“Stand away from them dogs,” said Mr. Witherspoon, and his gun swung to cover them.
Perhaps he didn’t really intend to shoot them, but Billy didn’t wait to see. He brought his whip down sharply on Mr. Witherspoon’s wrist. The man yelled and dropped the gun, and Billy slipped quickly from the saddle and picked it up. “O.K., Dad,” he said. “Let’s go. I’ve got him covered.”
But Mr. Margarine handed the boy the leashes and took the gun from him. He unloaded it and leaned it against the porch. “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “You know who I am, I guess—Elihu Margarine. You send me the bill for whatever damage has been done. Here’s fifty dollars to go on.” And he held out a bill.
Mr. Witherspoon took it, looked at both sides of it, then folded it and tucked it in his pocket. He looked a little bewildered. After a minute he turned and without a word stumped off towards the barn.
Freddy and Jinx watched until the hunters had gone, and Mrs. Witherspoon had taken her potatoes back into the kitchen. Then they rode out and started home.
“That Margarine kid isn’t a coward, anyway,” said Bill.
“Oh, dear,” said Freddy. “I was just getting so I hated him, and then he has to go do something I admire him for. I wish people would be good all over or bad all over. Even that Cal Flint we had so much trouble with this summer—you couldn’t hate him as much as you wanted to, because there were some nice things about him. All the people we’ve had trouble with—Mr. Doty—even that old rat, Simon—they all had good things about ’em. And then you couldn’t be as mean to ’em as you wanted to be.”
“Oh, no?” said Jinx. “Well, I can. You just let me get a couple of claws in a good tender spot on that boy—” He broke off. “Hey, look!”
John was coming towards them along the top of a wall.
“How’d you get out here?” Freddy asked. “I thought you were in the house.”
“Let ’em corner me there? Not me,” said the fox. “When I jumped in the window, I just stood there close to the wall while the hounds jumped over me and began pulling the place to pieces. Then I jumped out while Mrs. W. was juggling those potatoes and sneaked off the side of the porch.”
“I never took my eyes off the porch, and I didn’t see you,” said Cy.
“You weren’t looking for me,” said John. “You were watching the window, or Mrs. Witherspoon. If you’d expected me to come out, you’d have seen me.”
“I guess that’s so,” said Freddy. “When I was a magician, I always had to get people’s attention on something that didn’t matter, so they wouldn’t notice what I was really up to. But John, you took an awful chance.”
“Pooh!” said the fox. “I want to get those hunters good and unpopular with the farmers around here, so that they’ll have to quit this fox-hunting stuff. Anything for a quiet life. And you bet they won’t ride across old Witherspoon’s land any more.”
“Maybe we could make a deal with the hounds,” said Freddy, “not to bother you.”
But John shook his head. “You can’t argue with foxhounds, not on the subject of foxes. They’ve got a single-track mind. Nice enough folks, I guess—kind to their families and so on. But they’ve been trained to chase foxes, and it’s the one thing they just can’t help doing. Just as Bill here can’t help butting folks if he sees ’em leaning over. Just as you, Freddy, can’t help—well—”
“Stuffing himself,” put in Cy.
“Come on, Jinx,” said Freddy, “I’ll race you home.”
Chapter 4
Arthur, the Magarine’s ex-cat—as he sometimes referred to himself—was well liked by most of the Bean animals. He had a pleasing personality, and was much in demand at parties because of his genteel appearance and behavior. He was invariably polite, particularly to the more elderly animals, and was often invited to their homes.
Among the homes where he was a frequent caller was the little house up by the pond, where Alice and Emma, the two white ducks, lived with their Uncle Wesley. Emma, the more timid of the sisters, was still a little afraid of Arthur, but they were both impressed by the elegance of his manners, and pompous Uncle Wesley was completely sold on the handsome visitor.
Jinx disapproved of this friendship. He was very fond of the sisters, though as for Uncle Wesley, he said he didn’t see why they gave him house room. “Just a bag of wind surrounded with feathers,” he said to Freddy, “floating around with the rest of the scum on the pond. But the girls think he’s wonderful. So when Arthur says he’s wonderful too, they begin to think Arthur’s pretty wonderful. Goes right around in a circle. Because Arthur sure thinks they are wonderful—or would be if he could have ’em for supper. A nice plump duck—mm m’m!” He smacked his lips.
