There was a good deal of squeaking inside the tub when the rats heard this remark, and even Ezra looked rather scared. “Honest, he isn’t there,” he said. “You just put the lid up and look; I’ll make the boys promise not to jump out. But don’t send Cecil in.”
“It’s too bad for you,” said the cow, “but you’ve told too many lies in the past for me to believe you now. Cecil! Where’s Cecil?”
The porcupine came up and saluted. “Here, General.”
“Go in that tub and see if Simon’s there.”
“Yes, General.” And as the cow lifted the tub cover with one horn, Cecil climbed up and slipped in.
There were a lot of rats in that tub, but they couldn’t bite Cecil without getting their noses full of quills. And indeed the more of them there were, the worse it was for them, because it was harder to keep out of the porcupine’s way. Cecil looked around thoroughly, and as he wasn’t particularly careful to keep from bumping into the prisoners, there was a good deal of shrieking and squeaking before he climbed out again to report that indeed, Simon wasn’t there.
The animals were pretty disappointed that they hadn’t captured Simon, for he was the ringleader of the whole rat gang. But after all, there wasn’t much he could do alone, and it certainly didn’t look as if the Ignormus was going to put in an appearance. So leaving Robert to guard the prisoners, Mrs. Wiggins ordered the army outside, and when they were drawn up in an orderly line before the house, she came to the front door and addressed them.
“Soldiers,” she said, “you have fought valiantly and the day is ours.”
At this there was prolonged cheering, and Hank, forgetting all about his rheumatism, pranced three times up and down in front of the ranks, waving the flag.
“I am proud,” Mrs. Wiggins went on, “to be the general of such an army. It is true that our two chief enemies have escaped us. But we have captured their stronghold; the flag of the F.A.R. now waves over the Grimby house—or will, if Hank will stop prancing-around with it and will stick it up on the porch. As for the Ignormus, whatever or wherever he is, I do not think we need to fear him any longer. If he is anywhere in the Big Woods, he heard the Bean legions storming his house, and he plainly did not dare to show himself and to fight.
“However, he may still be lurking in the neighborhood. He and Simon may even now be plotting new crimes. I propose therefore that we take all the stuff here in the house that was stolen from the bank and from Mr. Bean, back down to the farm. We will also take the prisoners and lock them up until we decide what to do with them. Then we will leave a garrison in this house, to defend it if the Ignormus comes back. And I will now call for volunteers to form the garrison.”
There wasn’t an animal in that army who, twenty-four hours earlier, would have volunteered to spend a night in the Grimby house. But the victory over the rats, and the fact that the Ignormus had apparently been afraid to fight, had made them feel very brave. They stepped forward as one animal.
“Land sakes, you can’t all stay,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Guess I’ll have to choose. Well, I’ll take Peter, because he’s a woods animal and very strong, and the two cats, because they can see in the dark, and Charles, because he’s licked a rat in fair fight, and Freddy, just in case there’s something to detect. That ought to be enough of a garrison. And now, army, get to work and carry the stolen stuff down to the barnyard.”
It took the better part of the afternoon to get all the vegetables and oats and nuts and other food supplies down through the woods, and it was nearly dusk when Jinx got back to the Grimby house with a ball of stout twine with which he intended to rope the prisoners together. Jinx was good at tying knots, and as the rats were released one by one from the tub, he tied a loop of cord around each one’s middle. Then, with Minx to help him, he started them on the march, like a chain gang, down through the woods.
Freddy was a little doubtful about it. “They can gnaw through those cords and get away, Jinx,” he said. “You’d better watch ’em closely.”
Jinx laughed. “They’ll try it, all right,” he said. “Come along, and I’ll show you what will happen.”
Pretty soon one of the rats began to sneeze. He sneezed and sneezed, and then another rat began. In a few minutes half the line of prisoners was rolling on the ground, sneezing and coughing and gasping.
“You see?” said Jinx. “That’s what happens when they try to gnaw themselves free. I got some red pepper from Mrs. Bean and rubbed it into the whole ball of cord. Come on, boys,” he said to the rats. “Get up, and we’ll go down to the brook and you can cool your mouths off. Then, if you feel like it, you can try gnawing again.”
