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Authors: Walter R. Brooks

The Story of Freginald (19 page)

BOOK: The Story of Freginald
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The tiger came out with a bound. “Out the back way and down the road,” Freginald whispered.

Rajah grinned. “Back way, nothing,” he said. “Me and Hack are going to have a little talk first. Just a little friendly talk. Maybe he'll invite me to have something to eat.” And he laughed under his breath.

“You can't do that,” said Freginald firmly. “You'll spoil the whole thing. You'll rouse the camp and half the animals won't get away.”

“They won't need to get away,” said Rajah, “not when there isn't any more Mr. Hackenmeyer to bully 'em. Stand aside, young bear. I don't want to hurt you but I've got a bone to pick with Hack. Ha, a bone to pick—that's a good one, eh?”

“Very funny,” muttered a deep voice behind him. Hannibal had come up behind him and stood with his trunk curled up and his long white tusks close to the tiger's side. “Move on, Rajah, or I'll do some bone-picking myself, and there'll be a nice tigerskin rug in Mr. Boomschmidt's parlor.”

Rajah flattened his ears and backed away. Then all at once his ears pricked up and he grinned. “Right,” he said good-naturedly. “I beg your pardon, elephant. I won't spoil the party.” And he slouched off after the other animals.

After that everything went smoothly. In an hour every animal had been marched out of the camp. Even the zebras, who are a silly giggly lot usually, always trying to be funny at the wrong time, got away without waking anyone.

At half past seven in the morning, when Mr. McGinnis reached the construction job, the animals were ready for him. With the exception of two horses and two yaks, who had been sent over to the Scatterthwaite place, they were lined up in pairs, ready for his inspection. He walked down the line, followed by Freddy, Freginald, and Leo, chuckling to himself. “Bear!” he said. “Buffaloes! Reindeer! Boy, oh boy! What a job this is going to be! Anybody got a camera? I'll want a picture of myself driving a team of tigers to send to my old mother in County Mayo.”

As soon as he had looked the animals over, his men began harnessing them up. Some of the harness had to be altered a good deal, but by noon they were all at work. They were so happy to be away from Mr. Hackenmeyer that they shouted and sang and worked twice as hard as the regular horse teams. One of the lion teams, hauling building materials from the Centerboro freight yard to the job, made the return trip of four miles with a full load of bricks in twenty-six minutes flat. The smaller animals worked too, holding things and running errands and so on. Mr. McGinnis was delighted. Even the fat man was so caught up by the general spirit that he stopped drawing pictures of what he would like to do to the boss and started to put in a full day's work.

Freginald and Leo stayed until they were sure that everything was going smoothly, and then they said good-by to Mr. McGinnis. They had just turned to leave when Rod, the trick horse, came galloping into the field, and perched on top of him was a small round figure in a bright plaid suit and a silk hat.

“Gosh,” said Leo, “Mr. Boomschmidt! I'm going to beat it.” And he ducked quickly behind a pile of lumber.

Mr. Boomschmidt pulled up beside Freginald. “My goodness, Freginald,” he said, “I've been looking all over for you. Where on earth have you been? And what have you been up to? A fine rumpus you've caused, I must say! Come out from behind that lumber, Leo. Come on, I can see the tip of your tail sticking out.”

“Hello, chief,” said Leo, strolling nonchalantly out and smiling pleasantly. “I didn't know you were here.”

“No, I dare say not. Didn't see me coming, did you? Well, so here's where Hack's animals are, hey? There's a fine how-de-do down at the circus grounds. Hack sent the sheriff there. Accuses me of stealing his menagerie. Now we'll have to round 'em up and send 'em back.”

“You won't be able to do that, chief,” said Freginald. “They wouldn't go. They're on strike.”

“Good gracious! On strike, are they? What for?”

“Oh, the usual thing,” said Leo. “Better living-conditions. You know how Hackenmeyer treats them. They've got sick of it, that's all.”