“Oh, I don’t think Arthur’s up to anything like that,” said Freddy.
“Yeah? Well, maybe not,” said Jinx. “But—ever see the way he looks at ’em? Or at those rabbits he’s always being so thoughtful of?—taking ’em little bouquets of lettuce and such. It ain’t the way to look at a friend, Freddy; it’s the way Mr. Bean looks at the roast turkey when he tucks the napkin under his chin on Thanksgiving.”
The two friends were out riding together. They rode nearly every day, after Jinx had persuaded Bill that he would make a good cow pony. Bill had been easy to persuade, for a goat can gallop over broken ground where a horse would have to pick his way with great care, and can climb where a horse couldn’t possibly follow. And Jinx of course needed neither saddle nor stirrups; he could hook his claws into the burlap sacks strapped to Bill’s back, and nothing could shake him loose. It was quite a sight to see Jinx, waving his hat and yelling “Yippee!” as he rode Bill at a gallop along the top of a rough stone wall.
“Maybe we’d better speak to the ducks about Arthur,” Freddy said, and they turned their horse’s heads (or rather, one horse’s head and one goat’s head) towards the pond.
Alice and Emma were doing their powder-puff act, floating around on the water, and Uncle Wesley was sitting on the bank in the shade of a burdock leaf, grumbling as usual about the weather. There was nothing wrong with the weather, but it was always there and so saved him the trouble of thinking up something else to grumble about.
Freddy and Jinx dismounted, and then the horses and their riders all sat down on the bank as Alice and Emma swam towards them. Uncle Wesley went right on grumbling.
“Hi, girls,” said Jinx breezily. “Seen any good shows lately?”
The ducks tittered. They liked Jinx, because he always pretended that they were very bold and dashing characters, out every night at a party or a dance.
“Well, maybe I’m speaking out of turn,” said the cat, with a glance at the burdock leaf from under which came Uncle Wesley’s discontented quacks. “But who was that duck I saw you with down at the movies the other night?”
Most of the farm animals did go down to the movies in Centerboro occasionally. Mr. Muszkiski, who managed the theatre, made a special low price for them, as he felt that animals, particularly such famous ones as Mr. Bean’s animals, in the audience, were an added attraction. But the ducks never went.
“You didn’t see us, Jinx,” said Alice.
“Strange,” said the cat. “I could have sworn it was you. With a handsome young duck I’d never seen before. Dark-complected fellow, with a very high polish on his bill. I’d say he waxed it.”
Emma said: “We don’t approve of the cinema, Jinx.”
“You mean that old crab, Wesley, doesn’t,” said Jinx. “What do you pay any attention to him for? He never had any fun himself, and he doesn’t want anybody else to have any.”
The ducks were shaking their heads warningly and pointing their bills at the burdock plant. But Jinx pretended not to notice. “That old Wesley,” he said. “If he was my uncle, you know what I’d do—I’d sew his bill up some night when he was asleep. Sew it with good stout thread and—”
At this point Uncle Wesley pushed aside the burdock leaves and waddled pompously out. “Ha, there you ar
e, Wes, old mud-scoop,” said Jinx. “I thought I could get you out.”
The duck ignored him. “Alice!” he said. “Emma! Go into the house at once. I do not care to have you associating with these persons. I must say, I am grievously disappointed in you, grievously. I am astonished that you would sit quietly by and hear such insults heaped upon the head of your uncle. If I had heard anyone speak so of my uncle when I was a duckling—”
“You’d have torn him in pieces and used his backbone as a walking stick,” Jinx interrupted. “Instead, you’re going to quack him to death. Well—”
“Please, Jinx,” Alice put in. “Don’t tease Uncle Wesley any more.” A year or so ago she and her sister would have rushed indignantly to their uncle’s defence. But they no longer believed him to be the bold and fearless character he had always told them he was. They had looked up to him, admired him, taken his advice in everything—until one day they had seen him back down when he had tried to cheat a squirrel by selling him wormy nuts. After that, although they still believed that he was probably the wisest duck that ever lived, they no longer allowed him to tell them what to do every minute of the day.
