Freddy and the Ignormus

by Walter R. Brooks

  “I’d like to see you try it,” said Freddy, who was always interested in such speculations. “You know, I wonder: if you started eating your own tail, and went right on eating—hind legs, body, fore legs—you’d finally eat up your own head, wouldn’t you?”

  “Try that one on the Ignormus,” said Jinx. “Come on, we’ve got to get those carrots for Mrs. Winnick.”

  Ordinarily it would have been easy enough to steal a dozen carrots from the vegetable garden. But today there were so many thieves of various shapes and sizes frantically pulling up radishes and picking beans and peas that they kept getting into one another’s way, and although they all pretended not to see one another, for a pig of Freddy’s position and standing in the community to join openly in such wholesale robbery was out of the question.

  “The Ignormus must have a tremendous appetite,” he said.

  “He must have written a lot of letters last night,” said Jinx. “Guess I’ll go up to the Big Woods and see if he doesn’t want to hire me as his secretary. But this isn’t getting us any carrots. Here, I’ll fix it.” And he jumped up on the wall and shouted: “Look out! Look out! Here comes Mr. Bean!”

  There was a great squeaking and scampering, and in half a minute the vegetable garden was as empty of animal life as the Big Woods themselves. And Jinx and Freddy went in and pulled up a dozen prime carrots without anyone seeing them.

  It was fairly late in the afternoon before they finally got them up through the woods and under the bridge. They had had to hide them in the grass until Freddy could bring a paper bag from his library to put them in, and on the way up to the woods they were stopped a dozen times by inquisitive friends who wanted to know what they were carrying. But they got them there at last, and then settled down in a clump of bushes a little way up the road where they could see who came for them.

  They had been there about half an hour when they found they were both getting very sleepy.

  “Ho, hum!” yawned Freddy. “We simply mustn’t go to sleep, Jinx. We may have to wait here half the night, and it isn’t even dark yet. How would it be,” he said brightly, “if I was to recite some of my poetry to you?”

  “You can try it,” said the cat doubtfully. “But you know, to me poetry—well, it’s like sitting in a car and watching the telegraph poles go by. The rhymes go by—heart, dart; love, dove—just like the poles. And I don’t know what it is—they send me right off. Now if you had some poetry that didn’t rhyme—”

  “But then it wouldn’t be poetry,” Freddy objected.

  “O.K.,” said the cat. “I’m just telling you. Goodness knows I’m no authority on poetry. I’m a great authority on sleep, though. Sleep; now that’s my subject. I’ve studied it from every angle. Boy, how I’ve studied sleep! And you know, I feel a study period coming on right now.” And he began to purr and closed his eyes.

  “No, no,” said Freddy. “We mustn’t. Listen, Jinx; let me just recite the B verse from my alphabet poem. I’d like your opinion of it. You see, first I say: ‘Bees, bothered by bold bears, behave badly.’ And the verse goes like this.

  “Your honey or your life!” says the bold burglar bear,

  As he climbs up the tree where the bees have their lair.

  “Burglars! Burglars!” The tree begins to hum.

  “Sharpen up your stings, brothers! Tighten up your wings, brothers!

  “Beat the alarm on the big bass drum!

  “Watch yourself, bear, for

  here

  we

  come!”

  Then the big black bees buzz out from their lair.

  With sharp stings ready zoom down on the bear.

  “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Don’t be so rough!”

  He slithers down the tree, squalling, “Hey, let me be!” Bawling

  “Keep your old honey. Horrid sticky stuff!

  “I’m going home, for

  I’ve

  Had

  enough!”

  Although he made many very appropriate gestures when he recited, Freddy always tilted his head back and shut his eyes. He said it made him put more feeling into it. When he had finished and opened his eyes, he saw that the cat was sound asleep.

  “Well of all the—” he began angrily, and suddenly stopped, for he saw something moving down the road. He waked up Jinx quietly, and the two watched as a small grey animal came slowly along towards them, stopping every now and then to sniff the air suspiciously.