But the rats had had enough. Except for an occasional sneeze, none of them said anything as they were marched down to the barn and shut up in the box stall, with Cecil left to guard them.
“If any of these lads try anything funny, Cecil,” said Jinx, “you just give ’em a little pat with your tail.” And the porcupine said he would.
“I guess we’ll all have a nice quiet night,” he added.
Chapter 16
Freddy had decided that he wouldn’t do anything about returning the gun and all the stolen vegetables until next morning. Then he would bring everything out into the barnyard, along with the prisoners, and when Mr. Bean came out after breakfast he would see them and would realize that the rats were the robbers and that Freddy and the other animals had captured them. In that way it wouldn’t be necessary to make Mr. Bean feel uncomfortable by saying anything.
But in the meantime Freddy didn’t want to be seen around the barnyard. So on the last trip when the rats were taken down, he only went as far as the duck pond, and he waited there for Peter and Charles and the two cats, with whom he was to go back and garrison the Grimby house.
Freddy was pretty pleased with himself. He had found the robbers and recovered the stolen property. It had been a hard case, but he had solved it. “I suppose in my alphabet book, P would stand for pig,” he said to himself, and he began making up sentences, all of the words of which began with P. Proud pigs prefer perilous performances. Powerful pig punishes prisoners publicly. Prominent pig proves prowess. “I wish I could use some other letters,” he thought. “I can’t seem to get everything I want into it.” So then he began to make up the verses.
“No better detective than Freddy
Can be found in the State of New York;
Always calm, always cool, always ready,
Though a pig, he’s by no means just pork.
“Of animals he is the smartest,
Of pigs he’s the brightest by far;
At following clues he’s an artist,
At tracking down crime he’s a star.”
Freddy had supposed that he was all alone by the duck pond, and he was reciting the verses out loud as he made them up. But he had got this far when he was interrupted by a hoot of laughter, and a deep voice said: “I suppose if nobody else will say those things to you, pig, you have to say them to yourself.”
Freddy looked up. It was nearly dark, but in a tree that overhung the pond he could see the shape of a big bird, and he knew it was Old Whibley, the owl. “Oh, it’s—it’s you,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “Well, I was just sort of—you know—making up anything that came into my head.”
Old Whibley didn’t say anything.
“Well, what’s the matter with that?” demanded Freddy after a minute. “No harm in that, is there?”
“None at all,” said the owl. “Who said there was?”
“Well, I thought that you—sort of, well, thought that I—” Freddy stopped, and Old Whibley didn’t say anything.
“Oh, gosh,” Freddy burst out; “if you’re just sitting there thinking I’m vain and conceited, why don’t you say so?”
“Why should I?” said the owl. “You know it. I know it. Everybody knows it. No point sitting round and repeating things everybody knows.”
“Well,” said the pig doubtfully, “maybe I’m a little v
ain. But that verse, you understand—it was just a sort of joke. Something I was making up as a joke with myself.”
“Hoo-o, hum,” yawned Old Whibley.
“But don’t you think I’m a good detective?” asked Freddy.
“Good enough,” said the owl. “Anyway, if you’re satisfied, who am I to complain?”
“Goodness,” said Freddy. “I must say it’s hard enough to get anything out of you. I should think you could give an opinion when you’re asked for it.”
“You haven’t been asking for my opinion,” said the owl. “You’ve been trying to get me to say how grand and wonderful you are. I don’t think you’re so grand. Not when you sit around singing songs of praise to yourself, and leaving your work half done.”
“I don’t see how you can say that,” said Freddy. “We captured the robbers and got back all the stolen goods.”
“You haven’t captured the head robber, Simon. And it seems to me there was some big boast of yours how you were going to capture the Ignormus and nail his hide to the barn door. I was up past the barn a minute ago, and there wasn’t any hide there then.”
There was one nice thing about Freddy: he was always willing to acknowledge it when he was wrong. At least he was willing to after a while. Usually there had to be an argument first.
