“You mean that Uncle Wesley is in trade?” exclaimed Alice.
“Not much of a trade for me,” said the squirrel. “All those good bread crusts I brought him.”
“Bread crusts, sister,” said Emma. “You remember how fond he always was of bread crusts, and Mrs. Bean used to save them for him, because Mr. Bean wouldn’t eat the crust of store bread?”
“Yes, it must be he,” said Alice. “Will you take us to him, sir?”
“You come with me,” said the squirrel, looking very determined. “Because I’m going to pick a bone with Wesley, and the only thing I haven’t decided is which bone it’ll be. Except it won’t be one of mine.”
“You’d better be careful,” said Emma. “Uncle Wesley won’t stand any nonsense. He simply doesn’t know the meaning of fear.”
“He will before suppertime,” said the squirrel, and he started off along the wall.
“Just a minute,” said Alice. “If this really is our Uncle Wesley—and it certainly sounds like him—I am going to give you a word of advice, young man. If you have a complaint, I’m sure he’ll listen to it. He’s very fair. But don’t say anything to provoke his anger. He is really terrible when he’s angry.”
“He’s pretty terrible any way you look at him,” said the squirrel with a grin. “Well, come on if you want to.”
The ducks shook their heads doubtfully at the squirrel’s temerity, but they followed him up the road a quarter of a mile, then through a fence and across two fields to a little stream that ran down into a patch of woods. And on the way he told them about the hermit duck named Wesley, who lived all alone in these woods, which were on the Hiram Pratt farm. Even the squirrels, who always know everything that is going on, didn’t know where he came from or why he lived alone. “I found out he liked bread crusts, so every now and then I take him down some and trade them for nuts he’s picked up in the woods. But I’ve got to quit it. Six out of the last dozen rotten! That’s too much of a good thing.” He stopped on the bank of the stream at the edge of the woods. “Well, here we are. Maybe you’d better call him, one of you.”
“Afraid?” asked Alice contemptuously.
“Afraid he won’t come out if he knows I’m here—sure,” said the squirrel.
“He’ll come out all right, if he’s our uncle,” said Alice. And as the ducks refused to call him, the squirrel said oh, very well, he’d try it.
“We’ll hide,” said Alice. “Because we know Uncle Wesley would always be polite in front of ladies, and we don’t specially want him to be polite to you—not after the things you’ve said about him.”
“Oh, Wesley! Where are you, old chap?” called the squirrel.
Alice nudged her sister happily. “What a surprise he’ll get if he says anything insulting to Uncle Wesley!”
“I’m sort of sorry for that poor squirrel,” said Emma. “He doesn’t know.”
There was a rustling in the bushes, and in a minute a pompous little white duck waddled out. It was Uncle Wesley all right.
“Well, well, Rudy; how are you today?” he said. “More bread crusts to trade? I’m sorry we’re all out of hickory nuts, but we have some very nice acorns this morning.”
“Acorns!” shouted the squirrel. “Nice rotten acorns, and dried up hickory nuts—that’s the kind of stuff you’ve been trading me. Six rotten in the last dozen, and you’ll make ’em good, and right now, or you’ve quacked your last quack.”
“Now, now—easy, young man,” said Uncle Wesley, backing away. “Certainly I’ll make good anything that is not wholly satisfactory. No cause for all this uproar.”
“All right, roll ’em out!” demanded the squirrel. “Six of ’em, and make it snappy, you robber.”
“All right, roll ’em out!”
“Yes, yes; don’t be impatient,” quacked Uncle Wesley. “There’ll be a little delay, I’m afraid. We haven’t at the moment any really first class nuts in stock, but if you can come back in two days—”
Alice and Emma stared at each other in consternation. “But that can’t be our Uncle Wesley!” said Emma. “Why he wouldn’t let a lion talk to him like that!”
The argument went on, with the squirrel talking louder and louder, and Uncle Wesley backing farther and farther away, until at last the squirrel suddenly lost all control of himself, and leaping at the duck, gave him a push that sent him fluttering and protesting over the bank into the water.
“Come, come—this is too much!” said Alice and Emma, and they rushed out from their hiding place and flew at the squirrel, striking him with their wings and bills until they had driven him over the bank after their uncle. Then they stood over him menacingly as he crawled out, dripping and gasping, while Uncle Wesley watched prudently from the other side of the stream.
“You’d better go home, since you don’t seem to know how to act like a gentleman,” said Alice severely.
“I want those nuts,” replied the squirrel, beginning to cry.
“Our Uncle Wesley is not a robber,” said Emma. “He will give you the nuts if he owes them to you. Uncle Wesley,” she called, “can’t you settle this matter?”
“Why, my dear nieces!” exclaimed the duck. “What a pleasure! And what a surprise! Of course, of course. One moment.” And he disappeared.
A few minutes later he returned with six nuts wrapped in a large leaf, and when the squirrel had gone off home with them, still sniffling, he said:
“Well, well, my dears; how on earth did you find me? And what brings you here?”
“We’ll tell you about that later,” said Alice. “Right now, we’d like you to start back home with us. We’ve missed you, Uncle Wesley. The pond hasn’t seemed the same since you went away. Why did you stay here all these years?”
“Dear, dear; the old pond!” said Uncle Wesley sentimentally. “Well, it’s a long story. I should like to tell it to you. Can you stay a few days with me in my modest forest retreat?”
“We would love to,” said Alice, “but we really have to leave very soon.”
“Well, do sit down for a little while,” said Uncle Wesley. “There is a little backwater in the brook here that is quite cool and comfortable. I hope you won’t rush right off again. Dear me,” he said, shaking his head, “I hope that squirrel’s impudence didn’t upset you. Perhaps I was too patient with his nonsense. I should have thrown him into the brook at once, instead of listening to him until he became violent. But I never like to use force against smaller animals.”
“But—but we were the ones that threw him in the brook, Uncle Wesley,” said Emma.
“Ah, yes; so you were, my dear.” He shook his head again. “Tut, tut; I’m afraid you rather forgot yourselves there. I don’t like to scold you the very first thing after such a long separation, but it was hardly ladylike, was it? I do hope that in my absence you haven’t forgotten your manners.—However, let us say no more about it now. How are you both?”
The sisters looked at each other. This was the Uncle Wesley that they knew and admired. But why had he acted in such a cowardly way with the squirrel? They were pretty puzzled. But they said that they were well, and after giving him the news of the farm, and telling him about their trip, they again repeated their wish that he should go back home with them. “We had an idea,” said Alice, “that when you left us so suddenly, you went unwillingly. You said nothing to us; one morning you were just gone. We were dreadfully worried.”
“I knew that you must be,” said Uncle Wesley. “But there was no way to let you know. You see, I had gone out for my morning walk when I was attacked by an eagle. No doubt he mistook me for some simple domestic fowl who could offer no resistance.” Uncle Wesley laughed. “How surprised that eagle was when he found out who he had really tackled! I fancy I put up rather more of a fight than he expected. Of course, his superior weight and strength were in his favor, but courage and skill will always win in the end, and it was no different in this case. I beat him severely, and at last he gave in and flew off screaming. But he ha
d carried me up into the air, and the fight went on for a good many miles, so that when I came to earth I was in entirely strange country. Well, there was no question of trying to get home, for I had sprained my ankle in landing. So in looking around for a place to stay, I found this delightful spot. I quite fell in love with it. So much pleasanter than the Bean farm, with all those great animals tramping around and getting in the way! Don’t you agree?”
“Why, it’s very pleasant,” said Emma. “But do you mean that you really didn’t want to come back home?”
“Want to? Of course I wanted to. But you know how it is. You stay on from day to day, always saying: ‘Well, tomorrow I’ll start home.’ But I would hardly expect you to understand, my dears. You have led such a sheltered and protected life; the very thought of travel and adventure is terrifying to you. But in me there is a strong strain of the adventurer, the gypsy. Ah, adventure, the open road, the thrill of danger—!”
“This doesn’t seem very adventurous to me,” said Alice flatly. “Living in a safe little hideout in the woods.”
