Mr. Golcher frowned and fingered the bills uneasily. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess that’s so. You could have kept it—I suppose you know that? Nobody knew about the spider. Referee didn’t see him, and what the referee don’t see, don’t count. Yeah.” He looked up quickly at Freddy, then down at the money in his hand. “Do you like being honest?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” said Freddy truthfully.
“Then why do you do it when you don’t have to?”
“I don’t know. I suppose maybe because Mr. Bean thinks I’m honest. I sort of want him to be right.”
“H’m,” said Mr. Golcher. “Nobody ever thought I was honest, I guess.”
“Why should they?” asked Leo drily.
Mr. Golcher didn’t answer him. “I suppose I might try it some time,” he said thoughtfully.
“You could try it now,” said Freddy. “With that two hundred dollars.”
“Now?” exclaimed Mr. Golcher. “Well, not now; not today. Golcher don’t feel the strength for it today. Some day you hunt up Golcher when he’s feeling good and strong, and then you try him with something small—say about ten cents, to begin with. Work him up gradual.” He slipped into the robe which Hannibal held for him.
Mr. Boomschmidt had stepped to the edge of the platform and was telling the crowd what had happened. There was some grumbling among them when they learned that Mr. Golcher had taken the purse, but Mr. Boomschmidt knew how to handle an audience, and he got them into a good temper by explaining that although the rules of fair play made it necessary for Mr. Golcher to take the money, neither of the contestants had won, since it was really Mr. Webb who had thrown Mr. Golcher the second time.
“The spider ought to get the money, then,” shouted one man.
“Good gracious, what would a spider do with a hundred dollars?” said Mr. Boomschmidt.
“He could buy a lot of flies with it,” said the man, and the crowd laughed and began to break up.
“Well, come on, pig,” said Leo, with a glance at Mr. Golcher, who had drawn a large wallet from the pocket of his gown and was stuffing the money into it. The balloonist looked angry and uncomfortable.
“What’s the matter, Golcher?” asked Leo with a grin. “Did your right hand gyp your left hand out of part of the cash?”
“Oh, mind your business,” said Mr. Golcher sullenly.
“Hey, what are you so cross about?” retorted the lion. “You won the bout and collected the money. You ought to be pleased.”
“I’m cross at him, if you must know,” said Mr. Golcher, pointing at Freddy.
“Well, for goodness’ sake!” said Freddy with some irritation, “I don’t know what call you’ve got to be cross at me. I gave up the money because—”
“That’s just it!” interrupted Mr. Golcher. “I won the bout, didn’t I? But everybody is praising you for losing it.”
“Rats!” said Leo disgustedly. “They’re praising him because he played fair, even though you hadn’t played fair with him.”
Mr. Golcher put his hands on his knees and bent down and scowled angrily into Freddy’s face. “You think you’re better than I am,” he said furiously. “They all think you’re better than I am. And Golcher can’t stand it!” he shouted suddenly. He jumped up and, fumbling in his wallet, drew out a packet of bills and slammed them down at Freddy’s feet. “Golcher ain’t going to have anybody saying a pig is better than him!”
Freddy picked up the bills. “Two hundred,” he said. “This is Mr. Bean’s money. Why, Mr. Golcher—”
“Take it,” interrupted Mr. Golcher, “and get out before I change my mind. Because I’m going to change it. I can feel it changing now. It’s saying to me: ‘Golcher, you’re being a fool. Do you want to give two hundred dollars just so folks will say you’re as good as a pig?’ I ain’t got the strength to stand up against that kind of an argument. Go on! What are you waiting for?”
“Well, dye my hair!” said Leo. “If the guy wants to be honest, far be it from us to stop him. Grab your money, pig, and run.”
Chapter 16
That evening after the show, Mr. Boomschmidt gave a large party for the Bean animals, and the next morning he drove them home himself in his own private car. This car was a large sedan, and was the only vehicle connected with the circus which was not painted red and gold, and decorated with pictures and signs. “Sometimes,” Mr. Boomschmidt said, “I like to get away from the circus for a while, but, my goodness, if I had signs all over this car, everybody’d think I was a parade and I wouldn’t get any peace and quiet. This way, I can drive around the country, and nobody knows who I am.”
