Freddy Plays Football

by Walter R. Brooks

  Freddy and Jinx were both puzzled by what the Webbs had to tell. “Let me see, now,” said the pig, frowning importantly and putting on his Great Detective expression and no nonsense about it either, please! “Doty claims to have come straight on here from the west, where he’s been all these years. How is it he knows Garble, then? And why is Garble giving him money? And what did Garble mean—”

  “Hey, look, pig,” said Jinx impatiently, “those are questions we’re asking you. What’s the sense of asking them back to us again?”

  “Quiet, please!” said Freddy, closing his eyes and putting one fore trotter to his brow. “In detective work you know very well that I am competent and reliable. Mr. Garble, although an old enemy of mine, has himself admitted it. Now in considering a case, my method is to ask all possible questions about it, and then to find a theory that will answer them all. Then the case is solved…”

  “OK, OK,” said Jinx, winking at the Webbs. “Give with the theory, master mind.”

  “Well,” said Freddy, “you remember, Jinx, that Mrs. Bean told you that they tried for a long time to find her brother, because half the money her father left really belonged to him.”

  “You mean Doty’s here for the money, and he’s going to split it with Garble?”

  “Please let me continue,” said Freddy severely. “Doty is certainly here for the money. But why should he split with Garble? Have you ever asked yourself—is Doty Doty?”

  “I certainly have not!” said Jinx. “You trying to be funny?”

  “I’m trying to show you that Mr. Doty isn’t what he says he is. I don’t think he’s Mrs. Bean’s brother at all. I think he’s somebody that Garble got to come here and pass himself off as Aaron Doty, in order to get the real Doty’s money.”

  “But Mrs. Bean says he’s her brother,” said Mr. Webb. “Didn’t she recognize him?”

  “How could she recognize him when she hasn’t seen him since she was a little girl? He said he was her brother, and he told her a few things about when she was little that probably Mr. Garble had found out for him. So she believed him. It’s pretty easy to believe something when you want to a lot.”

  “ ’Tisn’t easy for me to believe that you owe me a lot of money,” said Jinx, “though I sure want to.”

  “But what can we do about it?” Mrs. Webb asked.

  “If there was time,” said Freddy, “we ought to do some detective work on Doty—find out who he really is. But Mrs. Bean may turn over the money to him any day, and as soon as she does he’ll be off over the hills, and our chance is gone.”

  “She’s going to give him the money,” said Jinx. “They were all talking about it the other night. Doty said there wasn’t any hurry, but Mrs. Bean said: ‘Yes, there is, too! That money belongs to you, Aaron, and you’re going to have it.’ But later that night, after Doty had gone to bed, the Beans were talking, and I guess they’re going to have a hard time raising the money. They were thinking of selling something—I couldn’t make out whether it was land, or some of the animals.”

  “My goodness,” said Freddy, “that would probably be the cows. Wouldn’t it be awful if he had to sell Mrs. Wiggins!”

  “Well, the Beans are worried about it,” said Jinx. “Mr. Bean’s going down to see Mr. Weezer, at the bank, to see if he can borrow some money. He said: ‘Likely we won’t have much besides beans to eat for a few years. But don’t you worry, Mrs. B.,’ he said; ‘we’ve been through hard times before. We’ll get by.’”

  “It’s worse than I thought it was,” said Freddy. “We ought to go down right away and tell Mrs. Bean what we know.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Mrs. Webb. “I know Mrs. Bean would listen to you, but wouldn’t it be better if all the animals on the farm went down together? We’re all concerned in it, and wouldn’t that carry more weight?”

  “I believe you’re right,” Freddy said. “I tell you what—we’ve got all afternoon to round everybody up and tell ’em about it; I guess we’d better call a meeting in the barn and tell ’em all at once. Then after supper, go over to the house. Come on, Jinx; we’ll go down to the barn and run up the flag. You Webbs going down, too?”

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Webb, “I’d like to get the place tidied up a little before nightfall. That web was as neat as a pin when we left it last spring, but it beats all how much dust and dirt accumulates when you leave a place, even for a few days. I expect I’ll have my hands full. But Webb can go to the meeting. He’s only in the way, housecleaning time.”

  So the Webbs climbed up on Freddy’s nose, and they all started for the barn.