  “By gum, it’s Simon!” said the cat suddenly. With one leap he was out on the road, and before the rat could scuttle off into the bushes Jinx had him.

  Simon knew better than to struggle. He knew that the sharp claws that were just barely pricking his back would dig deeper if he didn’t lie still.

  “Well, well,” he said with a malicious smile, “my old friend the mouse-chaser! Quite a surprise! Turned hold-up man, now, eh? Molesting unprotected and innocent citizens on the public roads. Well, I’m not surprised. You always had the makings of a gangster in you, Jinx.”

  “Better be polite, rat,” said Jinx, “or I’ll tickle you. Like this.” And he wiggled his claws gently.

  The rat squirmed. “You let me alone,” he squeaked. “What right have you got to pick on me? This road isn’t on old Bean’s property. I’m going along minding my own business. You mind yours.”

  “You let me alone,” he squeaked.

  “Your business is our business, Simon, old shifty-eye,” said Jinx.

  “It’s funny,” said Freddy, “that I’ve only been up here a few times, and yet twice I’ve seen you on the road. Last time you’d been visiting your relatives in Iowa. What is it this time?”

  But instead of answering, Simon burst into shrieks of hysterical laughter as he wriggled and twisted in the effort to get away from Jinx, who hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to tickle him again.

  “Let him alone, Jinx,” said Freddy. “I want him to talk, not yell in that undignified way.”

  So when Jinx had released him, Simon sat up, and said: “I don’t know why you’ve got any more right to ask me what I’m doing here than I have to ask you. However, since you’re so interested, there is no reason why I shouldn’t be perfectly frank.”

  “Oh-oh,” said Jinx, “look out for a bigger one than usual.”

  Simon grinned maliciously at the cat. “I would scarcely expect you to believe me,” he said. “People that tell lies all the time themselves don’t know the truth when they hear it. But I will tell you, Freddy, that the reason you see me in this neighborhood again is that I am on my way to visit my son, Ezra, who lives over beyond Centerboro.”

  “You’re a great family for visiting,” said Jinx, “though why any of you ever want to see any of the others beats me. You aren’t handsome, you aren’t honest, you aren’t even very good company—”

  “Spare me your compliments,” said Simon. “And if there’s nothing else you want to know, will you allow me to continue my journey? It is getting dark, and personally I would like to be as far from the Big Woods before nightfall as possible. I haven’t asked you what you are doing here, but I will tell you one thing you’re doing: you’re taking chances that I wouldn’t care to take. However, I warned you before. and if you choose to ignore my warning, it’s you that will be clawed to pieces—not me. Good evening, gentlemen.”

  He spoke the last word so sarcastically that Jinx moved towards him again, but Freddy held the cat back. “Let him go,” he said.

  “But I want to tickle him again,” the cat pleaded. “He makes such funny noises.”

  But Freddy wouldn’t let him, and the rat scuttled off down the road.

  “I don’t like Simon being around here so much,” said Freddy. “He may be telling the truth, of course. But if he and his family are planning to come back here to live, we’re going to have more trouble on our hands.”

  “Well, they certainly aren’t living anywhere around here now,” said Jinx. “A family of rats can’t live in a neighborhood without somebody
seeing them, and nobody’s seen anything of them except you, these two times on the road.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said the pig. “It’s when they get settled in as they did in Mr. Bean’s barn, with runways and passages and front doors and back doors and secret entrances that they’re hard to get rid of. And we’d stop them doing that another time. Gosh, we’ve got trouble enough with this Ignormus (if there is an Ignormus), without having rats around. Come on, let’s get back in our hiding place.”

  They found that after the encounter with Simon they weren’t sleepy any more, and they watched the sun down and the moon up, and they watched the moon swing across the sky and follow the sun down, but still nothing stirred, and no Ignormus came to call for the carrots and other vegetables. At last about three, in the morning Jinx got up and stretched.

  “Guess those notes were somebody’s idea of a joke,” he said. “If the Ignormus was coming, he’d have come by this time.”

