Freddy and the Perilous Adventure (18 page)

“Aw, you're just trying to mix us up,” said Jack.

“Of course I am. But you'll admit I don't have to try very hard.” Suddenly he drew a dollar out of his pocket. “Do you like candy?”

They stared at him with their mouths open.

“Now, look,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “If you'll promise to let Jimmy and his friends alone until they are ready to open their show, I'll give you this dollar. Is it a deal?”

“Sure, sure,” said the boys, and began climbing over the fence. “But we're going to have our lion hunt just the same,” said Jack.

“Oh, I don't care about your lion hunt,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Only I hope you'll be careful not to hurt any of the animals. Remember, they can't protect themselves—”

“Oh, sure, we won't hurt 'em; we'll just chase 'em a little,” said Jack, and Mr. Boomschmidt nodded and handed over the dollar.

The boys ran off, oinking merrily, and Mr. Boomschmidt turned to Jimmy. “We have to go now, but we'll be back at two. And don't worry about your pets. We'll see they don't get hurt.”

At two o'clock when the Jimmy Wiggs Circus, Greatest Show on Earth, opened its doors, Mr. Boomschmidt and Freddy were among the first to pay the admission of six bottle caps and enter the grounds. The attendance was fairly large for that kind of a show, for at least ten other persons, most of them under twelve years of age, also crowded into the back yard. And Jimmy, as proprietor, guided them from cage to cage, explaining the habits and enlarging on the ferocity of their various occupants.

“We have here,” he said, stopping before the crate in which Pete, his fox terrier, was confined, “a genuine African Wampus, the only one in captivity. He has a head like an alligator and claws and a mane like a lion, and he lives exclusively on uncles and aunts. If any of you children have an uncle or aunt present, you'll have to be pretty careful, for when he sees one, he gobbles 'em up, shoes and all.

“Now in this cage,” he continued, passing on to the first chicken coop, “we have—”

“Let's go on to the next cage,” interrupted Freddy, pointing to a crate containing a kitten.

Jimmy had had his hand on the door of the chicken coop, which was closed, and he looked a little puzzled for a minute. Then he said: “All right,” and was about to go over to the kitten, when there was a scrabbling on the other side of the fence and a shout: “Here come the lion hunters!” And Jack and three of his gang climbed over into the back yard. One of them had a BB gun.

Jimmy confronted them. “I wish you'd go away, Jack. Can't you let us—”

But Jack pushed him contemptuously aside. “So this is your old menagerie, is it? This is a hot show, this is! Well, where's your lions?” He walked over to Pete's crate. Pete was lying down, pretending to be asleep. Evidently he had some previous acquaintance with Jack.

“Here's a lion, boys,” Jack shouted. “Get your guns ready, when I turn him loose—”

Mr. Boomschmidt touched Jack on the arm. “There's a bigger lion in the chicken coop,” he said. “If you want a good lion skin to hang on the walls of your hunting lodge, he's your animal.”

Jack looked at him suspiciously. Then he turned to Jimmy. “What you got in here?”

“Aw, Jack,” pleaded Jimmy, “that's Mary's kitten in there. Please don't hunt her.”

“A lion, my men!” shouted Jack, pushing Jimmy back. “Ready?” He flung open the door of the chicken coop. And with a roar, Leo bounded out into the middle of the back yard.

With loud yelps of fear the lion hunters made for the fence. They reached the top in one bound—and stayed there. For two enormous grey shapes rose on the other side, and the long trunks of the elephants waved above their heads. Jack began to whimper.

Mr. Boomschmidt turned to the spectators, who had crowded back against the house. “Don't be frightened,” he said. “We just want to give these boys a lesson in how to treat animals. You're all perfectly safe.

“Now my brave lion hunters,” he said, “get down and get in that chicken coop. Get
down
!” he said sharply. “Or shall I have Leo, here, help you?”

So they got slowly down. They had to pass Leo to get into the coop, and the lion glared at each of them, licking his chops in an anticipatory way that made them tremble. And when Jack slunk past, Leo crouched and lashed his tail.

“Come, come, Leo,” murmured Mr. Boomschmidt, “don't overdo it. We want to scare 'em, but we don't want to scare 'em to death!”

When they were in the coop Mr. Boomschmidt gave a whistle, and through the gate came a procession of animals. Nearly every animal from the circus was there—tigers, elephants, a rhino named Jerry, three hyenas, two leopards, six alligators, and last, the boa constrictor. They filed past the chicken coop, and as each animal came opposite the doorway he put his head in and stared hard at the lion hunters. None of the animals growled or snapped: they just stared hard.

Then when they had all had a good look, they lined up on one side of the yard, and Mr. Boomschmidt ordered the boys out. “Your part of the show is over,” he said. “And you can go if you want to. You know what it is like now to be helpless. I hope you'll remember it. And of course,” he added, “we will all be back this way again next summer.”

“Oh, golly, I guess we'll remember all right,” said Jack. “We—I guess we didn't real—

“That's all I want to know,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “And now, if anybody wants a ride on the elephant, step right up. Free rides for everybody.”

Chapter 17

It was late in the afternoon when Freddy and the mice and the ducks finally got home. The Beans had gone out for a drive, so all the farm animals gathered in the cow barn, and Freddy told them about their adventures. Uncle Wesley was a good deal of bother, because he kept interrupting all the time to tell what
he
had thought or what
he
had done. For since his parachute jump, there had been no holding him. He seemed to believe firmly that it had been his idea to jump, and that Alice and Emma had jumped only because they had been shamed into it by his courageous example.

At last, after about the twentieth interruption, Freddy turned on him. “Look here, Uncle Wesley,” he said. “If you're coming back to live on this farm, the time has come for you to hear some straight talk. We never used to call your bluffs, because Alice and Emma believed in you, and we didn't want to hurt them. But they know now that you aren't the hero you pretend to be.”

“Well, well, well,” said Uncle Wesley, swelling up angrily. “That sort of talk comes well from you, I must say.
You
didn't jump out of any balloon.”

“No, but I wasn't pushed out by mice, either,” said Freddy.

“Nonsense! Pushed out by mice indeed! I never heard—”

“All right,” said Freddy. “We'll settle it right now. If you'll go up and jump out of the upper barn door, I won't say another word.”

“I guess that's all you can do now, Wesley,” said Mrs. Wiggins.

“Balderdash!” exclaimed the duck. “I refuse to be a party to any such ridiculous performance. Come, Alice—Emma! If these animals can't show a proper respect for my dignity and my standing in the community, I shall have to refuse to allow you to have anything to do with them. Come, we will go.”

But Alice and Emma didn't move.

“Maybe you'd better jump, Uncle Wesley,” said Emma after a moment,” Uncle Wesley isn't afraid,” she said to Mrs. Wiggins, “He just feels that he doesn't want to be forced to do something that is beneath his dignity.”

“Oh, my land!” said Mrs. Wiggins impatiently. “What does he think he is—a judge of the Supreme Court or something? I don't say anything against dignity, though land knows I never could manage to have much, but when somebody calls you a coward, is it undignified to prove he's wrong?”

Alice looked at Emma, and the two sisters turned and waddled up the stairs and disappeared in the loft above. A minute later the other animals, looking out through the doorway, saw them come sailing gracefully down through the air. Alice even turned a somersault before they landed in the barnyard. Then they came back into the barn.

There was a good deal of applause, but Uncle Wesley merely glared.

“The most undignified performance I ever hope to see,” he said cuttingly. “I am really at a loss to account for the change in you two since I have been away. Goodness knows I spared no pains in your upbringing, and I felt that I could always count on you to be modest and ladylike in your behavior. But this—this tomboyish exhibition, and at your years—”

“Stop!” said Alice suddenly.

Uncle Wesley's bill dropped open and he stared at her in amazement. “You—you interrupted me!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, I did,” replied Alice. “And I might as well tell you, Uncle Wesley, that we have indeed changed since you've been away. As long as we believed that you were as gallant and fearless as you said you were, we were willing to do as you said. But we have found you out. Perhaps, because you are our uncle, we might still be willing to be guided by you in all our actions. But I think now we have our own dignity to consider. And so we have decided—Emma and I—that while we will be glad to have you come back and live with us again, in the future
you
will do as
we
say.”

“To think,” began Uncle Wesley, “that my own flesh and blood—”

“And,” continued Alice, calmly interrupting him again, “we don't intend to argue about it. As our friend Jinx says—somewhat vulgarly, I am afraid, but it expresses our meaning—you'll take it and like it! Am I right, sister?”

“Oh, dear,” said Emma nervously, “it seems terrible, but …” She hesitated, then drew herself up. “You said it, sister!” she exclaimed.

For Uncle Wesley this was the last blow. His head drooped, and he walked to the doorway and stood sadly looking out. Then suddenly he gave a start. “Dear me!” he said. “Why, goodness gracious!” He turned and looked oddly at his nieces. “Why, this is—this is …”

“Good grief, Wesley, what
is
it?” demanded Mrs. Wiggins.

“The duck stared at her with a sort of wondering look on his face. “I—I don't quite know how to tell you,” he said. “It just came over me—why, I'm not a hero at all! And I don't care! Now that's a strange thing. All these years—” He broke off. “I have always admired heroism very much,” he went on after a moment. “I didn't know I wasn't a hero myself. All those things I told you about my bravery—well, I thought they were true, or at least I thought they could be true. But now I see they couldn't. Dear me, I must be a coward! And what does it matter? Why, it relieves me of a tremendous strain, the strain of always having to act up to something I wasn't. I'm scared even of Alice and Emma—I've always been scared of them: that's why I bossed them around—so they wouldn't know it. But I'm getting too old for that. It's too much work.” He turned to his nieces. “My dears,” he said, “I would like to come back and live with you, if you want me. And I'll do as you say. Why, I think maybe I'll have a pretty good time!”