It was not a comfortable ride, for Uncle Ben had never succeeded in completely controlling the tremendous power of the engine, and sometimes, when too much power suddenly developed, the rickety old station wagon would practically gallop, and once or twice it left the ground entirely and sailed through the air for thirty or forty yards. This didn’t matter so much in the country, but it was troublesome in city driving.
So Uncle Ben didn’t much mind the loss of his space ship, for he was more interested in building a ship that could get to Mars than in actually getting there himself. And when the Martians offered to take him there in their saucer, he said no, thank you kindly. And began to build a saucer of his own.
A week or so after Mrs. Underdunk and the rats flew off into the sky, the Martians overtook them, somewhere northeast of Saturn. Lacking Uncle Ben’s know-how, they had steered in the wrong direction, and were nearly out of the solar system. Two-clicks, however, managed to lay the saucer alongside the rocket—which was something of a feat, when you consider that its speed was over a million miles a minute, while the slower rocket traveled at only a hundred thousand miles per hour. It was something of a feat, too, to transship the passengers without exploding them in the airlessness of space. But it was done, and the saucer brought them safely back to Twin Buttes, Montana. From there, Mrs. Underdunk returned to her home. As for the rats, nothing has been heard from them, and it is to be hoped that nothing will.
The Martians overtook them somewhere northeast of Saturn.
But you will remember that there was one rat, Eli, who did not go in the space ship. He was sent by Simon to fetch Mr. Garble to the Big Woods. But he did not return to the Big Woods with Mr. Garble. For he was hot, after his long run into Centerboro, and he stopped to get a chocolate malted before starting back. He was just too late. By the time he got back to the Big Woods the rocket had vanished into the sky. What became of him after that it is too early to know. No doubt, however, that he will be heard from again.
Freddy was pretty well satisfied with the way things had turned out. The rats had gone, and this time, he thought, for good. There had been no battle. At present, Freddy has taken up the study of the Martian language, and has already written one poem in that difficult tongue. Unfortunately, it is not possible to print it. Written Martian looks a good deal as if a duck had stepped into a pool of ink and then walked across the paper. And you could not, of course, understand it. Instead, we will end with a song which Freddy wrote while he was shut up in the crate in Mrs. Humphrey Underdunk’s cellar. Your true poet will make his verses, no matter how painful his life may be. In prison, or tied to the stake with the savages dancing about him in a yelling circle—still he will sing. At least that is what Freddy said. He admitted privately, however, that he couldn’t compose poetry when he had a stomach-ache.
This is what he wrote:
“A high-spirited person like me
Who has always been active and free
When confined in a crate
Does not shout: ‘This is great!’
And indulge in mirth, laughter, and glee.
“On the other hand, though I don’t care
To give myself up to despair,
To bellow and roar,
And to dance on the floor,
And by handfuls to tear out my hair,
“Yet it’s hard to be feeling courageous
When faced with a fate so outrageous;
To be placed on a spot
Which is bound to be hot,
And decidedly disadvantageous.
“Fate’s decided—and nothing can change her—
That I must be faced with the danger
Of being chopped up
An eaten for supper by probably some perfect stranger!
“I can’t help it. I’m shiverin’ and shakin’
For my heart it is almost a-breakin’
To think the last round-up
Will find me all ground up
As sausage, or turned into bacon.
“So no wonder my teeth start to chatter,
Yet if I’m to appear on a platter,
I’ll sure do my best
To smile at the guests;
And when carved, I will try not to spatter.”
Freddy called his song “From Crate to Plate.” So maybe he wasn’t so terribly scared after all.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1954 by Walter R. Brooks
ISBN: 978-1-4976-9233-6
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Freddy and the Men from Mars Page 14