  “Whoever wrote those notes wrote the one I found in the Grimby house,” said Freddy. “And that wasn’t a joke. No sir; the Ignormus (if there is an Ignormus) wrote them, and—”

  “Why do you keep saying: if there is an Ignormus?” cut in Jinx irritably.

  “Because I don’t really believe there is.”

  “Yeah?” said the cat. “And so you come up here to watch all night for him! Well, if he doesn’t exist, then we’ve seen him, we’ve seen what you expected to see, so let’s go home.” And he walked out of the hiding place.

  Freddy followed more slowly. And suddenly both animals looked up at a slight noise in the treetops on the Big Woods side of the road, and then with a terrified yell leaped the ditch and dove into the underbrush. For floating down silently like an enormous owl was a great white shape that hovered over them and seemed about to drop and seize them. In a last horrified glance over their shoulders, they saw on the front end of the creature a sort of head, with what looked like two long white horns. And then they were galloping and stumbling and tripping and panting their way down through the woods to safety.

  … floating down silently … was a great white shape

  “So he doesn’t exist, hey?” said Jinx, when they had at last thrown themselves down on the grass by the brook and had caught their breath. “Or else he’s a little animal with white whiskers. Huh! I suppose you’ll tell me that was a shadow or a cloud, or maybe Hank learning to fly.”

  “No, it was something, all right,” said Freddy.

  “Something I don’t have to get any better acquainted with,” replied the cat. “Flying elephants are out of my line. I’m going home.”

  “Well, I’m not,” said Freddy firmly. “Mr. Bean thinks I’m a thief, and all the animals are mad at me because I haven’t done anything about the Ignormus (if there is—)” he stopped. “Well, it looks as if there was one, after all. Anyway, I’m not coming home until I’ve solved this case. Either,” he said dramatically—“either I bring home the white hide of that Ignormus and nail it on the barn door, or you will never see your old Freddy again.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Jinx, who was never much impressed by speeches of this kind. “Well, don’t let him get your hide. And if you want help, you know where to find me. So long.”

  When Jinx had gone, Freddy sat and thought for a while. And this time he didn’t go to sleep. Never, in any of his detective cases, had he met so many reverses, or been so baffled. And the animals were beginning to mistrust his ability. If he failed now he would never be Freddy, the great detective any more; he would be just Freddy—a pig. He got up and walked slowly in the growing light of dawn towards the Big Woods.

  Chapter 12

  For once Freddy had no plan of campaign. He was going into the Big Woods and find the Ignormus. He didn’t know whether he’d talk to him, or fight with him, or run away. He didn’t feel at all brave just determined, even though he was half scared to death. That is the best kind of bravery. It isn’t any trick to be brave when you’re not scared. And Freddy was scared all right. His tail had come completely uncurled. But he went on.

  When he got to the road, he looked for the vegetables that the various animals had left for the Ignormus. And sure enough they were gone. Evidently he had collected them. Freddy crossed the road and plunged into the Big Woods. It was dark and it was scary, but Freddy trudged steadily along, and as he trudged he made up a little song to keep his spirits up. It went like this:

  It was dark in the woods,

  It was very, very scary,

  But the pig trudged along,

  Always watchful and wary.

  The pig trudged along,

  And he made a little song

  (He was rather literary)

  It was quite extraordinary

  How he sang his little song

  In a voice clear and strong.

  Though it’s rather customary

  For a pig, when something’s wrong

  In a forest dark and scary,

  Dim and Dark and solitary.

  To sneak quietly along

  Not to be so very, very

  Brave and bold and military.

  But this pig, he was bold,

  He was brave as a lion,

  And he walked through the woods

  Without yellin’ or cryin’—

  Freddy had got to this place in his song, and was indeed feeling quite bold, when he gave a yell and leaped three feet in the air. Well, maybe he didn’t leap three feet, but it was a good six inches. For something had jumped out of the underbrush at him.