“O.K.,” said Jinx. “I take it all back, Wes. As a matter of fact, I’ve always considered you one of the most brilliant—no, no, I will say the most brilliant mind I have ever known. Why, I was saying to Freddy only the other day—that Uncle Wesley, I was saying—why, he is so smart, I bet he could count right up to ten without stopping.”
Uncle Wesley could swallow any amount of flattery, and at the beginning of Jinx’s speech he had puffed out his chest and looked as important as possible. But at the end, he did have enough sense to see that the cat was making fun of him again, and he turned his back on him with an angry quack.
Jinx was going on, but Freddy said: “Oh, lay off, Jinx, will you? Look, Wesley, we came up to talk to you about something—”
“One moment,” Uncle Wesley interrupted pompously. “Alice! Emma! What is all this about your being at the movies with some strange duck?”
“They weren’t at the movies,” said Freddy. “Jinx was kidding you.”
Uncle Wesley pushed out his chest. “You will kindly not interfere in my domestic affairs, Freddy,” he said. “I do not need an interpreter in getting an explanation from my own nieces.”
“Very good, Wes,” said Jinx. “Very well put. But you shut your bill and let Freddy talk, or I’ll knock it so crooked you’ll have to be fed with a spoon.”
“All we came up to say,” said Freddy, “was that we’re not too sure of that cat, Arthur, and we want to warn you to go slow with him. I know he’s very pleasant spoken and entertaining, but—”
“That’s enough,” Uncle Wesley cut in coldly. “That’s quite enough. You are speaking of one who has shown us a great deal of kindness. We are proud to call him our friend.”
“Freddy is our friend too, Uncle,” said Emma. “Hadn’t we better listen to what he has to say?”
“You and your sister have led a very sheltered life, my dear,” said Wesley. “You have wisely accepted my guidance in worldly affairs. I think that possibly I am as good a judge as Freddy of how you should choose your friends.”
“Oh come on, Freddy,” said Bill. “This guy will be no loss if Arthur does eat him. Friendship—hah! You know how such friendships end, don’t you, Wes? Scrunch-scrunch, and a few feathers floating in the air.”
“I don’t care about Wesley,” said Freddy, “but Alice and Emma shouldn’t be put in danger just because he hasn’t any sense.”
“Don’t worry about us, Freddy,” Alice said. “You’ve warned us and we promise to be very careful. Uncle Wesley is so loyal to his friends! You mustn’t blame him.”
“Alice!” said Wesley sharply. “I’ll thank you not to apologize for me. I am not aware of needing any help in defending my opinions.”
Jinx came to the end of his patience. “Oh, gosh!” he said exasperatedly. And he jumped up and pounced upon the duck, flattening him to the earth. “You silly old lunkhead!” he said, holding him down with one paw. “I’m going to whack some sense into you.” And he rapped Uncle Wesley sharply on the head with his free paw. “I suppose if a rattlesnake smiled and took off his hat to you, you’d invite him to dinner. Well, you’re going to make me a little promise, Wes. I’m going to hold you down and cuff you until you promise to have nothing further to do with Arthur.”
“You silly old lunkhead!”
Uncle Wesley shut his eyes and pulled his head down as close to his body as he could. He wished he was a turtle, so he could pull it right inside himself. But as he wasn’t, he did the next best thing—he gave in. “I promise! I promise!” he quacked frantically.
He lay there for a minute after Jinx let him go, panting dramatically, and then he got up slowly. Alice and Emma waddled over to help him, but he pushed them aside and limped off towards his house. At the door he turned. “I warn you that I shall not keep that promise,” he called. “You obtained it by force, and such a promise is not binding.” And he went into the house.
“Oh, I give up!” said Jinx. “Well, if he wants to get eaten, let him climb right up on the platter and sit down. You girls be careful, that’s all.”
