Freddy and the Ignormus

by Walter R. Brooks

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the cow.

  Mr. Bean didn’t say anything, but he stopped puffing on his pipe so long that it went out, and that shows you how deeply he was affected. The only time I can ever remember that he stopped puffing so long that it went out before was when Mrs. Wiggins’s grandmother broke her leg, and that was way back in 1903. He stood thinking for a minute; then he said to Mrs. Bean: “Guess Hank’ll want to go along.” And he went over and unharnessed Hank from the buggy.

  Now Hank hadn’t heard the stirring speeches of Charles and Freddy, and he didn’t know any more about what had been going on than Mr. Bean did, because he had been in Centerboro. And as the Beans walked back and got up on the porch to watch the army march away, he said to Mrs. Wiggins: “What’s this all about?”

  “War,” said Mrs. Wiggins grimly. “No time to tell you now; I’ve got to get this army under way. But Freddy’s found out that the rats are living in the Big Woods. They’ve made some kind of an alliance with the Ignormus, and that’s what’s behind all this robbing and plundering. So we’re going to clean them out You’d better carry the flag, Hank. We can stick it through your halter.”

  “Oh, I dunno,” said Hank doubtfully. “If it’s war—well, I’ve never attended any wars, and I don’t expect I’d be much good. Fighting, I suppose?”

  “Who ever heard of a war without fighting?” said the cow.

  “I was afraid of that,” said Hank. “Oh, I guess you’d better count me out. I never did like fighting—noisy, uncomfortable thing to do. ‘Tain’t that I’m afraid, you understand—at least I guess I’m not. Or am I? Well, maybe I am, a mite. I ain’t any hero, and that’s what you need for wars and such. I’m just an old horse that wants to be comfortable and—”

  “You’re a worse talker than Charles, when you get started,” interrupted Mrs. Wiggins. “Anyhow, you’re going, so pick up that flag. As for being afraid, you aren’t any scareder than I am, and that’s the truth. But we can’t either of us back out—not when the honor of the F.A.R. is at stake.”

  “Mebbe you’re right,” said the horse. He sighed, then picked up the flag, and when Mrs. Wiggins had helped him poke the staff through his halter so he could carry it upright, he moved to the center of the line. And Mrs. Wiggins stepped up beside him and shouted in her deepest voice: “Forward!”

  Mr. Bean took off his hat and stood at attention as the flag of the F.A.R. went by. The army marched through the barnyard, and then spread out as it advanced across the meadows towards the woods. At the duck pond, Alice and Emma watched it go by.

  “Almost seems, sister, as if we ought to be with them,” said Alice. “Though what use we’d be in a battle I can’t imagine.”

  “Our Uncle Wesley always said,” replied Emma, “that it wasn’t strength that counted in warfare, it was courage. And what courage he had, what spirit! He was small, even for a duck, but do you remember the time he spoke so sharply to that tramp cat that was hanging around here?”

  “He would have liked us to go along,” said Alice. “Sister, I think we should.” So the two ducks climbed out of the pond and waddled after the army, a small but very determined rearguard.

  Up through the Bean woods the animals went, as quietly as possible, and then spread out by companies along the road while Mrs. Wiggins gave them their orders for the day. Charles would lead the left wing of the army into the Big Woods, keeping well to the left of the Grimby house until he had passed it, when he would swing right to get into contact with the right wing, under Peter, which would have swung around in the same way from the other side. Mrs. Wiggins would give them ten minutes’ start, and would then lead the center directly upon the house. Thus the enemy would be completely surrounded, and at a signal from Mrs. Wiggins the army would attack from all sides at once.

  Freddy and Randolph were waiting as patiently as they could for the farm animals to put in an appearance. They really didn’t have to wait long. Pretty soon the silence was broken by distant sounds, rustlings and snappings, which grew to a continuous crackle and swish, interspersed with occasional crashes as some animal plunged over a fallen log. The noise grew and grew, on both sides of them, and Freddy said:

  “I suppose that’s their idea of sneaking up on someone. Sounds more like a cyclone coming than anything else. Why can’t they be quieter?”