But now there wasn’t anything to argue about. “Well,” he said; “well—maybe you’re right. I guess I was so pleased at getting all the things back, and specially the gun, that I sort of forgot about the rest of it.” He thought a minute. “Yes, you’re right. My job isn’t finished. I talked pretty big, didn’t I? Well, it’s up to me. I guess I won’t wait for the rest of the garrison. I’ll go up myself, and if I can find the Ignormus, I’ll have it out with him.”
He waited a minute, then as Old Whibley didn’t say anything, he looked up into the tree. But the owl wasn’t there.
“Well, I’ll be darned!” said Freddy. “He might have given me a little praise for that. After all, I’m risking my life.” He hesitated a minute. He didn’t hear anything to show that his friends were coming. “I suppose that owl is around here, watching, somewhere. I suppose I’ll have to go now.” And he started slowly up through the woods.
It was hard going in the dark, and when he got to the road Freddy sat down to rest. “Whew!” he said out loud. “Guess I’ll have to rest a minute.” He said this because he thought Old Whibley might still be watching him, and he didn’t want the owl to think he was afraid. But no sound came from the tall trees on either side of the road, and after resting a minute that was long enough to have several hundred seconds in it, he got up and said in a bold, loud voice: “Well, now for the Ignormus!”
He was standing just about where he and Jinx had been when that terrifying white shape had plunged down towards them from the treetops, and as he started across the road towards the darkness of the Big Woods he glanced fearfully up—and gave a squeal of sheer terror. For there it was again, floating down upon him: a great white body as big as Mrs. Wiggins and Mrs. Wurzburger and Mrs. Wogus rolled into one, with a huge horned head that waggled menacingly.
Freddy said afterward that his squeal was a squeal of defiance, and he also said that he stood his ground, prepared to do or die—willing—nay, eager—to have it out with this monster who for so many years had terrorized the countryside. I think the real reason he didn’t run was that he was too scared. He wanted to get away from that place as quickly as possible. But his legs either didn’t understand what he wanted, or else they were too scared themselves to hold him up. For they collapsed under him, and the great white creature floated down and enveloped him.
I don’t think Freddy really fainted away, but it was certainly several seconds before he realized that he was struggling to get out from under what seemed to be heavy folds of cloth. He kicked and scrabbled in a panic, and at last wrestled his way out into the open air, and then turned to see what he had been wrestling with. It was a sheet—plainly one of the sheets that had been stolen from Mrs. Bean’s clothesline. In each knotted corner of the sheet was a stone, and to one end of it had been fastened the tail of one of Mr. Bean’s Sunday shirts.
“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed the pig. “The Ignormus! This is the Ignormus! They carried it up into the treetops and let it float down on us like a parachute. And the shirt was the head, with the arms for horns. Well, what do you know about that for a trick!”
He became aware, then, of a terrified squeaking that had been going on for some time up in the tree from which the Ignormus had been launched upon him. And as he looked up, Old Whibley came soaring down on his silent wings and lit on a bough just over his head. He seemed to have something in his powerful beak,—something that squeaked and wriggled and twisted in a vain effort to escape, and as Freddy looked, the owl shifted the writhing animal to one claw and said: “Thought I’d come along to see how you made out. Well, you caught your Ignormus.”
“Who’s that you’ve got there?” Freddy asked. “Looks like Simon.”
“Who’s that you’ve got there?” Freddy asked.
“Probably is,” said Old Whibley. “Means nothing to me. One rat’s the same as any other rat, far as I’m concerned. None of ’em any good. Saw him drop that sheet out of a tree so I grabbed him.”
“You mean he was up in the tree? I never knew rats could climb trees.”
“They can’t climb smooth trees. But with all the little branches on these spruce trees, it’s easy enough. You want him?”
“I want to ask him some questions,” said Freddy.
“I won’t answer,” squeaked Simon. “I won’t say a word. And you wait till the Ignormus hears about this; you just wait—”
“Oh, keep still about your old Ignormus,” interrupted Freddy. “There never was any Ignormus, and you know it as well as I do.”
A twig snapped, and a moment later Peter and the two cats and Charles came out into the road
“Oh, there you are, Freddy,” said Jinx. “We were looking for you. What on earth’s this?” And he walked over to the sheet.