  The something was only Theodore, as Freddy fortunately saw before he could gather his legs under him and start to run. The frog sat up on his hind legs and saluted. “Your faithful hound, sir,” he said.

  “Nothing very faithful about scaring me to death,” Freddy grumbled.

  “I could have scared you worse by staying in the bushes and giving little gug-gug—I mean grunts. I just thought if you were going up for that g-gun I’d like to go along.”

  “Come on, then,” said Freddy. “Only stop stammering, will you? Now I know why you do it, I know you’re just taking time to think up smart things to say, and I’m not in the mood for smart conversation.”

  So they went on up towards the Grimby house. Nothing happened until they got within sight of the house. Then they stopped.

  “The front door’s closed,” said Freddy.

  “It was open last time we were here,” said Theodore.

  Freddy took a deep breath, and his tail, which had been uncurled because he was scared, was now curled up tight with determination. “Come on,” he said between his teeth, and started on towards the house.

  But this time Theodore didn’t follow him. “There’s something sticking out of the window beside the door,” said the frog. “And whenever we move, it moves too and keeps pointing at us.”

  Freddy kept on a step or two, and then stopped again, for he had seen the thing too. He moved to the right, and the thing moved to the right and pointed at him. Then he jumped to the left, and it swung over to the left, still pointing. “Funny,” he said. “I can’t imagine—” And then he said: “Oh, gosh!” and ducked quickly back among the trees. For he had seen two holes in the end of the thing, and he realized all at once that it was Mr. Bean’s shotgun.

  Now a double-barreled shotgun holds two cartridges, and has two triggers, one for each barrel. For the life of him Freddy couldn’t remember whether, when he had shot the gun off, he had pulled both triggers, or only one. If he’d pulled both, why the gun was as harmless as a stick, because there weren’t any extra cartridges. But if he’d pulled only one, then there was still a cartridge in the other barrel, and the Ignormus, or whoever was pointing the gun at him, could easily pull that other trigger and the results would be unpleasant.

  He explained all this to Theodore, but the frog seemed to feel that there wasn’t much danger. “Oh, go on, Freddy,” he said. “You said you were going into the house, no matter what. You were going to beard the Ignormus in h
is lair, you said.”

  “Oh, I said, I said!” replied Freddy crossly. “I didn’t say I was going to walk right up and let somebody shoot me.”

  “He can’t shoot you if there isn’t anything in the gun. And if it is still loaded, he’d probably pull the wrong trigger. And if he pulled the right trigger, the chances are he isn’t a very good shot and he’d miss you. And if he did hit you—”

  “Look, frog,” interrupted Freddy. “I’m not going. So stop arguing. I’ve got an idea, anyway. I’m going to get Randolph.”

  So they started back. It was funny, Freddy thought as he trotted along, how you always walked very slowly when you went into the Big Woods, but going out again you almost ran. Theodore, for instance, had taken just little hops on the way in, but now he was clearing the ground in great leaps that soon sent him out of sight ahead. “I guess,” Freddy thought, “if you were scared all the time, you’d get a lot more work done.” And he was trying to think out a scheme for scaring people that worked in factories and shops, so that they’d get all their day’s work done in the morning, and would have the afternoon free to play games, when Theodore came sailing back over a bush and landed at his feet. “Sssssh,” whispered the frog. “There’s something going on out in the road. Sneak up quietly.”

  So they worked their way silently along from tree to tree until they could see the road, just where it ran over the little bridge. Behind one of the uprights that held up the bridge railing an animal was crouching. He was small, but he was one of the queerest animals anybody ever saw. For his tail seemed to be a plume of feathers, and his whiskers—well, they were the kind of whiskers you seldom see on an animal; in fact, you seldom see them anywhere. I have never seen them except on Mr. Bean, whose whiskers were thick and bushy, and covered his face right up to the eyes. This animal’s whiskers might have been modeled on Mr. Bean’s, for his face was just a fluff of white, above which a pair of beady black eyes peered suspiciously.