  There was a tremendous crash off to the right, and then the voice of Mrs. Wogus: “I declare! I believe I’ve sprained my right horn. It hit on that tree when I fell. What’s the idea of having these trees growing all higgledy-piggledy like this? They ought to be in nice neat rows, then you’d know where you were.”

  “A swell soldier she makes!” remarked Randolph. “Talk about me not being able to keep my legs from getting mixed up!”

  The crashing died down gradually as the animals on the wings took up their positions. But then from behind Freddy came more sounds. The center was advancing directly upon them.

  “I’m going up this tree,” said Randolph. “No place for me with this mob galloping around. See you later.” And he ran quickly up the trunk.

  In a minute more Freddy could see Mrs. Wiggins’s white nose pushing through the bushes, and to the left of her, and high up, the red, white and blue banner of the F.A.R. jigged along as Hank clambered over stumps and through tangled underbrush. A dozen squirrels came bounding along ahead, and darted up trees to observation posts from which they could watch the activities of the enemy. Then the two dogs came into sight. But only the stealthy movement of a leaf here and there betrayed the presence of the two cats.

  Mrs. Wiggins halted her followers behind a screen of trees and surveyed the house. All the animals with her had now seen the gun pointed at them, and the enthusiasm with which they had set out began to evaporate. Freddy ran over to them.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “There’s nothing in the gun. I’ve seen to that. There’s no danger.”

  “Says you!” remarked Jinx. He went over to Mrs. Wiggins. “Listen, General,” he said, “if anything happens to me, you kind of look after Minx, won’t you? She isn’t very bright, but she’s all the sister I’ve got, and—”

  “What kind of talk is that on the eve of battle?” demanded the cow severely. “Get in there and fight, cat. Freddy says the gun isn’t loaded—”

  Several voices were raised. “Oh, he does, hey?” “Let him walk up and look in it, then.”

  “Silence in the ranks,” said Mrs. Wiggins sternly. She stepped out boldly into full view of the house. “Inside the house, there,” she called. “If there’s anyone there who has any good reason to offer why we shouldn’t come in and tear you to pieces, let him come out under a flag of truce.”

  There was a scuttling and whispering inside the house, then the door opened a crack and Simon came out, carrying in his mouth a piece of white cloth which looked a good deal like the sleeve of one of Mr. Bean’s Sunday shirts.

  “Why, as I live and breathe!” he said. “If it isn’t my old friend, Mrs. Wiggins!” His upper lip curved back from his long yellow teeth in a sneering smile. “How glad my master, the Ignormus, will be to hear your cheerful moo. Yes, he has been quite peevish today because he had feared to have nothing more tasty for supper than that rather insipid pig there, garnished with carrots and onions, and perhaps a few hard boiled eggs. But a whole cow, now—that is something like a meal! So you are doubly welcome—both as an old friend, and as something for supper that is big enough for everybody to have a second helping.”

  “Always the joker, Simon,” said Mrs. Wiggins calmly. “But is that all you have to say? Because, if it is, we’re coming in.”

  “My dear Mrs. Wiggins!” said Simon with an oily smirk. “Of course you’re coming in. A supper invitation from the Ignormus—I tell you, they are not offered to everyone.”

  “H’m,” said Mrs. Wiggins; “with such a soul for hospitality, it does seem odd to me that the Ignormus doesn’t come out to greet his guests.”

  “He’ll be out, never fear,”
replied the rat. “But as you see, he has at first prepared a little reception for you.” And he waved a paw towards the window from which the gun protruded.

  Mrs. Wiggins didn’t like the gun much. Neither, apparently, did her army. For with the exception of Hank, who stood stolidly holding the flag, all of them had become remarkably invisible. If there was going to be a charge, it looked as if she was going to make it all by herself.

  Freddy, however, realized what was going on. There was no time to explain about how the gun had been unloaded. He dashed out in front of the army, and directly towards the gun. “Come on, animals!” he shouted. “Down with the Ignormus! Death to Simon and his gang! Oh, go on; shoot your old gun; who’s afraid?”