“My goodness,” said Mr. Boomschmidt, “it's too bad if they aren't happy, but after all, they belong to Mr. Hackenmeyer. You boys haven't any right to interfere. I suppose it was you that let 'em out?”

“Give 'em Hail Columbia, boss,” said Rod, turning around and looking up at his master. “You're always too easy with 'em. You never punish Leo for anything he does. —Ouch!” He gave a sudden wild whinny of laughter and shied sideways, for Leo, who was standing close to him, had made a clutch at him. “Quit, Leo! You know I'm ticklish! Stop it!”

“Stop it, Leo,” shouted Mr. Boomschmidt, whose hat fell off as he clutched Rod's mane. “Darn you anyway, haven't you caused enough trouble today without playing your silly jokes?”

“Sorry, chief,” said Leo, handing Mr. Boomschmidt his hat. “I just couldn't resist it somehow. Rod looks so silly when he giggles.”

“Well,” said Mr. Boomschmidt, “I don't know what I am to do, I'm sure. Oh, good gracious, there's the sheriff now,” he said, as a buggy containing two men drove in off the road. One of the men was Lucky, Mr. Hackenmeyer's drum major, and the other was an older man in his shirt-sleeves with a tuft of gray whisker on his chin and a silver star pinned to his vest.

Mr. McGinnis came out to meet them, and Mr. Boomschmidt, followed by Freginald and Leo, rode over.

“You got to get these animals back,” the sheriff was saying. “This here feller is Mr. Hackenmeyer's assistant, and he's lodged a complaint agin ye. He says they're Hackenmeyer's property.”

“I don't know anything about that,” said Mr. McGinnis. “I was approached yesterday by an independent contractor who said he could supply me with labor. He brought these animals here, and now they're working for me. If you take 'em off the job I'll have to sue you for restraint of trade or something.”

“I don't want to get involved in no lawsuit,” said the sheriff, looking worried. “That's why I took this job as sheriff. I figured, whatever happened, they never could make me arrest myself. But let's get to the bottom of this. Who's your contractor?”

“Fellow named Freddy,” said Mr. McGinnis with a grin.

“Freddy!” exclaimed the sheriff. “Hold on, you don't mean Mr. Bean's pig?”

“I don't know whose pig he is, but he's a smart business man.”

“He's all of that,” said the sheriff. “Why, Freddy's the best detective in the county. He's helped me on a lot of cases. Well, now, if Freddy is in this, mister,” he said, turning to Lucky, “it must be all right.”

“These are Mr. Hackenmeyer's animals,” said Lucky, “and he sent me over to bring them back. And, believe me, I'm going to. It'll cost me my job if I don't.”

Suddenly he looked over Mr. McGinnis's head and turned pale. “Good heavens!” he said; “you're taking a terrible chance, McGinnis. Do you know that the tiger you've got harnessed to that wagon is one of the most ferocious tigers in captivity?”

“He isn't in captivity now,” said Mr. McGinnis. “Maybe that's why he isn't ferocious any more. Hey!” He motioned to the driver. “Pull that team over here.”

Lucky seemed scared, but he kept his seat as the tigers approached. “Hello, Lucky,” said Rajah good-naturedly.

“Er—hello, Rajah,” said Lucky nervously. “What's all this about, anyway?”

“We've all gone on strike.”

“What for?”

“You ought to know,” said the tiger. “You've always been pretty decent to us. We've got nothing against you. But that Hackenmeyer—” He snarled angrily. “You know how he treats us.”

“Yes, I know, Rajah. But, just the same, you belong to him, and—”

“Ah, baloney!” interrupted Rajah coarsely. “If he wants us back, tell him to come on over and get us. Boy, will we give him a reception!”

Mr. Boomschmidt had moved closer, and now he said: “I can't understand this. Hack was always kind to the animals. Everybody we had was kind to 'em. Except that Mortimer Mendoza, I never had a man who treated 'em badly. He—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Boomschmidt,” interrupted Freginald excitedly. “Did you say that Mendoza's first name was Mortimer? Your old ringmaster?”

“Sure. That was his name.”

“Oh, then I know who this Mr. Hackenmeyer is. He's Mendoza.”

“He couldn't be,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Mendoza was a clean-shaven man with—”

“With straight black hair,” said Freginald. “Sure, but he's grown a mustache, and he has his hair curled. He does that so he'll look like Mr. Hackenmeyer. Listen, Mr. Boomschmidt, I heard him talking to himself one day, and he spoke of himself as Mortimer. I'll bet anything he's the man.”

“Hello, bear,” said Lucky with a smile. “You're right about that. I've heard him call himself Mortimer too.”

“Well, upon my word!” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “But if he's Mendoza, where's Hack? What's he done with him? Look here, sheriff; here's a man that's impersonating another man, and the other man has disappeared. Isn't there some sort of a law against that?”

“Good grief!” said the sheriff, “I should think there ought to be. I dunno. Anyway, you got me kind of mixed up. Which one has disappeared?”

“Can't you settle this later?” said Mr. McGinnis. “I've got work to do, sheriff. Now, as I take it you aren't going to try to return these animals to the circus—”

“You take it wrong, then,” said the sheriff. “I got my duty to do and I'm a-goin' to do it.”

“All right,” put in Rajah, “if you feel that way about it, suppose you begin with me.” And he grinned defiantly.

The sheriff scowled at him. “You're a big tiger, and you know darn well I can't do anything about you by myself. But let me tell you something. There's a law in this county, and if I can't enforce it alone I'll go to the Governor. And he'll send a company of the National Guard down here with rifles and machine-guns, and if I was you I'd kind of hesitate before I talked so big.”

Rajah looked a little thoughtful at this, but then he grinned again and said: “I'll think over what you say, sheriff. I can tell better about the National Guard when I see 'em.”

“Rajah's right,” said Lucky suddenly. “Hackenmeyer or Mendoza or whoever he is does treat his animals badly. I wouldn't have stayed with him as long as I have, only I have a family to support, and circus jobs are hard to find. But, just the same, I'm quitting. You can count me out, sheriff. If he wants his animals back he can come get 'em himself.”

The sheriff scratched his head. “Sure,” he said. “Sure. But where does that leave me?”

“Well, my gracious,” said Mr. Boomschmidt, “I guess it leaves you free to arrest this Mendoza. Or at least you can go over and make him tell you where Hack is. Why, to think that I split up with Hack because of something he didn't do!”

“I guess this Mendoza kind of made a monkey of you, boss,” said Rod.

“You shut up, Rod,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “I guess I know my own business. I'm going over and see this fellow myself. Eh, Leo? We'll go over and have a look at him. He's refused to see me before. Probably afraid I'd recognize him. I'll know whether he's Hack or not. And if he isn't, I'll tell him a few things! But I wish I knew where Hack was.”

“I've got an idea where he is,” said Lucky. “I'll go with you. I think we can straighten things out.”

“Well,” said the sheriff, “in that case I'll be goin' along—”

“No you don't,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “You're coming. Good gracious, we must have the law with us.”

“We don't need the law, chief,” said Leo.

“To tell you the truth,” said the sheriff, scratching his head, “I wouldn't know what to do. This is sort of a complicated case, and I ain't used to dealin' with such, and that's a fact. We mostly get pretty simple crimes, like murder an' pig-stealin'. No, you go along and settle it your own way. Besides, Centerboro is playin' East Waddams up to the ball ground today and they can't start unless the sheriff throws out the first ball. You wouldn't want to spoil the game.”

“You can't spoil a ball game, boss,” said Rod. “It's un-American.”

“Well, all right, sheriff,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “But suppose I want to have this fellow arrested?”

“The key to the jail's under the front doormat,” said the sheriff. “You just shove him in and lock him up and put the key back.”

So they said good-by to Mr. McGinnis and then Mr. Boomschmidt, with Lucky and Freginald and Leo, started back for the circus. And all the Hackenmeyer animals lined up and saluted as they went out the gate.

BOOK: The Story of Freginald
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