When he woke up it was beginning to get dark. At first he couldn’t remember where he was. He got up sleepily and started to go out of the door, but just as he was going to step over the edge he looked down and saw the ground way below him, and he gave a yelp and jumped back. He stayed quiet after that, and it got darker and darker. He was hungry now, too. Back at the farm, he knew, the animals were all sitting down to their supper, talking and laughing and never giving a thought to the terrible danger he was in. He yelled for a while, but nobody came, so he went to sleep again.
The next time he woke up it was really dark. Out in the open fields, even when it is cloudy, it seldom gets as dark as it does in the deep woods. Weedly couldn’t even see the door. At least he couldn’t at first, but after a minute he knew where it was, because through it he saw a queer flickering light coming towards him through the trees. He didn’t know what it was, but then at a little distance he saw another light, and another, and after a minute he heard voices.
“Help!” he yelled. “Uncle Jinx! Here I am. In Old Whibley’s nest.”
The lights came together and approached the tree, and he saw that it was Jinx and Freddy, and the two dogs, Robert and Georgie. And on each head was a little flickering green light.
“What on earth are you doing up there?” said Jinx. “We missed you at supper and we’ve been hunting all over the farm for you.”
The light on Jinx’s head seemed to fly apart into sparks, which floated up towards the owl’s nest, and then came together again on the bark just over the door. Weedly saw now that they were fireflies.
“I want to get down,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Jinx drily, “I suppose you do. Well, you got up there somehow, so I suppose you can get down.”
“But I can’t,” said Little Weedly. “That old owl carried me up here.” And he told them how the trick he was going to play on Old Whibley had been turned against himself. “He’s a mean old thing,” he said.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Freddy. “There isn’t a mean feather on Old Whibley’s body. He did just right, if you ask me. You’ve been getting pretty fresh lately, Weedly.”
“He’s just played a joke on you,” said Robert. “He wouldn’t let you stay up there much longer. He’ll be back before long to take you down. He’s a good fellow.”
There was a sudden loud hoot above them in the tree and Old Whibley’s voice said: “Thanks for the compliments, gentlemen. You didn’t know I was up here, so I take it they’re sincere. Well, want me to bring him down?”
“I don’t want him to bring me down,” said Weedly. “He—he clawed me, carrying me up.”
“Clawed, nothing,” said Old Whibley contemptuously. “Want to know what it’s like to be really clawed? I’ll come in there and show you.”
“You let me alone,” said Weedly. “Uncle Jinx, you make him leave me alone.”
“Suit yourself,” said the owl. “Can’t wait around here all night. Evening, gentlemen.”
“He’s gone,” said Georgie. “He’ll be back, all right. But look, Jinx, we can get Weedly down if we have some rope.”
“I’d like to get him down,” said Jinx. “Whibley’s a good scout, but he don’t know what a time I’ve had getting Weedly not to be so scared. If he’s left up there all night, he may be just as scary as he was when he first came here, and then we’ll have to train him all over again.”
“If he was my nephew,” began Freddy, but Jinx interrupted. “Well, he isn’t,” he said crossly.
“All right, all right,” said the pig. “I have something to be thankful for, then. Well, come on, Georgie; you and I’ll go get the rope.” And they trotted off, the clusters of fireflies on their heads showing them the way like the little lanterns miners wear in their hats.
In half an hour they were back with the coil of rope. “We brought a ball of cord too,” said Freddy, “because the rope will be too heavy to carry up all that distance.”
“Hey, boys,” Jinx shouted to the fireflies over Old Whibley’s door, “go on up and find me the first branch directly over the door opening.”
The fireflies broke apart and clustered again on a branch about three feet higher up.
“Fine!” said Jinx. “Hold it!” And he took one end of the cord in his mouth and began to climb. He went up past Weedly to the branch, dropped the end of the cord over it, and then sat on the branch and pulled the cord up and over it until the end reached the ground, where Freddy, who was awfully good at knots, tied it to the end of the rope. Then he and the dogs got hold of the other end of the cord and pulled on it until the rope was up over the branch.