  Some of the animals, afterwards—some of them, that is, who were a little envious of Freddy’s fine reputation, both as detective and as poet—said that it wasn’t very honest of him to act as if he were being a hero, when all the time he knew the gun wasn’t loaded. But Freddy knew that it needed a heroic action—at least, one that looked heroic—to get the army to attack the house. He really intended to tell everybody afterwards about the gun, and if he forgot it, and it only got around later through something Randolph said to his old mother, which was repeated to a June bug of her acquaintance, and thus passed on (for the June bug was a terrible gossip) to various insects, and thence to the animals,—well, if he forgot it, I guess we all forget things like that sometimes.

  Anyway, his apparent bravery had its effect. The animals jumped up; “Charge!” bellowed Mrs. Wiggins; and Charles on the left and Peter on the right echoed the command. With a crashing of branches and pounding of hoofs and scrabbling of claws the army charged, closing in from all sides on the Grimby house. The din was terrific enough to frighten a dozen Ignormuses, for as the animals charged, they yelled; and since each animal has a different kind of yell, there was a combination of roars and squeaks and screeches and bellows such as has probably never before been brought together at any one time, even in a zoo. And the gun went off with a thunderous Bang!

  Chapter 15

  Freddy was pretty close to the gun when it went off, and though there were no shot in it, he got a few grains of powder blown into his left shoulder. He was always pretty proud, afterwards, of these scars of honorable warfare, and it was noticed that when he went to the movies he always tried to get a seat on the aisle on the right side of the orchestra, so people would notice them. Of course when he was asked about them, he would never say much, but there was usually some friend with him who would explain to the questioner, and Freddy would look very modest and stern and noble, like an old soldier, to whom such wounds are but trifles.

  Well, Freddy wasn’t hurt, but there was one shot in the gun that the centipedes had missed, and that buzzed past Freddy and hit a tree and bounced and struck Hank in his off hind leg. It wasn’t much of a blow, but Hank had rheumatism in his off hind leg, and there’s nothing such a person dislikes so much as to have his attention called to his rheumatism with a sharp blow. Hank was the mildest mannered horse in the state, but now he gave a whinny of rage and bounded forward. With the banner of the F.A.R. fluttering over him, he led the charge right up the porch steps. His feet broke through the rotten floor boards several times, but he plunged on and up to the front door. He put his shoulder against the door and shoved, and as it didn’t move, he turned around and let fly a tremendous kick with his two powerful iron-shod hind hoofs. It drove the door off its hinges and halfway down the hall, and the army poured in.

  Charles’s command, in the meantime, had got in through the cellar door, and after capturing two rats who were on guard there, streamed up the cellar stairs and occupied the kitchen. The right wing, under Peter, had a slower time of it. They found no doors on their side of the house, and the windows were all boarded up. After a short consultation, the two cows stood side by side, close to the house, and Peter got up on their backs, and then the smaller animals: the skunks, and Cecil, the porcupine, and Bill, the goat, climbed up one by one, and Peter, standing on the cows’ backs on his hind legs, was just tall enough to pass them up on to the roof, where they at once began clawing away the brittle old shingles. In no time at all they had made holes, through which they dropped into the attic.

  Peter got up on their backs.

  It was unfortunate that Peter, though he could get up on the roof, was too big to get through any of the holes between the rafters into the attic. For when the attack on the house had begun, the main body of rats had retreated to the attic, and now the six skunks, the goat and the porcupine found themselves surrounded by a much superior force. The rats, squealing and snarling, advanced upon them. The skunks dove into an empty trunk and managed to pull the lid down so they were safe. Bill backed into a corner, and with sweeps of his long horns kept the attackers at bay. Nevertheless there were so many of them that in time they would probably have pulled him down, if it hadn’t been for Cecil. A porcupine almost never fights, but when he does it is always with his back to the enemy. Cecil stood between Bill’s forelegs and made occasional backward dashes out at the rats, from which they scattered in alarm. Once, with a quick jerk of his tail, he managed to stick half a dozen quills into the nose of Zeke, who retired whimpering; and another time, a too daring young rat, unfamiliar with the ways of porcupines, bit at him as he came out—and regretted it very bitterly immediately afterward; for a porcupine after all is nothing but a pincushion on four legs, with all the pin points out.