“And I guess we haven’t been so terrified as you think,” said Emma. “We thought you’d be very pleased, Uncle Wesley, at our taking this trip.”
“Come, come, my dears,” said the duck severely. “You mustn’t argue with your old uncle. I’m afraid that in my long absence you have allowed yourselves to become a little unladylike. But there; we will soon correct that. For you must give up this nonsense about going back to the Bean farm, which I always disliked. You will from now on live here with me.”
Alice took a deep breath and let it out again without saying anything; then she took another, and this time she said: “We want you to go home with us.”
“Sister!” exclaimed Emma in dismay, and Uncle Wesley puffed out his chest and pulled in his chin and stared at her. But for the first time in her life Alice stared back. “See here, Uncle Wesley,” she said; “maybe we have changed since you went away, but I can tell you we’ve changed more in the past ten minutes than in all the rest of the time. But never mind that now. We have always admired you intensely, and have done always what we thought would please you. You told us that we were poor weak females whom it was your duty to guard from danger and unpleasantness. You, on the other hand, you said, were bold and adventurous by nature. Well, we would like to continue to think that you are. We’d like to think that it was your example that made us go on this balloon trip. But we can’t think so if you refuse an adventure that two poor weak females aren’t afraid of. Do you agree, sister?”
Emma looked doubtfully at her uncle. “Oh, forgive me, Uncle Wesley, but I—I’m afraid I do.”
Uncle Wesley stared at them a moment, then turned his back, and bowing his head: “That I should live to see the day,” he said mournfully, “when my own nieces, whom I have nurtured in every luxury—”
“Boloney!” said a loud voice in the treetops above them, and they looked up to see the squirrel staring down at them.
“Give it to him, girls,” said the squirrel. “I know his kind. Regular tyrant around the house with his women folks, but as meek as Moses out around town. Made you toe the mark, I bet. Told you he was as brave as a lion. But did you ever see him being brave? No, I guess not. Why a hoptoad could push him around.”
“You—you scalawag!” shouted Uncle Wesley furiously. “You—how dare you! Comedown from there. I’ll show you who’s boss around here.”
“O.K., old hero,” said the squirrel. “I’ll be right down.”
“Oh, go away, you,” said Alice. “We don’t want you here.”
“O.K., lady,” said the squirrel. “You’re the one that’s boss. And don’t forget it.—Hey, look at old Up-and-at-’em,” he said, throwing a nut at Uncle Wesley, who was edging towards the brook. Then with a flirt of his tail he jumped into the next tree and vanished.
“An impossible person,” said Uncle Wesley. “I find it is always best not to pay any attention to vulgar people. They—”
“Are you ready to go with us?” interrupted Alice.
Uncle Wesley looked sharply from Alice to Emma, and back again. Then he pulled himself together and gave what he hoped was a hearty laugh. “You must let your uncle have his little joke,” he said. “Nothing—nothing in the world could keep me from sharing this adventure with you. I perhaps merely wanted to be quite sure that, after all these years, you really wanted your old uncle back.” He hesitated, but neither of them said anything. “Well, well,” he went on briskly, “what are we waiting for? No hanging back, no weak flinching from the task before us. And your old uncle, whom I’m afraid you were a bit doubtful of, will show you how an adventure should be met!”
Chapter 13
Uncle Wesley was rather quiet on the first part of the return journey, but gradually he picked up spirit, and by the time they reached the wood road he was lecturing them in quite the old style. And Alice and Emma were saying: “Yes, Uncle Wesley,” and “No, Uncle Wesley,” just as they had used to. But they weren’t feeling the same way about Uncle Wesley as they had used to. For they knew now that he was not the hero he had pretended to be.
It was quite a blow to them. But they had been told so often, and had it so drilled into them, that they were poor weak timid creatures, that they still kept on acting that way. And so Uncle Wesley laid down the law, and they said: “Yes, Uncle Wesley,” and “You are always so right, Uncle Wesley.” But they weren’t happy about it, as they had used to be.
By and by they got back to the balloon, and Mr. Webb came galloping down his ladder to greet Uncle Wesley, and hear about their trip, and tell them that Freddy hadn’t come back yet. Uncle Wesley hadn’t laid down the law quite so much during the last quarter mile, which was hard going and made him puff, but when he got his breath back, he started in again. He talked about travel. Travel, he said, was very broadening, and a valuable experience for those who, like Alice and Emma, had always lived sheltered lives. But such rough, and even dangerous travel was not the sort of thing they should attempt. And as for ballooning—well, he had no words, he said, to express his opinion of how vulgar and unladylike it was. And then he used about ten thousand words expressing it. It was quite like old times.
As they could not get back into the balloon basket, they had to wait on the ground. Mr. Webb listened for a while, and then he gave an angry snort and went back up the ladder. Uncle Wesley didn’t hear the snort, of course.
Mr. Webb snorted several times more after he got back to where Mrs. Webb was sitting, and at last she said: “Well, what is it?”
“What is what?” asked Mr. Webb.
“You snorted just the way Mr. Bean does when he’s reading the newspaper and wants Mrs. Bean to ask him what he’s disgusted about.”
“I’m disgusted about that Wesley,” said Mr. Webb. “How on earth those ducks ever stood him all those years! And now they try to get him back!”
“Well, after all he’s their uncle. There’s such a thing as family feeling, father.”
“Yes, and there’s such a thing as not knowing when you’re well off.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Webb, “I daresay you’re right. If you got all swelled up like Wesley, and started telling me everything I did was wrong, I’d just quietly drop you overboard some night when we were sailing along in the balloon.” She laughed comfortably. She had a laugh a good deal like Mrs. Bean’s, only, of course, smaller. “And I wouldn’t go looking for you afterward,” she added. “But if you ask me, Alice and Emma are going to find out before long that they had a pretty good time while their uncle was away, and from that to wishing he was gone again isn’t very far. And after all—well, I don’t think Uncle Wesley is going to have as much fun as he used to.”
Uncle Wesley was having plenty of fun now, though. He had a lot of back lecturing to make up, and the afternoon faded into evening, and the twilight waned, and the dark came, and still his voice went on. But just as it got so dark that Alice and Emma couldn’t see him any more, there came a sudden crashin
g of branches from the direction of the wood road. And Uncle Wesley stopped.
The crashing grew louder.
“Mercy, what can that be?” said Alice. “It sounds like a tank going through the woods, and it’s coming this way too. We must do something, sister.”
“What can we do?” said Emma. “Oh, Alice, I’m so frightened! Where’s Uncle Wesley? He’ll protect us. Won’t you, uncle?”
There was no answer.
“Uncle Wesley!” they both called.
And Uncle Wesley’s voice, shaking with terror, replied faintly: “Save yourselves, my dears. Your old uncle will p-protect your retreat.”
“But where are you?”
Uncle Wesley was under a log, but when they tried to seek shelter beside him, he pushed them out, protesting that there wasn’t room for more than one. “Save yourselves,” he repeated. “Your legs are younger than mine; you’ll get away.”
The crashing was very close now, and really terrifying, and then a lantern became visible, swaying high up among the trees, and behind it a white-turbaned figure, sitting cross-legged apparently upon nothing, and moving towards them ten feet up in the air.
“Oh!” exclaimed Emma weakly. “Oh! Uncle Wesley! I think I—I shall faint away!”
But Alice’s sharp eyes had seen the face beneath the turban. “Wait,” shesaid. “Don’t faint yet, Emma. It’s Freddy. He’s come back.”
And sure enough, Freddy it was, seated on Hannibal’s back, as the elephant held the lantern high in his trunk. And behind came Louise, the smaller elephant.
And sure enough, Freddy it was …
“Ha, ha!” said Uncle Wesley, coming out from under the log. “I knew it all the time! Wanted to see if you girls would really lose your heads in such a situation. And of course you did. Tut, tut, I’m afraid you’re not the stuff of which true adventurers are made.”
“Oh, hush up!” said Alice sharply, and Uncle Wesley was so amazed at this sudden revolt against his authority, that he did hush up for nearly two minutes.
Freddy and the Perilous Adventure Page 9