  Chapter 5

  Some years earlier the animals had formed the First Animal Republic, with Mrs. Wiggins as President, and Commander-in-Chief of its army, which under her leadership had fought two remarkably successful campaigns. In peaceful times there wasn’t much governing or commanding to be done, but when any danger threatened, the old flag of the F.A.R. was hoisted on the barn. That was the emergency signal. When they saw it, or heard from neighbors that it was flying, it was the duty of all citizens to drop everything and hurry down to the barn.

  As soon as Freddy and Jinx had warned Mrs. Wiggins and got the flag up, the animals began streaming in. There were field mice and woodchucks and chipmunks and rabbits from the meadows and pastures, and there were squirrels and porcupines and bears, and even a wildcat or two, from the woods. There was Sniffy Wilson, the skunk, and his family, and John, the fox, and hundreds of birds. And of course all the regular farm animals who lived around the barnyard. Even Old Whibley, the owl, had come down from the Big Woods.

  The barn was crowded to the doors when Mrs. Wiggins called the meeting to order. “Fellow citizens,” she said, “you have been called together to hear some rather disturbing news. Most of you are doubtless acquainted with that distinguished team of world travelers and explorers, Mr. and Mrs. Webb. They have just returned from Hollywood, and will no doubt later have much to tell us concerning the manners and customs, the follies, fancies and foibles of that—that glamorous—” Here Mrs. Wiggins, who had been slowing down gradually, came to a full stop. “Good land, Charles,” she said, looking down at the rooster, “I can’t remember all those big words. That was a real nice speech you wrote out for me, but I guess you’ll just have to let me tell it in my own way.”

  Charles shrugged his shoulders crossly. “What a president!” he muttered to Henrietta. “No style; no sense of—”

  “Shut up!” said Henrietta.

  “Now the point is, folks,” Mrs. Wiggins went on, “first, that the Webbs are back. Let’s give them a big hand. Webb! Where are you, Webb? Come forward please.”

  Mr. Webb had already come forward and was perched on the tip of Mrs. Wiggins’ left horn, but of course she couldn’t see him, and she continued peering around anxiously for him all the time that the crowd was cheering and Mr. Webb was waving his legs at them in greeting. Mrs. Webb, too, had decided to let the housecleaning go, and had slid down to the other horn.

  “Well,” said Mrs. Wiggins finally, holding up a hoof for silence, “I’m sorry that the Webbs seem to have disappeared somewhere—”

  “They’re on your horns, cow,” said a voice.

  “Eh?” Mrs. Wiggins rolled her eyes to try to catch a glimpse of her horns. She rolled them up so far that she said “Ouch!” and shook her head. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said. “All I saw then was the inside of my head, and that’s so dark that I couldn’t see them if they were there.”

  “Dark and empty,” Charles said sarcastically. And then he squawked, for Henrietta seized him by the ear and rushed him outside.

  Then the cow went on and told them about what the Webbs had found out, and how the plan was for all the animals to go up to the house in a body and tell Mrs. Bean, and demand an explanation from Mr. Doty. But first, she said, they ought to talk it over to see that everyone agreed, or maybe had a better plan.

  Usually when there was any general decision to be made there w
ould be an endless amount of talk, and as many plans as there were animals present. But this was the most serious thing that had ever come up. They all knew the reason why Mr. Bean never had much money. Whenever he got a few dollars ahead, instead of saving it, he would put in some new improvement to make the animals more comfortable. Some people thought he spoiled his animals and his neighbors criticized him a lot, but you would have a hard time finding a farm where the animals were as contented as they were at the Beans’. And so when they heard the news they were good and mad, and they began muttering, and then shouts came from all over the barn: “Throw him out!” “Let’s run him off the place!” “Down with Doty!” And then Charles flew up on the dashboard of the old phaeton. For he had sneaked back in again when Henrietta wasn’t looking.

  “Fellow citizens!” he crowed. “What are we waiting for? Are we to stand here idle while this false Doty, this serpent, this vile-hearted impostor, plots the fall of the house of Bean under our very beaks and noses? Even now he sits in the kitchen, grinning evilly and eating apple pie as he schemes our ruin. Well, we know what to do with traitors. Teeth and claws, comrades; teeth and claws! Forward, in the name of the F.A.R.! And I will lead you!” And he started for the door.