  When Peter saw what was going on, he dropped down from the roof and ran around the house and in the front door. The house was full of animals, some of them hunting for rats, others smashing in doors in their search for the Ignormus. They were all so excited and shouting so loud that at first Peter could not make himself heard. But at last he managed to get Hank’s attention. The horse was in the kitchen, standing guard over the washtubs. Every time a rat was captured, he was dropped into one of the tubs for safe keeping, and Hank had one hoof on the lid, to prevent the prisoners from escaping. He didn’t hear very clearly what Peter said to him, and somehow got the idea that it was the Ignormus who was in the attic. But he was still mad clean through about that shot, and if, as he supposed, it was the Ignormus who had fired it at him, he was going to give that Ignormus a beating he wouldn’t forget. Hank gave a loud neigh of anger and wheeling, jumped clean over several small animals who were shoving through the doorway and went pounding up the stairs.

  He burst into the attic just as Ezra, the largest and toughest of Simon’s sons, had darted in under the sweep of Bill’s horns and fastened his teeth in the goat’s shoulder. Bill reared, and several other rats, avoiding Cecil, charged in, and in another minute they would have pulled Bill down. But with a rush and a clatter of hoofs Hank was on them. He struck at them—right, left, right, left—with his iron front shoes, and with every stroke a rat went crashing into the wall on the other side of the attic. Then with his great front teeth he plucked Ezra from Bill’s shoulder, and with a toss of his head, sent the rat sailing out through a hole in the roof. In two minutes there wasn’t a rat left in the attic, except those who were lying unconscious against the wall.

  So then the skunks came out of the trunk, and the animals dragged the senseless rats downstairs and dropped them into the washtub.

  By this time, the excitement in the rest of the house had died down. Every room had been explored, and large parts of the cellar floor had been dug up, to find if the rats had built any secret runways by which they could escape from the house without being seen. But evidently they had felt too safe under the protection of the Ignormus to bother with underground passages. A number had tried to escape through windows and doors, but the squirrel watchers had spotted them, and Jinx and Minx and Georgie had been able to capture them before they got away.

  In the pantry off the kitchen the animals found a large store of vegetables, and all the loot that had been stolen from the bank. They also found an old quilt, whose cotton stuffing the rats had used for their false w
hiskers, and a feather duster which had evidently supplied them with the feathers that they had fastened to their tails to make them look less ratlike. But one thing they didn’t find was the Ig-normus.

  “It’s pretty queer,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “If he’s so terrifying and ferocious, my land!—you’d think he’d come out and fight to protect his property.”

  “It’s kind of funny, when you come to think of it,” said Mrs. Wogus, “that although we’ve heard of him and been afraid of him for years, there isn’t one of us that knows of an animal that has ever seen him.”

  “That’s why I used to think there wasn’t any such animal,” said Freddy. “I just thought it was a kind of legend that had been built up, and that he wasn’t real at all. But you know Jinx and I really did see him the other night, when he came floating down out of the trees at us like a great white flying squirrel with long horns. Ugh! That was pretty awful.”

  “Let’s get Simon out and ask him some questions,” said Jinx, and he went over and rapped on the washtub cover. “Hey, you in there! We’re going to lift the lid a little, and we want Simon to come out.”

  So they lifted the lid a little, and a rat came out. Only it wasn’t Simon; it was Ezra.

  “We want Simon,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Go back in there and send your father out.”

  Ezra snickered. “Father isn’t there. You thought you were awful smart, didn’t you? You thought you’d captured all of us. But you didn’t capture father.”

  “Where is he?” asked Freddy.

  “He and the Ignormus went for a walk this morning before you got here,” said the rat. “I expect them back any time now. And oh boy! what the Ignormus will do to this gang!”

  Some of the animals looked a little nervous at this, but Mrs. Wiggins said: “I think Simon is in there, and if he doesn’t come out, I’m going to send Cecil in to look for him.”