Jinx took the rope end in his mouth and slithered down the trunk and into the nest, where he tied it around Weedly’s waist.
“All ready, fellows?” he shouted. “Get a good grip on the rope now while I swing him out.”
“We’ve got it,” said Robert, as he and Georgie and Freddy seized the rope in their teeth and braced themselves.
For a wonder, Weedly did not protest at being pushed out to dangle over fifty feet of thin air. Perhaps it was because he had so much confidence in his adopted uncle. He only gave one faint squeal as his feet slithered over the edge of the doorway. He kicked a little when Jinx shouted, “Lower away!” and he began descending in jerks. Some of the jerks were pretty jerky, too, particularly the one when Freddy fell over a log. But they brought him to ground safely. And then from up above them came Old Whibley’s voice again.
“Nicely done, gentlemen.”
“My gosh,” said Jinx, “were you there all the time? You might have helped us.”
“I might,” said the owl.
“Letting us do all that work.”
“I’m like you that way,” said Old Whibley. “Never do work if I can get someone else to do it for me.”
“Aw, rats!” said Jinx disgustedly. “I ought to know better than to argue with you.” And he turned and cuffed Little Weedly severely. “Now,” he said, “get along home. I’m not very pleased with this night’s performance. You’re not a very good sport, I guess. You can dish it out all right, but you can’t take it.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, cat,” said Old Whibley, and they all looked up in surprise. “It’s easy enough—telling somebody else to be a good sport. Remember the time that rat down in Macy’s barn—”
“All right, all right,” Jinx interrupted hastily. “We haven’t time for all this talk. It’s Weedly’s bedtime.”
“Put him to bed then, and don’t lecture,” said the owl. “He hasn’t done so badly, and if he’s still mad at me, I guess I can bear it.”
“I’m not mad at you, Mr.—Mr. Whibley,” said Weedly.
“Good,” said the owl. “Just remember, there’s two ends to a joke. Depends on which end you get hold of whether it’s fun or not. Now get along and take those lightning bugs out of here. They hurt my eyes.”
Chapter 12
The next morning the three cows, Mrs. Wiggins and Mrs. Wurzburger and Mrs. Wogus, were in the upper pasture. They had had their breakfast and were lying under a tree by the stone wall, resting. Cows do a good deal of resting. They are not very ambitious, and few cows have ever made great names for themselves in the world. They would much rather sit around in the shade and talk. But they are often very wise animals, and their opinions are well worth listening to.
“It seems to me,” said Mrs. Wurzburger, “that Freddy is making a mistake in being so friendly with these Snedekers. He’s actually getting to like them. The first thing we know, he’ll be saying that they ought to be allowed to take the silver teapot.”
“I don’t agree with you,” said Mrs. Wogus. “He’s a deep pig, that Freddy. He’s got some scheme up his sleeve. He’ll get rid of the Snedekers all right.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Wiggins, “I don’t think I agree with either of you. I don’t think Freddy has got any scheme up his sleeve. But on the other hand, I don’t think he’s making a mistake in being friendly with them. Ther
e are two things you can do if you have a disagreement with somebody. You can try to settle it by fighting, or you can try to settle it by being friendly with them. I don’t think we’d get anywhere by fighting with the Snedekers. They’d just take the teapot and walk off, and we couldn’t stop them. But if we make friends of them, they’re as likely as not to decide the teapot isn’t worth fighting about. As long as Aunt Effie feels we’re her enemies, she’s willing to fight with us. But if she feels we’re her friends, she might come to value our friendship more than she does the teapot.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Mrs. Wurzburger. “I don’t fancy Aunt Effie much myself. But I can see she has some good qualities. And it’s funny, but you can like most anybody if you try hard enough.”
“Except that horrible little pig that Jinx adopted,” said Mrs. Wogus. “He jumped out at me yesterday when I was having lunch. I had a mouth full of clover, and I like to choked to death when he yelled. If I catch him around here again—”
“You’re going to catch him in about two minutes,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Here he comes now, with Jinx.”