“We will, Jinx,” said Alice. “And I think we can persuade Uncle Wesley to be careful too. At least we can keep him from going on any more long walks with Arthur. And by the way, it was funny your mentioning rattlesnakes. Because just yesterday Arthur and Uncle Wesley saw a rattlesnake. Up in the woods.”
“There aren’t any rattlesnakes around here,” said Bill.
“Maybe a milk snake,” said Freddy. “They look like rattlers. There’s several of them living in the upper pasture. Very nice fellows, too.”
“I’m sure Uncle Wesley couldn’t be mistaken,” said Alice. “He’s very observant.”
“We’d better talk to Arthur,” said Freddy. He got up and swung into the saddle. “Come on, Jinx. So long, ducks. Now be careful, won’t you?”
They found Arthur taking a sun bath on the flagstone at the foot of the porch steps. He said yes, that it was undoubtedly a rattlesnake that he and Wesley had seen.
Freddy looked at him sharply. “I see,” he said. “And so if one of the ducks was to disappear, you would say that the rattler had undoubtedly caught it. Is that it?”
“Why, I think—” Arthur began. And then he stopped. “Oho!” he said. “I see what you’re getting at. You think that I made up the rattler. You think I am planning to eat those ducks myself, and then blame it on the snake.”
“Well,” Freddy said. “We don’t know anything about you, Arthur. You claim you left Margarine’s because you were too tenderhearted to catch mice and so they wouldn’t feed you. But how is it, then, that our friend John found a bowl of milk out by their back steps the other night?”
Arthur didn’t say anything. He was plainly very much embarrassed. He looked at Freddy and then he looked at Jinx, and then he cleared his throat several times and said: “H’m. Ha. Yes.”
“Yes what?” said Bill sharply.
“Yes, I’m going to tell you the truth,” Arthur said. “You see, I … No, no; I can’t tell it to all of you like this. I couldn’t tell it to anybody but another cat; it’s too mortifying. Will you step aside with me, Jinx?”
So Jinx did. They whispered together for a minute, and then Jinx gave a loud yell of laughter. Arthur walked quickly away to the barn, and Jinx returned to his friends, fizzing with more yells which he was trying to hold back. He held a paw over his mouth for a minute, and then he said: “They’ve been feeding him all right. The reason he quit was—Oh, golly, it’s a scream!” And he began fizzing again.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Cy. “If this is a private joke we’ll go and leave you alone with it.”
“No, no,” said Jinx. “You’ve got to hear it. The reason he quit was the name Mrs. Margarine called him. Sweetie Pie, she called him. Can you beat it? Sweetie Pie! For that big brute. She tied ribbons on him too. Pin
k ones. He couldn’t take it. He said even the horses giggled whenever he walked past the stable. Oh boy, wait till the rest of the animals hear this.”
“They mustn’t hear it,” said Freddy firmly. “I don’t think we’d even better tell the mice, although it would probably stop them worrying about being eaten up. But if he’s been going around with that name tagged to him, he’s had enough kidding, and you know what they’ll do if they hear it. I’d better go talk to him. I want to know more about the snake. I won’t let him know you told us about his being ‘Sweetie Pie.’ I’ll just say you’re satisfied about him, and we accept your word. We don’t want him going around feeling embarrassed every time he sees one of us.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said the cat. “But I hate to pass up a good joke.”
“No joke is good if it hurts somebody’s feelings,” said Cy.
“My sakes, listen to the deacon!” said Bill. But he agreed with him just the same.
Chapter 5
Nothing much happened during the next few days, but all the animals had the feeling that something was going to happen—something big and unpleasant, probably. It was like the feeling you get just before a thunderstorm. “Everything is just too quiet,” Freddy said. “We’re all looking over our shoulders half the time, and getting ready to duck.”
“There’s a perfectly good reason for that,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Only we don’t like to face it. We’re all wondering if there really is a rattlesnake up by the woods. But if there is one, we’d almost rather not know it. We’re like sick people who are afraid to call the doctor because he’ll tell ’em what’s wrong. I’ll wager you haven’t taken any steps yet to find out if what Arthur saw was a rattler or not.”
Freddy Rides Again Page 3
