumb,” said Looey. “What good’s a dumb dwarf? Let’s throw him out and go on with the music.”
Freddy had in his pocket the chart that he had prepared, but although from long practice in handling books and papers he had got so that he could use his forefeet almost as if they were hands, he was afraid that if he took it out and gave it to them they would see that he had hoofs instead of hands, and would realize that he was a pig.
Fortunately at this moment Red said: “Wait! I’ve got an idea!”
“I hope it’s better than the one you had last Thursday,” said Looey.
“This is a good one,” said Red. “Listen, this dwarf is little, and he’s dumb. That means he can get in places where we can’t get in, and that he can’t tell anybody about it afterwards. How about that back window in the Centerboro National Bank?”
“Gosh!” exclaimed Looey. “That is an idea!” He turned to Freddy. “Say, dwarf, would you like to make a lot of money?”
Freddy nodded enthusiastically.
“Fine! You come with us and do just what we tell you to, and we’ll give you fifty cents. Come on, Red, get your things on.” And almost before he knew what had happened, Freddy was walking back up the dark road with one of the robbers on each side of him.
He hadn’t had a chance to show them his chart, and he hadn’t the least idea what sort of adventure he was in for now. “Something pretty shady, I bet,” he said to himself. “But no use worrying. I’m in with them now, and if I can’t catch them after this, I’m a pretty poor detective.”
At the bridge they stopped, Red dove into the bushes, and pretty soon there was the sputter of an engine and he drove out into the road in a badly battered open car. Red hoisted Freddy in, and they started off in the direction of Centerboro. Nothing was said on the way. Both the robbers had on raincoats, black masks, and rubbers and carried pistols in their hands. Looey had hard work driving with the pistol in his hand, and once when he had to shift gears, it went off. It was pointed at the wind-shield when it went off, and Freddy was surprised not to see the glass fly to pieces, but Looey only laughed.
“We don’t carry loaded pistols when we’re at work,” he explained; “it’s too easy to have an accident.”
As they drove down Main Street, Freddy saw that there were lights in all the stores, just as the sheriff had told him there would be. They slowed up when they came to the bank, and he saw a watchman sitting on the front steps with a gun across his knees. But he paid no attention to them as they turned into the alley next to the bank.
Looey stopped the car in the alley, and they all got out. Red took a step-ladder out of the back seat and put it against the bank wall under a small window. “There you are,” he said. “They don’t bother to lock this window because it’s too small for anybody to get through. But you can get through, and when you’re inside, we’ll throw this sack in after you, and all you have to do is stuff all the money into the sack, throw it out, and then come out yourself. See?”
Freddy saw all right. He saw that he was going to be a robber in spite of himself, and there was nothing else to do. But he had reckoned without the step-ladder. Climbing the back stairs at the farm with Mr. Bean’s trousers on had been bad enough, but this was hopeless. He scrambled up three steps, then caught his left foot in his right trouser leg, stumbled, squealed, and Freddy and the ladder and Looey came down with a crash on the cobble-stones of the alley.
At once the night was full of noise. Windows went up, police whistles blew, men ran out into the streets and began shouting and firing off their guns. Looey scrambled to his feet, tossed Freddy into the car, and climbed in beside him as Red started up the engine. With a roar they dashed out of the alley and up Main Street at full speed. Half a dozen cars swung out into the street behind them as they dodged and twisted to avoid the men who tried to stop them. Red drove magnificently; he almost seemed to dodge the bullets that were fired at them, for none of them hit the car. In less than a minute they were thundering back up the road on which they had come into town, with the pursuit streaming out behind them. I
n a few minutes more they came to the bridge and crossed it; then Red put on the brakes so quickly that they were all nearly flung through the wind-shield, swung the car round, snapped off the lights, and drove into the bushes where the car had been hidden before.
One by one the pursuing cars flashed past their hiding-place. When the last one had gone by, the two robbers climbed slowly out of the car.
“You can go on back where you came from, dwarf,” said Looey in a disgusted voice.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Red. “Now we haven’t got any step-ladder, all on account of you. I was going to put up fresh curtains in the living-room tomorrow, but how I’m to do it without a step-ladder I don’t know.”
