Freddy the Cowboy (13 page)

“I don't want your money either,” said Freddy. “But you ain't going to get another trial free.” He started to spit out of the side of his mouth to make himself more like Snake Peters than ever, but decided against it on account of the moustache. “Lemme see, those are nice guns you got there. You stay on this horse thirty seconds and you get fifty dollars, but if he throws you, I get the guns. Is it a deal?”

“If I can't stay on that camel I'll shoot myself with those guns,” said Mr. Flint. “Sure it's a deal. Keep the time, Jasper.” A second later he was astride Cy.

When Mr. Flint got into the saddle, Cy woke up. He woke up so violently that it was as if he had suddenly exploded. He bucked and whirled, reared up and twisted and put his head down and almost stood on his forelegs. Mr. Flint's arms and legs flew in all directions and his head snapped back and forth until it looked as if it would fly off. He lasted seven seconds. Then he catapulted through the air and smacked flat on his face on the ground, and Cy picked him up in his teeth by the seat of his pants and tossed him over the fence.

The crowd in the bleachers yelled and waved and were so excited that several of them fell between the benches and had to be dragged out from below. Mr. Flint sat up slowly, shook his head several times, then got to his feet.

Freddy came up to him. “I'll take those guns, Flint,” he said.

Mr. Flint glared at him viciously. He pulled out the guns, and for a minute Freddy thought that he was a gone pig. But Jasper had hold of Mr. Flint's arm. “Easy, boss,” he said. “Don't let the crowd get sore on you.” And he took the guns from him. Then he turned to the bleachers. “Mr. Flint wants me to say,” he called, “that he's paying up because he lost the bout, according to the terms as they was arranged. But he also wants me to say that what you have just seen here is not a straightforward performance. This horse is not the usual wild horse used in such trials. He's a trick horse, trained to throw you off your guard and then cut loose on you. He wants me to say—”

The crowd began to jeer. “Yah! He lost, didn't he? Why don't he shut up?”

Freddy had got into the saddle, and he now rode up towards the bleachers. So far everything had gone as he had hoped. He had disarmed Mr. Flint; now, in front of all the people, dudes from the ranch and neighbors from Centerboro and the surrounding farms, he planned to stand up and tell his story. He was going to take off his disguise and then, holding the guns on Flint to keep him from interfering, he was going to tell of Mr. Flint's cruelty to Cy, of his plan to rob the Animal Bank, and of his threat to shoot him, Freddy, on sight. For he believed that to get his story before the public was the only way to protect himself from being killed. The anger of the whole community, Freddy thought, turned against Mr. Flint, would make him behave himself.

Now this was not a bad plan. If nobody knew about his threat, Mr. Flint could shoot Freddy and pretend that it was an accident. But if everybody knew about it, he couldn't make the accident story stick. Everybody would be pretty mad at Mr. Flint, for Freddy was a popular pig, not only among the animals, but among the Centerboro people.

Unfortunately, just as Jasper turned to hand the guns to Freddy, a little gust of wind came along. It swirled around Freddy, lifted the brim of his hat, twisted his moustache, lifted the long hair of the wig that hung over his shoulders. Mr. Flint was looking at him, and suddenly he recognized him. He gave a yell and grabbed the guns back from Jasper. “The pig!” he shouted. “Draw, pig, defend yourself!”

This time Freddy just about gave up hope. The guns were within a foot of his stomach, and he could feel his stomach trying to sneak around and hide behind his backbone. Jasper said: “Hey! Hey, boss; don't do it!” But Freddy could see that nothing was going to stop Mr. Flint this time. Bannister had come through the gate and was trying to get round behind Mr. Flint, but Freddy knew that he would be too late.

And then Howard climbed up out of Freddy's pocket and did one of the bravest deeds ever done by any mouse in the history of the world. He jumped to one of the pistol barrels, ran up the arm to the shoulder, and dove right down the open collar of Mr. Flint's shirt.

Mr. Flint gave a yell and threw up his arms, and then as Howard galloped around inside his shirt, tickling his ribs, he danced and squirmed and slapped himself, and finally lay down and rolled on the ground. The people on the bleachers thought he had gone crazy, of course, and Jasper kept dancing around him and saying: “Hey, boss! For goodness' sake! What's got into you? Hey, quit it; they're all looking at you!” He was plainly ashamed of Mr. Flint's behavior.

After a minute Mr. Flint stopped and sat up, for Howard had managed to sneak out again down one sleeve, and had run through the grass to where Bannister was standing and climbed up into his pocket. Mr. Flint looked around in a dazed way, then suddenly leaped to his feet, snatched up the guns he had dropped, and ran for his horse. “Jasper!” he shouted. “You fool, you let that pig get away. Come on!” For Freddy, on his dyed pony, was galloping off across the fields towards the woods.

The first few minutes of the chase were the worst for Freddy, because it was in those minutes that Mr. Flint almost caught up. His tall bay horse was faster than Cy, but Cy was a better jumper and quicker at dodging obstructions. Freddy gave Cy his head, and the pony sailed over walls and ditches, and the pig stuck to his back as if he was glued on, although at the third wall his hat had flown off and he had nearly gone after it, trying to catch it. But he had certainly learned to ride. At each jump Mr. Flint lost ground, gaining it again on the open stretches. But pretty soon they got into rougher going on the edge of the woods—a pasture studded with big boulders and half overgrown with spiny thorn brush—and here Mr. Flint began to fall farther and farther behind. He had fired two or three times, but the bullets had gone wide, and at last he gave up and waited for Jasper to overtake him. They sat staring for a few minutes after the escaping pig, then turned back towards the ranch.