“Ha!” exclaimed Freddy. “You know what that is? It’s the Ignormus’s hide, that’s what it is. And I’m going to take it down and nail it to the barn door, as I said I would.”
“I can’t see much of anything in the dark here,” said Peter, “but it looks to me like an old sheet.”
So Freddy explained. “It was a trick of the rats’,” he said. “They got it up in the tree somehow and then when they wanted the Ignormus to appear, they dropped it, and these stones in the corners made it float down like a parachute.”
“Well, what do you know!” said Jinx. “You know, Freddy, that time before when it dropped down on us, I thought there was something funny about it. That’s why I wasn’t as scared as you were—”
“Weren’t scared, eh, cat?” interrupted Old Whibley. “Listen, I was over on the Flats that night, and I heard you yell, way over there. If there was ever a scareder cat I never heard him.”
Jinx peered up into the branches overhead. “Oh, is that you, Whibley? Didn’t see you. Well, of course I yelled. I was—well, startled. But scared! Pooh! I hope I don’t scare that easy.”
“You can give up that hope right now,” replied the owl. “I never knew an easier scared cat. Remember that night when the mouse jumped out at you in Witherspoon’s barn? You did the two miles home in—”
“Please, please,” interrupted Jinx. “Let’s not go into past history. After all, if this really is the Ignormus, it’s pretty big news.”
“When I was in South Africa,” said Minx, “there was an elephant who had learned to fly. He’d been taking flying lessons from an ostrich, and—”
“Ostriches can’t fly,” said Jinx. “How could your elephant learn to fly by taking lessons from somebody that can’t fly?”
“This ostrich could fly,” said Minx. “Because he had taken lessons from an eagle. And so the elephant learned how, and—”
“Listen, sis,” interrupted Jinx impati
ently; “just forget about this elephant friend of yours, will you? We want to find out about this Ignormus.”
“But I want to tell you about him,” insisted Minx. “His name was—”
“Sure, ’twas Murphy, was it not?” said Freddy, suddenly coming close to Minx and speaking with the terrible Irish accent he had used when he had stopped her telling stories before. “Indeed and I remimber him well.”
“No, it was not,” said Minx crossly. “And if you’re going to do that again, I won’t tell you about him.”
“Sure an’ all, since I know all about him, why should you?” said Freddy. And Minx walked away, switching her tail angrily.
“I was just trying to get Simon to tell us a few things when you came, Jinx—” said Freddy. “But he didn’t seem to want to. Suppose you could make him? You know, by tickling him as you did last time?”
“Sure, hand him over to me, Whibley,” said the cat. “You know, I just love tickling that rat. It’s the funny noises he makes. It’s sort of like that old Mr. Mackintosh, in Centerboro, when he plays on the bagpipes. Come here, rat; let’s see if I can’t get a better tune out of you than I did last time.”
The owl dropped the rat to the ground, and the cat pounced on him. “What’ll it be, Simon?” he said. “Something patriotic?”
“I’ll talk,” said the rat sullenly. “If you just won’t tickle me. I can’t stand that.”
So the others gathered around, and Simon told them how when he and his family had been driven from the farm, they had wandered about, leading a sort of gipsy life, stealing food from farmers along the road, and sleeping in barns and deserted houses. But it was a dangerous life, for no other animals trust rats, and dogs and cats chased them whenever they saw them. So they were thinking about some place where they could settle down in safety when Simon thought of the Grimby house. Of course they had all heard about the Ignormus, and some of them were afraid, but Simon had several times been obliged to take refuge in the Big Woods when chased by the Bean dogs, and he had seen nothing of any such monster. He didn’t believe in him. “We’ll go back,” he had said, “and explore the Big Woods. If we find there isn’t any Ignormus there—and I’m pretty sure there isn’t—we’ll settle down in the old Grimby house. Nobody will molest us there, or even know we’re there, and we can raid the Bean farm as much as we want to, and nobody will ever know, because no animal dares to enter the Big Woods.”
Freddy and the Ignormus Page 13