“Go on,” said Looey. “Beat it. We don’t want anything more to do with you. You haven’t got any more sense than a pig.”
Freddy grinned to himself in the dark; then he took the paper out of his pocket and handed it to Red.
“What’s this?” said the robber. He lit a match to look, then called in an excited voice to his companion: “Look, Looey, he’s got a map of that farmer’s place—the one that lives across the creek—and it shows where his money is hidden.”
They bent over the paper, lighting match after match to examine it. “Map of Mr. Bean’s barn, showing location of hidden treasure,” it said at the top, and under this Freddy had drawn a chart of the barn, but from one of the box stalls he had drawn a long arrow, at the end of which was written: “Under the floor of this stall is hidden a box containing ten thousand dollars in gold.”
The robbers were greatly excited. “This is what he came to give us,” said Looey. “Maybe he ain’t such a bad dwarf after all.” He turned to Freddy. “I’m sorry I said that about your being a pig. Are you sure the money is there?”
Freddy nodded emphatically.
“It’s worth trying,” said Red. “But, just the same, I ain’t taking any chances. We’ll take this fellow to the house and tie him up while we go over and see if the money’s there. If it is, all right; we’ll give him his share. But if it ain’t—” He glared at the detective. “Well, he’ll regret it, that’s all.”
This didn’t suit Freddy at all, but there was nothing else to be done. They took him back to the hermit’s house and tied him in a chair and then set out—on foot, this time, as there would be too many people looking for their automobile on the road.
Freddy was almost in despair. He had made no arrangements for the capture of the robbers. If they went to the barn, they would find nothing in the box stall but a dozen or more animal prisoners. If they came back empty-handed a second time this evening, what would happen to him? To think about it made his clothes feel even more tight and uncomfortable than they already were.
But he didn’t think about it long, for the robbers had not been gone more than a minute when there was a movement in a dark corner of the room, and a tiny voice said: “That you, Freddy?”
“Cousin Augustus!” exclaimed Freddy. “Gosh, I’m glad to hear your voice! Gnaw these ropes through, will you, like a good fellow? I’ve got to get to the farm before those fellows get there or I’ll miss an important capture.”
Cousin Augustus’s teeth were sharp; in a very few minutes Freddy was free and had thrown off his disguise. “Ha,” he exclaimed, “this feels like something! Now I’m equal to anything! But I wonder if I can get there before they do. Tell me, Gus, is there any bird round here that you could wake up and get to take a message to Jock?”
“Sure,” said the mouse, “there’s a wren lives under the eaves of the porch. I’ll just slip up and take a peek in his nest and see if he’ll go.”
Cousin Augustus wasted no time. In two minutes he was back, accompanied by a very sleepy and rather cross wren, who, however, when he realized that it was Freddy, the renowned detective, who wanted his help, was only too anxious to oblige.
“Fly over and wake up Jock or Robert,” said Freddy, “and tell them to clear all the prisoners out of the second box stall right away. Tell ’em they mustn’t waste a second. There are two robbers coming over there, and I want them to get into that stall without any difficulty. Tell Jock to get all the other animals up and have them hide in the barn and keep quiet until the men get in the stall. I’ll be there before there’s anything else to be done.”
The wren repeated the message to be sure he had it straight, and flew off, and then Freddy dashed down to the creek, dove in and swam across, and galloped off through the woods toward the farm. It was much easier going on four feet than it had been on two, and it wasn’t long before he reached the pasture. From there on he went more carefully, and by the time he reached the barn he was creeping along like a shadow.
Faint sounds came from the barn, and now and then a light flickered and was gone again. The robbers were there, then! Freddy slipped inside and into Hank’s stall. “Hello, Hank,” he whispered. “Everything going all right?”
“Far as I know,” said Hank. “Though what it all means is beyond me. Just a few minutes ago Jock and Robert and Mrs. Wiggins came in here and made all the prisoners go into one stall, and then they hid—they’re over there in the corner—and then two men sneaked in, and it sounds as if they were tearing up the floor. What’s it all about anyway?”
But there was no time to explain. Freddy tiptoed across the floor to the door of the stall. Sure enough, there were Red and Looey, working by the light of an electric torch, heaving at a plank in the floor. With great caution Freddy pushed the heavy door slowly shut and dropped the peg into the hasp.
The robbers heard nothing, and Freddy made no noise, for he had a reason for letting them go on with their work. He went over to the corner where his friends were hiding.
“I guess you can come out now,” he said. “We’ve got ’em safe and fast. This is a great night’s work! But what I’ve been through since I left here you wouldn’t believe!”
He started to tell them the tale of his adventures, but suddenly there was a great rattling at the door of the stall. The robbers had found out that they were locked in.
Jock laughed. “Let ’em just try to get out!” he said. “That door will hold an elephant. Anyway I sent down for Peter, in case anything should go wrong. He can handle ’em all right.”
Freddy started to go on with his story, when they heard a car drive into the yard, and a loud voice shouted: “Hey, farmer! Wake up!”
“I know that voice,” said Freddy. “It’s the city detective. Well, let’s see how many robbers he’s caught tonight!”
The animals went to the barn door. A light had sprung up in an upper window, and pretty soon Mr. Bean’s head, in its red nightcap with a white tassel, was poked out into the night.
“Stop raisin’ all that rumpus, or I’ll come down and take my horsewhip to ye!”
“I want to know if you’ve seen an open car go by here in the past hour,” shouted the detective.
“I got something better to do at night than to sit up and watch for open cars,” said Mr. Bean. “Now go ‘long about your business. I won’t have my animals woke up an’ disturbed this way.”
“I’m huntin’ for two robbers in an open car!” shouted Mr. Boner.
“Well, I ain’t two robbers in an open car,” replied the farmer. “I’m a self-respectin’ citizen in a night-shirt, an’ what’s more, I got a shot-gun in my hand, and if you ain’t gone in two minutes—”
Just then another car drove into the yard, and the sheriff got out. Mr. Bean’s manner changed as soon as he recognized the newcomer. “Oh, how d’e do, sheriff?” he said. “Who is this feller? Friend of yours?”
The sheriff explained. They were combing the countryside for the two robbers who had been frightened away while trying to rob the Centerboro bank, and they wondered if Mr. Bean had seen or heard anything of them.
“I been in bed for three hours,” said the farmer. “But there’s Freddy comin’ across from the barn. Looks like he might have somethin’ to show you. Now I’m goin’ back to bed. Look
around all you like, but for goodness’ sake be quiet about it. I want them animals to get their sleep.” And he shut down the window.
Meantime Freddy had come up to the sheriff. He raised a foreleg and waved it toward the barn.
“What is it, Freddy?” asked the sheriff. “You know something’, I bet.”
“Oh, that pig again!” exclaimed the disgusted detective. “Come along, sheriff, there ain’t anything here.”
“Not so fast,” replied the sheriff. “I’m goin’ to see.” And he followed Freddy to the barn and up to the door of the stall, which was still being shaken by the imprisoned robbers.
“H’m,” said the sheriff, lugging out his big pistol. “Looks like you’d caught something this time. Stand aside, animals.” And he pulled out the peg.
The door gave way suddenly, and out tumbled Looey and Red.
“Stick up your hands!” said Mr. Boner, stepping forward. And as the discomfited robbers backed up against the wall with their hands in the air, he turned to the sheriff. “There’s your prisoners, sheriff,” he said dramatically. “I knew they were here all the time. That’s why I stopped in here in the first place.”
“Yeah?” said Looey. “Is that so! Well, let me tell you something. It wasn’t you that caught us, city detective. You couldn’t catch a lame snail.”
“No back talk from you!” exclaimed Mr. Boner angrily. “If it wasn’t me that caught you, who was it?”
“It was a little feller in a checked cap, if you want to know,” said Looey. “And if all you detectives was as smart as him, you’d have caught us long ago.”
“Here’s your ‘little feller,’” said the sheriff, pushing Freddy forward.
“There you go with your pig again,” snorted the disgusted Boner. “I drove into this barnyard to look for ’em, didn’t I? And they’re here, ain’t they? Well, then, who caught ’em? And who’s going to believe that a pig could have done it?”
Freddy the Detective Page 9