  Forward, in the name of the F.A.R.

  This was one of the shortest speeches Charles had ever made. Although he enjoyed nothing so much as calling on a large audience to rise and overthrow something or other, he seldom got around to demanding action—first, because he liked hearing his own voice, and second—well, there isn’t any second. So when he actually started to lead the animals against Mr. Doty he took Freddy and Mrs. Wiggins by surprise. And the whole crowd had streamed out the door and headed for the house before they could prevent them.

  “Great day in the morning, Freddy,” said Mrs. Wiggins, “they’ll spoil everything if they gang up on Doty before we explain to the Beans. We must stop them.”

  “How?” inquired a deep voice, and Freddy looked up. Old Whibley was sitting on a beam above them.

  “I don’t know,” said the pig. “I guess we didn’t handle it very well.”

  “You didn’t handle it at all,” said the owl. “Your scheme was no good in the first place. You can’t prove that Doty isn’t Mrs. Bean’s brother, and that’s the main point.”

  “But we’ve got to stop Charles,” said Mrs. Wiggins.

  “He’ll stop himself, just like any alarm clock, whether it’s got feathers on or not. My guess is he’s run down already. Come out and see.” And he dropped from the beam and floated out the door to perch on the clothesline.

  The other two followed him. Halfway across the barnyard Charles had indeed brought his followers to a stop with an uplifted claw. “My friends,” he was saying, “let us pause and consider. In our righteous indignation we have perhaps been too hasty. My eloquent appeal has stirred your patriotism to its depths, and yet perhaps the hour for action has not struck. Understand me, I take nothing back of what I have said—”

  “That’s easy,” Old Whibley remarked. “You haven’t said anything yet.”

  Freddy ran around and faced the animals, pushing Charles to one side. “Look,” he said; “Whibley thinks we haven’t got much of a case against Doty yet. But just the same I think we ought to tell Mrs. Bean what the Webbs found out. Come up to the porch and sit down quietly. Charles, you keep your beak shut.”

  Charles’ courage had revived, now that he saw that he wasn’t going to have to lead any sort of attack, and he blustered a little. But nobody listened. Then when they were all sitting in a half circle around the back porch, Freddy went up and tapped on the door.

  Mr. Bean opened it and looked out. “What in tarnation is going on here?” he demanded. “Mrs. B.,” he called over his shoulder, “you sent out invitations for a party or something?”

  Mrs. Bean came hurrying out, followed by Mr. Doty. “Land of love!” she exclaimed. “Looks like a town meeting. What is it, Freddy?”

  “It’s a farm meeting, ma’am,” said the pig. “We’ve found out something we think you ought to know, and we’ve come down to tell you about it.”

  So Mrs. Bean said to go ahead, and Freddy told her about the Webbs and about the meeting between Mr. Doty and Mr. Garble. While he was talking, Mr. Bean walked over to the corner of the porch and puffed so hard on his pipe that the sparks flew into his beard. He was very proud of his animals, but he never liked to hear them talk. He was sort of old fashioned that way.

  Freddy watched Mr. Doty as his story went on. Mr. Doty didn’t look at all disturbed; he looked amused, and every now and then he would nod his head and say: “Well, well, well!” as if in agreement. And when Freddy finished, he said to Mrs. Bean: “Well, well, Martha; quite a story, eh? ’Deed, ’tis so!”

  “It’s a very queer story, Aaron,” said Mrs. Bean slowly. “I didn’t know you knew Herb Garble.”

  “I didn’t know him. Ye see,” he said with a great appearance of honesty, “when the circus came to the town I was living in—Collywobble, Indiana, ’twas—and I saw that notice that somebody wanted Aaron Doty, I went in and asked Mr. Boomschmidt what it was all about. He told me. Well, I’m a poor man. If there was some money coming to me, I wanted it. That’s natural, ain’t it?”

  “Of course it is,” said Mrs. Bean. “But why did you never come before?”

  “Well, well, I’ve been wanting to for years. Been wondering if you was alive. But—well, I guess I was ashamed to show up here all ragged and run down. And trips like that I couldn’t afford. I couldn’t even write, because you was always a real pretty girl, Martha, and I knew you’d surely married, and I wouldn’t know your married name. And of course I didn’t know that father had left any money.”

