“It is no joking matter, son,” said Simon. “When Bertram came in just now, there was a tail-feather sticking out of the little door in his back. And it was not a woodpecker’s tail-feather.”
“Father!” said Ezra. “You don’t mean—?”
“I mean—” Simon began. And then he stopped. “What’s that?” he asked sharply, for a faint giggle had come out of the darkness beyond the feed-bin.
Simon made a jump for the edge of the bin, but he was too late. With a bang the cover came down, shutting them in as tightly and as hopelessly as if they had been locked in the vault of the Centerboro National Bank. And Jinx’s voice mocked them. “Sleep well, my little darlings,” he said soothingly. “Jinx is watching over you. Jinx is right here. He will stay on the top of the bin all night. Good night, my little dears.”
With a bang the cover came down
At dawn, as the birds took their heads out from under their wings and shook themselves, they saw Bertram still sitting in the chair. They ranged themselves in a row on the bench, and after a while Bertram said: “John Quincy, beat assembly.”
So John Quincy went over to the door and drummed assembly on it with his beak.
Grover had established a strict discipline in his army. Within three minutes they were lined up in the barnyard and ready to march, and many of the other animals, too, had roused at the sound of the drumming and come out to see what was going on. Then Bertram went to the door.
“Soldiers,” he shouted, “you have served me well and faithfully. But I have come to see that the sacrifices which war entails are too great. You have worked hard—too hard. No empire is worth such labor. Therefore I dismiss you. Go to your homes. Let us give up this dream of empire and cultivate the arts of peace.”
There was a lot of excited cheering from the army, for most of them hadn’t found it such fun to march half-way across the county and back every day just in order to say that another state had been added to the F.A.R. But John Quincy and X were astonished.
“Why, Father,” said John Quincy, “you just passed a law yesterday about military service for rabbits and some other animals. What will we do with them when they report for duty?”
“What was the law?” asked Bertram. “Repeat it to me.”
“Why, I don’t remember exactly,” said John Quincy. “Do you, Xie? Only it was rabbits and—and chickens, I guess. They have to serve three months, or was it five?”
“It must be a pretty poor law,” said Bertram, “if you can’t remember it the day after it was passed. I declare that law repealed. I declare all laws which I have made since I came into office repealed, and all orders void.”
Hank was standing with the rest down in the yard. He had a feather stuck in his mane. It looked like a woodpecker’s tail-feather.
“Do you mean I can go back and live downstairs in the barn, like I always used to do?” he asked.
“You can,” said Bertram. “And the mice can come back, and the chickens can go back into the chicken-house. The rats—”
“Down with the rats!” shouted Charles, and a number of the animals drew away from him, looking scared, for the rats stood high in the new government’s favor.
“The rats are guilty of conspiracy,” said Bertram. “They have been imprisoned.”
At this there was a great whispering among the members of Grover’s staff, and one of the hawks said: “Mr. President, with all due respect, the rats are our most able military advisers. We should be lost without them.”
“Yes, Father,” said John Quincy, “listen to Cecil. You can’t mean to punish them. What did they do?”
“Silence!” said Bertram, turning on the woodpeckers. “My orders for you are to proceed at once to Washington, and to wait there until I come.”
“But, Grandfather—” said Xie.
“At once!” said Bertram, and as they still hesitated, he picked them from his shoulders with his left hand and tossed them out of the window into the air, where they circled once or twice and then flew up into the elm, to talk excitedly together.
“Now, my friends,” said Bertram, “I will ask you one question. Are you pleased with me, or do you still want to go on with the conquest of more and more territory for the F.A.R.?”
“Good for you, Grover!” the animals shouted. “No more war. Let’s go back to the way we used to live.”
“Very well,” said Bertram. “And now I will tell you that it is not Grover who is speaking to you; it is Ronald. Last night, under the leadership of Freddy, and with the help of Mr. Henry Weezer and a company of wasps, we captured Grover. We have banished him, and he will not return. Since he no longer controls Bertram, he no longer holds the power. And I am at last at liberty to invite our real president, the one whom we elected, and who will run this farm in Mr. Bean’s absence, to enter into office. Ladies and gentlemen, animals, birds, insects, and hoptoads, I give you Mrs. Wiggins!”
And through the ranks of happy and shouting animals Mrs. Wiggins came slowly forward. There were tears in her eyes when she faced them—good big honest tears, such as only a generous-hearted cow like Mrs. Wiggins can shed.
“Well, dear me,” she said, “I must say you animals have gone through a lot to make me your president. So I guess the only thing I can do is to be as good a one as I can. And I expect the thing I’d like you to do best is to just go on doing the things you want to do, as you always have. As for you, John Quincy and X—” She looked up into the elm. “Oh, well, they’ve gone. Just as well, I guess. So now, animals, I thank you. I guess that’s all I’ve got to say.”
An hour or so later, Freddy went down to the bank, to see how things were getting on. He was outside, busily painting the words: “For Animals Only” under the bank’s name on the sign, when he heard a faint tapping on the roof of the bank, and looking up, saw John Quincy and X sitting there watching him.
“Look, Freddy,” said John Quincy, “we don’t want to go back to Washington. Father’s going to be pretty hard to live with after this defeat. He’s always terribly grouchy when his pride is hurt, and this has hurt it bad. Couldn’t you keep us on as clerks? We’d look after things. You wouldn’t have to get here at all if you didn’t want to—”
Freddy looked up at them thoughtfully. It certainly would be nice. To be president, and have no responsibility at all. And then he thought: “Responsibility! That’s what Mr. Bean thinks I have. It would be letting him down to try to get out of responsibility. And anyway, could I really trust those two?”
He picked up his paintbrush and drew two thick lines through the names of John Quincy and X.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1939 by Walter R. Brooks
ISBN: 978-1-4976-9214-5
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Freddy the Politician Page 15