Freddy thought that Mr. Boomschmidt, with his silk hat and bright plaid suit, would be known anywhere, even if on the center of each door panel of the car there hadn’t been the name: Boomschmidt, in red Gothic lettering, and tastefully surmounted with a small gilt crown. But of course he didn’t say so.
Mr. Boomschmidt took them for a short drive before starting for the farm, and as they were passing through the village of South Pharisee, Freddy saw a little boy sitting disconsolately on the front steps of a house. He was Jimmy Wiggs, the boy that Freddy had fallen on at the wrestling match. So Mr. Boomschmidt stopped the car and Freddy got out.
The boy jumped up. “You’re Freddy. Did you win the bout?”
“No,” said Freddy. “Mr. Golcher won. I’m sorry I fell on you. Are you all right again?”
“Oh, sure. It didn’t really hurt me. I guess it was kind of an honor, Mr. Freddy, to be fallen on by you.”
“Well, I know some people that wouldn’t feel that way about it,” said the pig. “But who’s that?” he asked, as the heads of several larger boys appeared over the hedge that separated the lawn from the yard next door, and began sticking out their tongues at Freddy, and grunting, and calling: “Oink, oink!” in disgusting voices.
“Oh, that’s Jack, my older brother, and his gang. They haven’t got any manners. I guess—well maybe you better go, Mr. Freddy.”
Mr. Boomschmidt had got out of the car and he went towards the intruders. “My gracious, what’s the matter, you boys?” he asked. “Are you sick or something? Shall I call a doctor?”
“Nah,” said Jack. And he went on calling: “Oink, oink! Jimmy’s talking to a pig. Is that part of your big circus, Jimmy?”
“What’s this about a circus?” asked Freddy.
Jimmy explained that he and his friends, having seen the Boomschmidt show yesterday, had decided to have a circus of their own in the back yard. They had rounded up some neighborhood dogs and cats, and a chicken or two, and had put signs on them: “Most ferocious lion in captivity,” and so on. They had been having a lot of fun getting the show ready, but then Jack and his gang had found out about it, and had begun to make fun of them. And that wasn’t the worst of it. Jack had organized what he called the “Lion Hunters’ Club,” and he said that when the circus opened, he was going to unfasten the cages and let all the animals out, and then the lion hunters were going to have a big lion hunt all over the neighborhood.
“I don’t care so much about his breaking up our circus,” said Jimmy, “but Jack isn’t very good to animals, and I’m afraid maybe Pete—he’s my dog—and Mary Hughes’ kitten, and some of the other pets will get hurt.”
Freddy looked at Mr. Boomschmidt, and Mr. Boomschmidt looked at Freddy, and then Freddy said: “Let’s see your circus grounds.”
So Jimmy took them around into the back yard. There were a couple of old chicken coops, and a shed, and half a dozen crates. A dog was tied in each of the chicken coops, and two of the crates had kittens in them. Jimmy explained that the rest of the animals hadn’t arrived yet. There were three of Jimmy’s friends sitting in the shed doorway.
“H’m,” said Freddy. “Well, Jimmy, I don’t know just what we can do to help make your circus a success, but we’ll come see it anyway. What time does the show start?”
Jimmy said two o’clock.
“Well, you go right ahead with your
plans,” said Freddy. “We’ll be back.”
Jimmy cheered up at this and began to thank Freddy, and Mr. Boomschmidt walked over to the fence, above which the heads of Jack and his gang were visible, shouting: “Oink, oink!” derisively.
“My goodness, boys,” said Mr. Boomschmidt, “you’ve got it all wrong. Pigs don’t say ‘oink.’”
“Do too. Oink, oink!” yelled Jack.
“Dear me, I think you are the funniest people I ever saw,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Have you heard this pig here say ‘oink’? Of course you haven’t. The only persons who have said ‘oink’ around here are you and your friends. So if you are right in believing that pigs say ‘oink’, then you must be pigs.”
“Aw, you’re just trying to mix us up,” said Jack.
“Of course I am. But you’ll admit I don’t have to try very hard.” Suddenly he drew a dollar out of his pocket. “Do you like candy?”
