“No, no,” interrupted Freddy impatiently, “I mean unusual noises. Think carefully now.”
“H’m,” said Jinx thoughtfully, “why, let’s see. I heard one thing I don’t usually hear. Those four flies that sleep on the kitchen ceiling—I caught one of them this morning, by the way—they woke up and got quarreling about something in the night. Of course that’s not exactly what you’d call a noise; even I could hardly hear it. And then, there was something, it seems to me. What was it? I just faintly remember—Oh, I know! It was a couple of thumps.”
“Thumps?”
“Yes. Outside somewhere.”
“What kind of thumps?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just thumps. I thought maybe it was some of those coons from over in the woods. They’re always playing monkey-shines at night. But I was too sleepy to go look.”
“Ah,” said Freddy, “I thought so. Well, my case is complete without that, but it all hangs together very nicely. A very nice piece of detective work. See here, Jinx. I’ll show you just how I solved the case. Here’s the first clue I discovered. We’ll call it Exhibit A. What do you make of that?”
There were some scratches on the white paint of the window-sill, and in several of them were traces of green paint. Jinx looked at them, sniffed of them, and said: “Ah! Just so!” because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“That doesn’t mean anything to you?” asked Freddy.
“Yes, yes. Quite!” said Jinx hastily. “Green paint. Very significant.”
“I’m glad you follow me,” said Freddy. “Now for Exhibit B.” And he took Jinx over to the bed and showed him half a dozen very fine, very short dark gray hairs on the pillow.
Jinx looked at the hairs, but when he sniffed at them, he sniffed so hard that he blew them on to the floor.
“Hey!” shouted Freddy. “Be a little careful, can’t you? You’re destroying the evidence! We need those for our case.”
“Case of what—measles?” said the cat contemptuously. “Say, look here, Freddy; are you trying to kid me, or are you just plain silly? You talk about those little old gray hairs and that green paint as if you’d found a pitcher of cream. If this is all there is to your detective business, I’m going. I know lots of better ways of having fun than—”
“Oh, wait a minute!” exclaimed the pig. “Gosh, Jinx, I thought you understood what it meant. You said you did. Look here. Those cars in the train are painted green, aren’t they? Well, what does that paint mean, then? It means that the cars rubbed on the window-sill when the thief was taking them out of the window last night, doesn’t it?”
“H’m. I see what you’re getting at,” said Jinx.
“All right,” went on Freddy. “Now, what kind of hairs were those I showed you?”
“Those hairs? I don’t know. Just hairs.”
“Oh, use a little sense! Were they Ella’s? Or Mrs. Bean’s?”
“No, of course not. Hairs like that—why, I suppose they might be cat hairs.”
“Where is there a gray cat in this neighborhood?” asked Freddy.
“H’m. Mice, then,” said Jinx. “No,” he added, “they’re too coarse for mouse hairs. But—rats!” he exclaimed suddenly. “By George, they’re rat hairs, Freddy! Well, of all the nerve!”
Jinx was really very much upset, for the presence of a rat in the house was against all the rules. When Jinx had first come to the farm, several years earlier, there had been a family of rats living in the house, and several of them in the barn. When Jinx had ordered them out, they had just laughed at him, but Jinx was a brave and stalwart cat and a fierce fighter, and after several battles in which the rats had got much the worst of it, they had met him one night under a flag of truce and had agreed that if he would let them alone, they would all move down into the woods and would not enter either house or barn again. Until now they had kept the agreement.
“I can’t believe it,” said Jinx. “Those are rat hairs, all right, but there’s only one way a rat could get into this room. He couldn’t climb up the porch. He’d have to come in the door. And the door was shut all night. I don’t believe any rat would dare come in during the day-time and hide.”
“He wouldn’t have to,” said Freddy. “Look under the bed, Jinx.”
The cat went under the bed and came out in a moment looking more worried than ever. “A fresh rat-hole!” he exclaimed. “Yes, there’s no doubt about it. But it must have been a job to get that train of cars out of the window. I suppose they pushed them out and then got out on the porch roof and pushed them over the edge.”