  Mr. Bean took the pipe out of his mouth. “Where’s Garble come into it?” he said gruffly.

  “Well, well, you don’t like Garble, William. Nor neither do I. But if it hadn’t been for Garble.… Well, I didn’t have any money for the trip. And I was talkin’ to a fellow I met in the circus—forget his name—one of the hired hands. Course, he knew Centerboro, with the circus coming here every year. He says: ‘Write to Herb Garble. He’s got lots of money. He’ll grubstake you.’ So I put in a long distance call right away to this Garble—”

  “Where’d you get the money for a long distance call if you were broke?” Freddy asked.

  Mr. Doty smiled, but Freddy saw the same mean look in his eyes that had been there when he had thrown stones at Uncle Wesley. “Generally speakin’,” he said, “questions put by pigs I don’t answer. Same as criticism by spiders I disregard. But I consider that my dear sister here will want an answer. So I’ll just remark that I reversed the phone charge, and Mr. Garble paid at the other end. We struck a bargain, and he sent me my fare, and I came on.”

  “But why didn’t you write to us, Aaron?” said Mrs. Bean. “We’d have sent the money.”

  “Well, well, so you would. So you would, I expect. But—oh, I was kind of ashamed of being so poor. I didn’t want you to know about it. That’s why I didn’t tell you about Mr. Garble.”

  “He just thought up that one,” Freddy whispered in Mrs. Wiggins’ ear, and the cow nodded. But Mrs. Bean took hold of Mr. Doty’s arm and squeezed it. “Why of course, Aaron,” she said, smiling at him, “that was perfectly natural. Well, you don’t have to worry about that any longer.” She looked down at Freddy. “Your detective work has made you too suspicious, Freddy,” she said. “Brother Aaron has given us a straightforward explanation, and I hope you see now that your suspicions were uncalled for. All you animals see that now, I hope?” she said, looking around at them.

  The animals all nodded, though some of them still looked doubtful. Mr. Bean knocked out his pipe and came back to the front of the porch. “We’ll all accept that explanation,” he said. “But you animals! You’re Bean animals. You live on this farm. You’ve got a right to ask questions. Remember that.” Then he waved his hand to dismiss them.

  “Three cheers for Mr. and Mrs. Bean
,” Freddy called, and the animals cheered.

  “I think it would be nice if you gave three cheers for Brother Aaron, too,” said Mrs. Bean. So they gave them, too, but they were pretty limp cheers.

  When they were back in the barn, Freddy said: “I guess there is nothing more we can do right now. How many of you believe Mr. Doty’s explanation?”

  A number of the smaller animals put up their paws, and Mrs. Wiggins’ sister, Mrs. Wogus, raised a hoof. When some of those who had put up paws saw that, they put them down again, because everybody knew that Mrs. Wogus wasn’t very bright, and was almost certain to be wrong.

  “Oh, well,” said Freddy, “you have a right to your own opinions. Personally I think Doty made the whole thing up. He’s pretty good at making up excuses, you know. I don’t think Garble is the kind of man who would pay for a long distance call from somebody he didn’t know, or would send money to a stranger. I think he knew Doty before. But I can’t prove it. Mr. Doty was too smart for us this time. But give me a few days, and maybe I can find out some things.”

  “Give Doty a few days, you mean,” said Jinx angrily, “so he’ll get the money and beat it. We ought to run him off the place!”

  A good many of the animals agreed, but Freddy said: “That wouldn’t do any good. You know how honest the Beans are. As long as Mrs. Bean thinks Mr. Doty is her brother, she’ll give him the money, and whether he’s in a deal with Garble makes no difference to her. Even if we proved him a crook, he’s still her brother and so entitled to the money.”

  So Mrs. Wiggins declared the meeting adjourned, and the animals all went back home.

  Chapter 6

  Next afternoon Freddy started to walk down to Centerboro. It was a cool fall day, and as he trotted along briskly he began to compose a poem for the next issue of the Bean Home News. He was writing a series on The Features, and had already done the nose and ears, so he thought he would do one about the mouth. But each time, after two or three lines, Mr. Doty kept coming into it. The first one went: