Freddy the Cowboy (10 page)

“Good enough to beat a pig,” said Mr. Flint. “Come along folks,” he said, turning to the group about the fire; “over to the corral fence.”

Chapter 9

The terms of the shooting match were simple. Four tin cans were put up on posts of the corral. Then when the horses were driven off out of the way into the smaller corral by the house, Mr. Flint would ride down past at a distance of thirty yards and try to shoot the cans off the posts. He was allowed six shots, and would ride at a canter. It was a pretty severe test of marksmanship.

It was a cool clear night. The moon was high now, and almost bright enough to read by. Certainly it was bright enough to shoot by. Mr. Flint rode to the end of the corral and then with his gun swinging in his hand cantered down once past the posts to get the distance. Then he went back and rode down again, and this time he shot. He fired twice at the first can before he knocked it off the post, but the second and third ones he hit at the first try. With two cartridges left in his gun he fired more carefully at the fourth can and missed; he fired quickly again and knocked it off the post.

The dudes applauded, and Mr. Flint pulled up beside Freddy. “Let's see you tie that, pig.”

“I ain't aimin' to tie it, pardner,” said Freddy. “That was right good plain shooting, but what I'm aimin' to show you is something real fancy.” He started to pick up four more cans from the pile that had been brought out.

“Jasper'll put up the cans for you,” said Mr. Flint.

“I'll put 'em up myself,” said Freddy. “I've heard of cans bein' fastened down so that they wouldn't fall off if you hit 'em with a cannon.” He went over and placed the cans on the posts. And of course on each post he put a mouse. The mice had been busy, each chewing a wad of gum, and now their job was to stick one end of a piece of string to each can, throw the loose end down, run to the ground, and be ready to pull.

“Now, folks,” he said, “this here ain't going to be a real exhibition, because I'm a little out of trainin'. Of course Flint here has done right well for a feller that ain't never practised shoot-in' off anything but his mouth. I wouldn't say nothing about it, except he's seen fit to call me pigs and such-like. And I still wouldn't say anything about it if I hadn't seen him beating a horse—this horse, folks, which I had to buy it off him to keep him from killing it.”

Mr. Flint reined in closer to Freddy. “You keep your mouth shut, you little tramp,” he said angrily, “or I'll—Ouch!” he yelled suddenly. For he had forgotten about Cy, who had swung round and nipped him sharply in the leg.

Freddy rode up to the end of the corral. “OK, Cy,” he said, and the pony gathered his legs under him and sprang. They came down past the posts at a dead run. As they passed the first post, Freddy didn't shoot, and Jasper said with a chuckle to Mr. Flint, “The dope ain't even got his gun out.”

But opposite the second post Freddy snatched his gun from the holster, and as fast as he could pull the trigger fired four shots—bang, bang, bang, bang!—and at each bang a can jumped or toppled from a post. Indeed one of them jumped before the bang came—probably because Cousin Augustus was so excited—but nobody noticed.

The dudes had applauded Mr. Flint, but now they shouted and cheered and crowded around Freddy.

“Shucks,” said Freddy, “'twasn't anything. I just want to show this Mr. Flint why it ain't healthy for him to talk about fighting me. And also and furthermore, I want to help him to keep out of the way of temptation.” He rode up closer to Mr. Flint. “Temptation is a terrible bad thing to get into, Mr. Flint,” he said. “Like it might be the temptation to rob a bank. You think how nice it would be to have all that money without working for it—just pulling up a trap door and climbing down and scooping it up. But suppose a bullet—like it might be from this gun of mine—comes climbing down after you, hey? Comes right down and pokes its cold nose into your ribs! Hey? You better think it over carefully, Mr. Flint.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” said Mr. Flint sullenly.

“Good,” said Freddy. “Then there's no harm done. So good evening, folks. Just hand me my guitar, Jasper.” He waved his hand and then rode off, stopping opposite the last post of the corral fence where he pretended to tune his guitar while the mice climbed up Cy's foreleg and into his pockets. Then he went on, singing:

“Yippy-i-dee! Yippy-i-day!

Cowboy Bean is coming this way.

He's sharp as a needle and bright as a dollar,

Wears a No. 3 shoe and a 16 collar.

He's full of vim and he's full of vigor,

Fast on the draw and quick on the trigger.

So all you bandits and thieves take warning,

Or you'll be in a hospital bed by morning,

And the doc'll give you kind of a shake,

And he'll hear the rattle that the bullets make,

And he'll shake his head and he'll say: ‘O my!

I can't cure this and I ain't going to try, Yippy-i-day! Yippy-i-dy!

For Two-Gun Freddy has plugged this guy.'”

Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang!