They stared at him with their mouths open.
“Now, look,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “If you’ll promise to let Jimmy and his friends alone until they are ready to open their show, I’ll give you this dollar. Is it a deal?”
“Sure, sure,” said the boys, and began climbing over the fence. “But we’re going to have our lion hunt just the same,” said Jack.
“Oh, I don’t care about your lion hunt,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Only I hope you’ll be careful not to hurt any of the animals. Remember, they can’t protect themselves—”
“Oh, sure, we won’t hurt ’em; we’ll just chase ’em a little,” said Jack, and Mr. Boomschmidt nodded and handed over the dollar.
The boys ran off, oinking merrily, and Mr. Boomschmidt turned to Jimmy. “We have to go now, but we’ll be back at two. And don’t worry about your pets. We’ll see they don’t get hurt.”
At two o’clock when the Jimmy Wiggs Circus, Greatest Show on Earth, opened its doors, Mr. Boomschmidt and Freddy were among the first to pay the admission of six bottle caps and enter the grounds. The attendance was fairly large for that kind of a show, for at least ten other persons, most of them under twelve years of age, also crowded into the back yard. And Jimmy, as proprietor, guided them from cage to cage, explaining the habits and enlarging on the ferocity of their various occupants.
“We have here,” he said, stopping before the crate in which Pete, his fox terrier, was confined, “a genuine African Wampus, the only one in captivity. He has a head like an alligator and claws and a mane like a lion, and he lives exclusively on uncles and aunts. If any of you children have an uncle or aunt present, you’ll have to be pretty careful, for when he sees one, he gobbles ’em up, shoes and all.
“… a genuine African Wampus, the only one in captivity.”
“Now in this cage,” he continued, passing on to the first chicken coop, “we have—”
“Let’s go on to the next cage,” interrupted Freddy, pointing to a crate containing a kitten.
Jimmy had had his hand on the door of the chicken coop, which was closed, and he looked a little puzzled for a minute. Then he said: “All right,” and was about to go over to the kitten, when there was a scrabbling on the other side of the fence and a shout: “Here come the lion hunters!” And Jack and three of his gang climbed over into the back yard. One of them had a BB gun.
Jimmy confronted them. “I wish you’d go away, Jack. Can’t you let us—”
But Jack pushed him contemptuously aside. “So this is your old menagerie, is it? This is a hot show, this is! Well, where’s your lions?” He walked over to Pete’s crate. Pete was lying down, pretending to be asleep. Evidently he had some previous acquaintance with Jack.
“Here’s a lion, boys,” Jack shouted. “Get your guns ready, when I turn him loose—”
Mr. Boomschmidt touched Jack on the arm. “There’s a bigger lion in the chicken coop,” he said. “If you want a good lion skin to hang on the walls of your hunting lodge, he’s your animal.”
Jack looked at him suspiciously. Then he turned to Jimmy. “What you got in here?”
“Aw, Jack,” pleaded Jimmy, “that’s Mary’s kitten in there. Please don’t hunt her.”
“A lion, my men!” shouted Jack, pushing Jimmy back. “Ready?” He flung open the door of the chicken coop. And with a roar, Leo bounded out into the middle of the back yard.
With loud yelps of fear the lion hunters made for the fence. They reached the top in one bound—and stayed there. For two enormous grey shapes rose on the other side, and the long trunks of the elephants waved above their heads. Jack began to whimper.
Mr. Boomschmidt turned to the spectators, who had crowded back against the house. “Don’t be frightened,” he said. “We just want to give these boys a lesson in how to treat animals. You’re all perfectly safe.
“Now my brave lion hunters,” he said, “get down and get in that chicken coop. Get down!” he said sharply. “Or shall I have Leo, here, help you?”
So they got slowly down. They had to pass Leo to get into the coop, and the lion glared at each of them, licking his chops in an anticipatory way that made them tremble. And when Jack slunk past, Leo crouched and lashed his tail.
“Come, come, Leo,” murmured Mr. Boomschmidt, “don’t overdo it. We want to scare ’em, but we don’t want to scare ’em to death!”
When they were in the coop Mr. Boomschmidt gave a whistle, and through the gate came a procession of animals. Nearly every animal from the circus was there—tigers, elephants, a rhino named Jerry, three hyenas, two leopards, six alligators, and last, the boa constrictor. They filed past the chicken coop, and as each animal came opposite the doorway he put his head in and stared hard at the lion hunters. None of the animals growled or snapped: they just stared hard.
Then when they had all had a good look, they lined up on one side of the yard, and Mr. Boomschmidt ordered the boys out. “Your part of the show is over,” he said. “And you can go if you want to. You know what it is like now to be helpless. I hope you’ll remember it. And of course,” he added, “we will all be back this way again next summer.”
“Oh, golly, I guess we’ll remember all right,” said Jack. “We—I guess we didn’t real—
“That’s all I want to know,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “And now, if anybody wants a ride on the elephant, step right up. Free rides for everybody.”
Chapter 17
It was late in the afternoon when Freddy and the mice and the ducks finally got home. The Beans had gone out for a drive, so all the farm animals gathered in the cow barn, and Freddy told them about their adventures. Uncle Wesley was a good deal of bother, because he kept interrupting all the time to tell what he had thought or what he had done. For since his parachute jump, there had been no holding him. He seemed to believe firmly that it had been his idea to jump, and that Alice and Emma had jumped only because they had been shamed into it by his courageous example.
At last, after about the twentieth interruption, Freddy turned on him. “Look here, Uncle Wesley,” he said. “If you’re coming back to live on this farm, the time has come for you to hear some straight talk. We never used to call your bluffs, because Alice and Emma believed in you, and we didn’t want to hurt them. But they know now that you aren’t the hero you pretend to be.”
“Well, well, well,” said Uncle Wesley, swelling up angrily. “That sort of talk comes well from you, I must say. You didn’t jump out of any balloon.”
“No, but I wasn’t pushed out by mice, either,” said Freddy.
“Nonsense! Pushed out by mice indeed! I never heard—”
“All right,” said Freddy. “We’ll settle it right now. If you’ll go up and jump out of the upper barn door, I won’t say another word.”
“I guess that’s all you can do now, Wesley,” said Mrs. Wiggins.
“Balderdash!” exclaimed the duck. “I refuse to be a party to any such ridiculous performance. Come, Alice—Emma! If these animals can’t show a proper respect for my dignity and my standing in the community, I shall have to refuse to allow
you to have anything to do with them. Come, we will go.”
But Alice and Emma didn’t move.
“Maybe you’d better jump, Uncle Wesley,” said Emma after a moment,” Uncle Wesley isn’t afraid,” she said to Mrs. Wiggins, “He just feels that he doesn’t want to be forced to do something that is beneath his dignity.”
“Oh, my land!” said Mrs. Wiggins impatiently. “What does he think he is—a judge of the Supreme Court or something? I don’t say anything against dignity, though land knows I never could manage to have much, but when somebody calls you a coward, is it undignified to prove he’s wrong?”
Alice looked at Emma, and the two sisters turned and waddled up the stairs and disappeared in the loft above. A minute later the other animals, looking out through the doorway, saw them come sailing gracefully down through the air. Alice even turned a somersault before they landed in the barnyard. Then they came back into the barn.
… saw them com sailing gracefully down through the air.
There was a good deal of applause, but Uncle Wesley merely glared.
“The most undignified performance I ever hope to see,” he said cuttingly. “I am really at a loss to account for the change in you two since I have been away. Goodness knows I spared no pains in your upbringing, and I felt that I could always count on you to be modest and ladylike in your behavior. But this—this tomboyish exhibition, and at your years—”
“Stop!” said Alice suddenly.
Uncle Wesley’s bill dropped open and he stared at her in amazement. “You—you interrupted me!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, I did,” replied Alice. “And I might as well tell you, Uncle Wesley, that we have indeed changed since you’ve been away. As long as we believed that you were as gallant and fearless as you said you were, we were willing to do as you said. But we have found you out. Perhaps, because you are our uncle, we might still be willing to be guided by you in all our actions. But I think now we have our own dignity to consider. And so we have decided—Emma and I—that while we will be glad to have you come back and live with us again, in the future you will do as we say.”
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