“And those were the thumps you heard,” said Freddy. “Now come outside. They couldn’t have carried the cars off. Each car is as big as a rat, as there were four of them and a tender, all fastened together. They must have dragged them, and we can probably find where they dragged them to.”
In the big flower-bed in front of the porch six or seven squirrels were hard at work, pulling out weeds and raking with their claws and then sweeping the dirt smooth with their tails.
“Hey, Bill,” called Freddy to the largest squirrel, who seemed to be the foreman, “come here a minute. I want to ask you something.”
Bill dusted off his paws, growled to the other workmen to “keep busy, now, and no loafing while my back’s turned,” and came over to the pig.
“I suppose, Bill, you’ve heard about this train of cars that’s missing, haven’t you?” asked Freddy.
“Couldn’t very well help it, sir,” said the squirrel. “Everybody’s talking about it.”
“Well,” said the pig, “we have reason to believe that the thief took it out of the window and pushed it off the roof. Now, I wonder if when you started work here this morning, you noticed any traces of where it fell into the flower-bed?”
“That I did, sir,” replied the foreman. “That’s what it must have been, though I didn’t think of it at the time. A leaf was broken off one of those big cannas, and there was a big dent in the dirt, just where—” He broke off to shout angrily at one of the workmen. “Hey, Caspar! Don’t pull that up! It’s not a weed! Can’t I ever teach you fellows the difference between chick-weed and nasturtiums? You’ve got no more brains than a chipmunk!—Excuse me, sir,” he apologized to Freddy. “You can’t trust these fellows a minute. They know the difference all right, but they pretend they think the nasturtiums are weeds so they can pull ’em up and eat ’em. They like the taste.”
“Quite so, quite so,” said Freddy hastily. “But you were saying—?”
“Dear, dear, what was I saying?” The squirrel scratched his ear thoughtfully. “Oh, yes—right to the left, there, was where the dent was. And I remember that you could see where something had been dragged off in the direction of the barn. You can’t see it now, since the dew has dried off the grass, but ’twas plain as plain. Straight down toward the barn, sir.”
Freddy thanked the squirrel, and he and Jinx went to the barn, to see Hank, the old white horse.
“Ah, Freddy,” said Hank, “we don’t see you round here nowadays as much as we might. But I suppose you’re busy with your books, reading and writing poetry.”
“Oh, poetry’s all right,” said Freddy, “but I’ve got something really important to do now. I’m a detective.”
“Think of that!” said Hank admiringly. “And what do you—er, well—what are you detecting today?”
“I’m on the trail of a gang of thieves,” replied the pig. “They stole Everett’s train of cars last night, and I believe they’ve brought it down here. At least, they came by here with it, and I wondered if you heard or saw anything of them.”
Hank chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of hay. “No,” he said. “I don’t recollect anything. Who stole it?”
Freddy said they had reason to believe it was rats.
“Rats in the house!” exclaimed Hank. “Why, that’s bad for you, Jinx. What’ll Mr. Bean say when he finds out?”
“I guess it is bad for me!” said the cat. “Darn those rats an
yway! I never yet knew a rat who could keep his word! Now I’ll have to begin all over again.”
“Now you speak of it,” said Hank thoughtfully, “I remember that I’ve been hearing some funny noises lately. Little rustlings and squeakings under the floor. I never thought of rats, because they’d promised not to come in here, but I ain’t so sure now. Maybe they’ve moved back into their old quarters, where they used to live before you came.”
This piece of news upset Jinx even more, for the rats had had a large establishment under the barn, a maze of tunnels and passages and underground rooms. He jumped down from the manger where he had been sitting, and went outside, followed by Freddy. “Their main entrance used to be under the foundations at the back,” he said. “We’ll see if it shows any signs of having been used lately.”
But just as they came out the door a gray shape darted across an open space and into the shelter of a clump of weeds that grew close to the barn wall.
Jinx leaped after it. “Hey, you!” he shouted angrily. “Come out of there!” But the rat had dived down a hole and disappeared.