The other animals were well pleased that Freddy had managed to scare off Mr. Flint. The pig had proved himself such a superb marksman that the ranch owner would hardly dare to try holding up the bank, even with the help of Jasper and Slim. However, Freddy was taking no chances, and the next day when he and his friends were sitting around under the big tree by the back porch, thinking about what they could do to keep an eye on Mr. Flint, Hank said: “What you need is somebody to patrol around the bank nights. Those guards you've got down there, squirrels and like that, they don't stay awake after sundown. Most nights you can hear 'em snorin' half a mile down the road. Anybody could walk right in and go down in the vaults and they wouldn't even turn over on the other side. So I was just wondering—I dunno—but how about getting my friend Sidney to keep an eye on things nights?”

Sidney was a small brown bat who used to come in and flit around and talk to Hank nights when the rheumatism in his off hind leg kept him awake.

“He lives in my barn now,” Hank added.

“If you can call it living,” said Jinx contemptuously. “Hanging upside down with his eyes shut all day long. Lives on a diet of mosquitoes, so they tell me. And that isn't living either.”

“Well, I dunno,” said Hank. “I wouldn't care to live on mosquitoes myself. Don't seem as if there's much nourishment in 'em. I guess usually it's t'other way round—what mosquitoes there are here usually live on me. But Sidney keeps 'em cleared out. And why are you so mad because he likes to eat 'em, Jinx?”

“I haven't any use for bats,” Jinx said. “Why can't they make up their minds to be either animals or birds—not just stay in between.”

“That isn't why you don't like them, though,” said Freddy.

“Oh, no? You tell me then.”

“Sure, I will. You don't like 'em because they're the one little animal a cat can't catch. They'll outsmart a cat every time.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Jinx. “Well, I can make you eat those words, pig, and you'll find them even less nourishing than mosquitoes. I'll go bring Sidney out here to you.”

He got up and walked down to the barn. As soon as he had disappeared inside the others got up quietly and sneaked over to where they could see, either through the door or through cracks in the wall, what went on.

Sidney was hanging upside down from one of the beams that supported the floor of the loft. Jinx saw that by standing on a crosspiece that was nailed as a brace between two upright beams against the wall, he could reach up and scoop the bat right down with his paw. Also there was an old stepladder leaning against the wall, and from its top he could jump to the crosspiece.

He went up noiselessly and jumped across. But bats are sensitive to the slightest vibration. Sidney didn't open his eyes, for bats don't depend much on their eyes. He could sense a warm body reaching up towards him, and then when Jinx had stretched up from the crosspiece he dropped, unfolding his wings. Jinx had been hanging on and reaching out with one forepaw; now he let go and snatched with two. But Sidney zigzagged in the crazy way that bats do when they fly, and Jinx missed, lost his balance, and fell splash! into Hank's watering trough. Sidney flew back to the same place and hung himself up and went to sleep again.

The animals came piling into the barn. They tried not to laugh, because they knew Jinx would be pretty sore. And he was, all right. “See what I mean?” he yelled as he climbed out of the trough and shook himself. “See what I mean about bats? Mean, sneaky things! He could dodge me, couldn't he? Didn't have to push me into the trough.”

Sidney opened one eye. “Did
not
push him!” he said in the little high squeaky bat's voice. “Why can't you let me alone?” He dropped from the beam and flitted out of the door.

“Now you've done it,” said Hank. “He may not come back for a week.”

“And good riddance,” said Jinx. He was pretty mad. Of course he was really mad at himself because first Howard and then Sidney had got away when he'd tried to catch them. But of course nobody ever admits that he's mad at himself, so Jinx had to just be mad at everybody else. It is not a hard thing to do, though it's sort of foolish, and it usually makes trouble for a lot of innocent bystanders. Jinx glared around at his friends, then he snarled at them and went out into the barnyard.

It was Mrs. Wiggins who found Sidney later in the day. He was in the cowbarn, hanging upside down against the wall. She told him what the animals wanted.

“Sure, sure!” he said. “I'll keep an eye on your old bank.”

“And you'll patrol it nights?”

“I said I would, didn't I?” said Sidney angrily. “What you want me to do—send you a letter about it?”

“I'm sorry to keep you awake when you want to go to sleep,” said the cow, “but I have to be sure of your answer, and good land, I can't tell whether you mean it or not when you're looking at me upside down.”

“ 'Tisn't upside down to me,” said the bat.

“Maybe not. But when you're talking to people, their expression is just as important as what they say, and you talk to anybody upside down and their expressions don't mean anything. Your mouth is at the top of your head and if you smile the corners turn down instead of up, and your eyes look funny too. You—”

“Look,” Sidney interrupted her. “I said I'd do it. Now just never mind criticizing my features and go on let me sleep, will you.”

So Mrs. Wiggins went away. “There's one thing that bat taught me,” she said to Freddy later. “I've never been a good liar. Folks can always tell by my face when I'm lying. Well, next time I want to tell a lie and get away with it, I'm going to stand on my head. Nobody can tell anything by my face then.”