“Well, my stars!” said Mrs. Wogus, getting up. “Can’t we have any peace? I’ll see you later, girls.” And she started off across the pasture.
“Good land, we can’t run away from a pig!” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Anyway, he won’t try any funny business with Jinx around.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Mrs. Wogus, and she came back and sat down again.
“Hello, girls,” said Jinx breezily. He came up to them, but Weedly stopped and waited at a little distance.
“Good morning,” said the cows. But none of them smiled.
“My goodness, why all the gloom?” said Jinx. “You all been eating poison ivy this morning or what?”
Mrs. Wogus looked at Mrs. Wurzburger and Mrs. Wurzburger looked at Mrs. Wiggins and Mrs. Wiggins said: “To tell you the truth, Jinx, we have been talking about Little Weedly. We don’t think he’s a very desirable person to have around this farm. We think you’d better send him back to his mother.”
“Oh, go on!” said the cat. “Weedly’s all right. He’s just full of high spirits. You girls need shaking up a little. It’ll do you good.”
“It’s our opinion that Weedly needs the shaking,” put in Mrs. Wogus. “And believe me, he’s going to get it if he cuts up any more of his didoes around the cowbarn.”
“You’d better take him home before he gets hurt,” said Mrs. Wurzburger.
“H’m, you mean it, don’t you?” said Jinx, becoming serious. “Well, as a matter of fact, there’s something in what you say. But Weedly and I had a little talk last night—after certain happenings up in the woods—and I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble with him.”
“Where have I heard that before?” said Mrs. Wogus sarcastically.
“All right, all right,” said Jinx. “But you can hear what he’s got to say to you, anyway. Weedly, come here. What did you want to say to these ladies?”
“Well,” said the pig, “I—I wanted to say that I’m sort of—I mean, I’m sorry I scared you. And I won’t do it again.”
“H’m,” said Mrs. Wurzburger and Mrs. Wogus, and they looked at each other and shook their heads. But Mrs. Wiggins said: “Well, we can’t ask any more in the way of an apology than that. We accept it.”
“But you don’t believe me, do you?” said Weedly. “And I do mean it, honestly I do.”
“Yes, I guess you mean it now,” said Mrs. Wogus. “But how about tomorrow, when you find me taking a nap in the cowbarn? I suppose you won’t want to wake me up and scare me half to death, will you?”
“Well, I may want to,” said Weedly. “But I won’t do it. Because I—well, I didn’t know what it was like to have mean jokes played on you. But now I know that there’s two ends to a joke, and it depends on which end you get hold of whether it’s fun or not.”
“That sounds like Old Whibley,” said Mrs. Wurzburger.
“It is Old Whibley,” said Jinx. And he told them about what had happened in the woods.
“Well,” said Mrs. Wurzburger, “I’m willing to give you another chance. Only let me warn you, Weedly—”
“Now, now,” interrupted Mrs. Wiggins. “He’s apologized, hasn’t he? Well, let’s just forget it. We’ll just shake hands all round on it, and forget it.” So Weedly shook hands with the three cows, and then he sat down and they talked about other things.
But they hadn’t talked long when they saw Uncle Snedeker coming up the lane towards them. He had a stack of little white envelopes in his hand, and when he came up he handed each of them one, and then climbed the wall and went on up towards the woods.
“What on earth!” said Mrs. Wiggins. She had taken the envelope in her mouth, and now she got up and went over and dropped it on the top of the wall, and stood looking at it as if it might go off the next minute like a firecracker. “Now who would write me a letter?” she said.
“Why don’t you open it and find out?” said Jinx, who had hooked a claw under the flap of his own envelope and was tearing it open.
“Well,” said Mrs. Wiggins, “I don’t know much about letters, and that’s a fact. But I never saw one yet that wasn’t better left unopened. The way I figure it, Jinx, is that what I don’t know won’t hurt me. As long as it isn’t opened, I can think of lots of nice things it might be. But as soon as I open it, then it means I’ve got to do something. Even if it isn’t anything but answering it.”