Chapter 12

None of Freddy's friends in the bleachers had recognized him, so naturally the crowd thought this was all part of the show. It didn't make much sense, but then, lots of the movies they went to in Centerboro didn't make much sense either, so they just thought maybe they had missed something, and it would be explained later. But Jasper and Mr. Flint came back and at once started doing stunts with a bull whip, and a rope, and pretty soon the crowd forgot, although some of them wondered why, if Snake Peters was part of the show, he didn't come back.

Bannister didn't stay any longer. He got in his car and drove Howard back to the Bean farm. Mr. and Mrs. Bean had hitched Hank up to the buggy and gone to visit Mrs. Bean's aunt for a few days, but all the other animals were there, and in a meeting in the cow barn Bannister told them what had happened. When he spoke of Howard's heroic attack on Mr. Flint, they cheered until the windows rattled, and even Charles admitted that, except for himself, he knew very few animals who would have dared to perform such a brave deed.

Mrs. Wiggins said that one thing seemed plain: they would have to get rid of Mr. Flint. “If it was just the bank,” she said, “I guess we could manage. We could move all our valuables to some other place until his season at the ranch is over and he goes away. But he's out to get Freddy, and sooner or later he'll succeed unless something is done. I wish Freddy was here; he's always so full of ideas.”

“I guess his idea today wasn't so hot,” said Jinx. “A couple more like that and there'll be a pig pen to rent.”

“I gathered,” said Bannister, “that it was the only idea he had at the time, and he thought it better to use a poor one than none at all.”

During the discussion several of the rabbits had got up and gone quietly out, and now No. 23 came back with a folded paper which he laid down in front of Howard.

“What's this?” said the mouse. “For me?”

“Sure; open it, open it,” said the rabbit.

“Let me open it for you,” said Bannister. So Howard got up on the butler's shoulder, and Bannister unfolded the paper. It was a piece of a paper bag, and the writing on it had evidently been done with a very hard pencil by a very poor writer. “My word,” said Bannister, “can you read this?”

Like most field mice Howard had had no schooling and could neither read nor write, but he was ashamed to say so at a meeting of such highly educated animals, so he said: “Please read it out loud.”

“The writing is so faint,” said Bannister, “that I think it is meant to be read in a whisper. But if you say so—” And he read:

“Honorable Howard,

Respected Sir:

Whereas, in the endeavor to save the life of our mutual friend and comrade, Freddy, you boldly and without hesitation risked your own life by leaping into the very lion's jaws (i. e., Mr. Flint's shirt);

And whereas, you thus exhibited a gallantry of conduct far in excess of the line of duty; Be it therefore resolved that you be invited to join this organization, with the rank of Associate Horrible, and with all the rights and privileges thereto appertaining.

Signed, for the Horrible Ten

Twenty-three, Head Horrible.”

There was renewed cheering and calls for a speech.

“Oh dear,” said Howard, “I can't make a speech.”

“Have to,” said Bannister. “There's nothing to it, really. They don't expect an oration. Just say anything that comes into your head.”

“The only thing that comes into my head is, I wish they'd shut up.”

“Can't say that, naturally,” said Bannister. “Oh, just use one of the stock openings. You know! ‘Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking,' and so on. Or: ‘You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage.' Well, come on, you've got to say something.”

So Howard said: “Ladies and gents—I mean, animals and birds. I want to thank the Horribles for their kind invitation. I mean—well, I'll try to be a good member and be as horrible as possible. I guess Mr. Flint thought I was horrible when I was running around over his ribs.” He hesitated a minute and then said: “Well, I guess that's all,” and crept down into Bannister's pocket.

Bannister had never heard of the Horrible Ten, and so No. 23 said he would show him who they were. All the rabbits went out and got their knives and tied down their ears, and then Mrs. Wiggins turned out the electric light so that the moonlight that came through the windows just showed up things dimly. And then the Horribles came in. They hopped and stamped in a circle around Bannister, and they sang:

“Oh, here we are back again,

The horrible, Horrible Ten,

More horrible than ever,

It's our conscientious endeavor

To catch a butler once a week,

To tie him up and make him squeak,

We make him squeak and we make him squeal

As we chop him up for our evening meal.

And since Bannister's a butler, he

Had better beware of our cutlery,

For it's getting late, and this time of night

We always have a good app—”

The Horribles stopped suddenly, for from somewhere overhead a soft dark object had fallen with a plop to the floor. And then a harsh voice from a beam above them said: “Turn on the light! Quit this foolishness and look what I've brought you. Found it up in that pasture by Flint's ranch.”

The light clicked on, and they all looked up to see Old Whibley perched on the beam. His feathers were ruffled and although owls always look worried, he looked much worrieder than usual.

“Look at it! Look at it!” he said crossly. “Don't stand there gaping like a lot of astonished bullfrogs!”

“Why, it's Freddy's hat!” said Robert.

“Why, it's Freddy's hat!”