Jinx turned to Freddy, trembling with rage. “Can you beat it?” he demanded. “They’re here all right. That was old Simon. He was their leader in all the fights I had with them. The sly old wretch! I wonder what they’re up to. They wouldn’t dare come back if they didn’t have some pretty good scheme in their heads.”
“Let’s have a talk with them,” suggested Freddy. “Send one of the mice down with a flag of truce. Maybe we can find out something.”
So Eeny, one of the mice who lived in the barn, was sent down with a flag of truce, and pretty soon up came old Simon with two of his sons, Zeke and Ezra.
“Hello, Jinx,” said Simon with an oily smile. “Long time since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you. You’re looking well, remarkably well for a cat. Though a little worried. Something on your mind?”
“Come, cut out the soft soap!” said Jinx roughly. “Look here, Simon; what’s the big idea? I want to know what you’re doing in this barn.”
Simon looked surprised. “Why, Jinx—it’s our old home. Our old family mansion. Why shouldn’t we be here?”
“You know blame well,” said Jinx angrily. “You agreed two years ago—”
“Oh yes, that agreement.” Simon waved a paw airily. “You didn’t really take that seriously, did you? It seemed the best way, at the time, to settle our little misunderstanding. But of course this is our home; you couldn’t expect us to go live down in those damp, musty woods forever. Could you, now?”
“You certainly won’t live forever if you come back to the barn,” said Jinx dryly.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Simon; and his two sons laughed “Ha, ha, ha!” and smoothed their whiskers with their paws. “You will have your joke, Jinx.—But come, let’s be serious. It seems to us that every animal has a right to live where he wants to. We’ve talked it all over. All you other animals—cows and pigs and dogs and horses—have warm comfortable houses to live in. Why should the rats be the only ones to live in gloomy, unhealthy burrows in the ground?”
“Because you’re thieves, that’s why!” exclaimed Jinx. “I wouldn’t have any objection to your living in the barn, and neither would Mr. Bean, but you steal the grain and everything else you can lay your paws on, and you gnaw holes in everything and destroy property. That’s why.”
The old gray rat spread out his paws. “But we have to live! Even the humble rats have to live.”
Jinx laughed a harsh laugh. “Oh, no, you don’t!” he said. “Not while I’ve got my claws and teeth. Well,” he added, “I see you’ve made up your minds, so I suppose it’s war again, eh?”
But Simon did not seem disturbed. “War?” he said. “Why war? There won’t be any war. We don’t have to fight you, Jinx, to live in the barn.” He grinned wickedly. “You may think we do, but we don’t. Things have changed, Jinx.”
“Is that so?” said the cat. “Well, I don’t know what you’re up to, but take my word for it, it won’t last long. I give you warning—the next time I see a rat in the barn, it’s good-bye, rat. And that means you, and you, and you,” and he glared at each of them in turn so fiercely that they moved away a little uncomfortably.
“Well,” said Simon, “if that’s all you got us up here for, we might as well be going, pleasant as it is to see you again. Boys—”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Freddy. “Simon, what about the train of toy cars you stole last night?”
Zeke and Ezra looked startled, but Simon merely grinned. “So—o—o!” he said slowly, “you found out about that, did you?” There was a faint gleam of admiration in his beady black eyes. “Very clever of you, Freddy. Not that it will be any advantage to you. You’d have found out we had it soon enough.”
“We expect you to give it back,” said the pig. “Every animal on the farm will be sore at you if you don’t. They’re all very fond of Everett, and—”
“Oh, sure; they’re all fond of Everett!” interrupted Zeke angrily. “He pets ’em and feeds ’em. But what has he ever done for us? And what has Mr. Bean ever done for us? Set traps and mixed poison—that’s what he’s done for us! Driven us out of our comfortable homes! And you think we should be nice and kind and do things for him and say ‘pretty please’ just because he’s a man and owns this farm. Well, we’re sick of men. Men are all alike, selfish know-it-alls, and if you don’t do as they say—out you go! But you just wait! You and the rest of the stuck-up animals on this farm that think you’re so smart! We’ve got a few tricks up our sleeve yet. You wait till you see that train of cars the next time; you’ll laugh out of the other side of your mouths! Just wait till—”
But here Simon interrupted him. “Come, come, son; there’s nothing to be gained by violence. You must excuse him, gentlemen. My son is so impetuous. Dear, dear! I suppose we were all that way once. Ah, youth, youth! Even you were once young, I suppose, Freddy, though now you’ve become so stupid and fat and stodgy that no doubt you’ve forgotten those far-off days when you were a gay squealing piglet, and the whole world was your trough.”
“I’m not old and I’m not stodgy,” snapped Freddy; but Jinx said: “You’re impudent, Simon. And no rat is ever impudent to me twice. I’ll give you till tonight to clear out of the barn and to return that train. If by eight o’clock it’s not done, then it’s war! And understand me: when I say war, I mean war! Now, git!” And he bared his teeth in such a ferocious grin that the three rats, with a snarl, dived down the hole and disappeared.
“You know,” said Freddy, as they walked back to the house, “there’s really something in what they say. It must be rather hard to be driven out of your home and hunted from pillar to post.”
“You have a sympathetic nature, Freddy,” replied his friend. “It does you credit, but your sympathy is wasted on these rats. Nobody’d hunt ’em if they’d behave themselves. And, anyway, if all animals behaved themselves, how could you go on being a detective? There wouldn’t be any crimes for you to detect.”
“I suppose that’s so,” sighed the pig. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be a detective after all, Jinx. I shall always feel so sorry for the criminals when I find them that I’ll probably let them go.”
“Huh, that’s silly!” said the cat. “I feel sorry for those rats—yes, I do! But what’ll you bet they bring back the train and leave the barn tonight?”
“I bet they don’t,” replied Freddy promptly. “They’ve got something up their sleeve, all right. Did you see how Simon stopped Zeke when he was afraid he’d say too much? No, sir! They’re going to start something, and they’re going to start it right away or I miss my guess. You’re going to watch the barn tonight, I suppose?”
“Sure, I’ll have to.”
“Well, I’m going to watch with you, then,” said Freddy. “You see, a detective’s job isn’t finished when he’s found out who the criminal is. He has to put him in jail. I’m going home now to think this case over. Meet you in Hank’s stall at eight o’clock.�
�� And he trotted off, stopping now and then to peer intently at the ground as if searching for further clues.
CHAPTER III
THE ARMORED TRAIN
Thunder rumbled distantly, and the orchard trees stood out black against the flickering western sky as Freddy stole into the barn and made his way silently to Hank’s stall.
“Hello,” whispered Hank. “Jinx has gone up to take a turn around the hay-mow. We’ll be getting some rain presently, I expect. I guess Mr. Bean will be glad; everything’s got pretty well burned up this long dry spell. But I’ve known for two days we’d get a storm. I always feel it in that off hind leg of mine. Stiffened up something dreadful today.”
“Sh-h-h!” hissed Freddy. “Mustn’t talk. Rats’ll hear.”
Hank grunted something under his breath and then was silent. Freddy could hear the crisp dry swish as hay was pulled from the rack, and the slow comfortable munching that followed. The flicker of lightning was almost continuous now in the square of the open doorway, and the approaching drums of the thunder shook the windless air. Then something furry brushed against Freddy’s shoulder and he jumped violently and let out a startled squeal.
“Shut up, you idiot,” came Jinx’s whisper. “It’s only me.”
Freddy was so ashamed that he couldn’t think of anything to say. What would Sherlock Holmes think of a detective who jumped almost out of his skin when his friend touched him?
“I thought I heard some gnawing going on,” murmured Jinx, “but I can’t find anything. We’ll just wait awhile.”
Freddy wondered what good he would be if they did find the rats in the hay-mow. Pigs are stout fighters, but they like to fight in the open; and up there in the pitch-dark, floundering about in the hay—well, the idea didn’t appeal to him much. Then he reflected that after all both he and Jinx wanted first of all to find out just what the rats were up to and where they had hidden the train of cars. There probably wouldn’t be any fighting tonight.
Freddy the Detective Page 2