Jinx had got the envelope open by this time, and he pulled out a card. “Well,” he said, “if you know what this means, you’re smarter than I am.” And he said it as if there wasn’t much doubt how smart he was.
The cows gathered around and looked at the card. On it was printed in very fancy letters: Mrs. Lucius Snedeker. And underneath was written: At home, Friday, August Seventh. Four o’clock. R.S.V.P.
“Why, that’s today,” said Mrs. Wogus.
“So it is,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “So it is. Well, would you ever have thought that Mr. Snedeker’s name was Lucius?”
“Yes,” said Jinx, “but what does it mean?”
“Well, it’s Aunt Effie’s calling card,” said Mrs. Wurzburger.
“Sure it is,” said the cat. “But what’s it say ‘At home’ for? We know she’s at home. She don’t have to send us notices about it. Of all the silly—”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Mrs. Wiggins. “Today’s the day she gives us the teaparty. And it says here ‘four o’clock.’ Maybe it’s kind of an invitation, and that’s the time we’re to come.”
“Well, I still say it’s silly,” said Jinx. “If I was sending out invitations, I’d say, ‘Please come to my teaparty at four o’clock.’ And what’s all this ‘R.S.V.P.’ stuff at the bottom?”
“I guess we’d better ask Freddy,” said Mrs. Wiggins.
“Oh, Freddy!” exclaimed Jinx. “Freddy! What are you always asking Freddy about things for? He don’t know any more than we do.”
“Well, he certainly can’t know any less,” snapped Mrs. Wogus, and as the other cows agreed with her, they all went down to the pigpen.
Freddy came out to meet them. “Good morning,” he said. “Well, I suppose you’re getting your manners all polished up for the party this afternoon?”
“I guess my manners are good enough for any party this Aunt Effie can give,” said Jinx.
“Sure they are,” said Mrs. Wurzburger. “You’ve got nice manners, Jinx. The only trouble is,” she added, as the cat’s face broke into a pleased smile, “that you never use them.”
“Oh, is that so!” said Jinx.
“I expect that’s so of all of us,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “We know how to be polite all right, but we just don’t take the trouble.”
“Well, I don’t see why you think we should waste all our politeness on these Snedekers,” said the cat.
“I’ll tell you why,” said Freddy. “When Aunt Effie was talking to me she said she had never liked animals much, becau
se she didn’t think they had nice manners. I think we ought to show her that that isn’t so. Because after all, it is Mrs. Bean that has taught us all the manners we know, and we’d want Mrs. Bean to be proud of us, wouldn’t we?”
“Well, since you put it that way,” said Jinx, “maybe you’re right.”
“So I’ve gone around to all the animals this morning,” Freddy went on, “and asked them to practice up on their manners a little before going to the party. There! That’s what I mean,” he said, pointing to two chipmunks who were standing before a crevice in the stone wall, bowing to each other.
“No, no, Roger,” said the first chipmunk. “After you, my dear fellow.” And he put one paw over his heart and bowed deeply.
“After you, my dear fellow.”
But the other chipmunk also bowed. “I wouldn’t dream of preceding you, my honored friend,” he said. “After you, Horace, I beg.” And they kept on bowing and making polite speeches, while the other animals watched them, until at last as they both made one specially deep bow at the same moment, their heads came together with a crack, and at once they dove together for the hole, out of which came angry squeaks and a sound of scrabbling. And in a minute out popped Roger. He ran over to Freddy.
“He bit me!” he said angrily. “That’s what I get for trying to be polite to him. You just wait till I catch him in the open, the big bully. I’ll show him!”
“Well, I don’t know,” said the pig. “You can’t expect him to be polite all at once, you know. It’s hard to learn to be really polite. I’d try again, if I were you. After all, it was an accident when you banged your heads. It wasn’t anything to fight about.”
Freddy’s Cousin Weedly Page 10