Freddy the Magician

by Walter R. Brooks

  “Well, what are you going to do with Louie?” Freddy asked.

  “I guess,” said the sheriff, “he’ll have to go. Can’t have a thief in my jail.”

  “My goodness,” Freddy said, “most of ’em are here because they’re thieves, aren’t they?”

  The sheriff admitted that was so. “But just the same,” he said—“oh, you know what it is, Freddy. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

  “Harder than about the pies,” said the pig. “Yes, but I do know what you mean. He’s being punished for being a thief by being put in jail. But it’s against the rules, kind of, for him to go on being a thief while he’s being punished.”

  “That’s right. If he’s allowed to go on stealing here, what becomes of the punishment?”

  Freddy grinned. “What becomes of it anyway in this jail?”

  “You tell me,” said the sheriff. “Oh, well, it keeps ’em out of mischief. How about splitting one of those other pies before you start back?”

  On Tuesday morning Freddy hitched Hank up to the old phaeton, into which he loaded all his magic paraphernalia, and then he and Jinx and Minx and Presto got in and drove to Centerboro. Minx had just come in from the West Coast the night before on a fast freight, and she had kept Jinx up all night telling him about her experiences. In spite of that, she was as fresh as ever, and she chattered and bragged until Freddy, who wanted a little peace and quiet to plan out that evening’s performance, asked her if she didn’t think she ought to sit back and rest a while.

  “Mercy, no; I’m not tired!” she said. “And I know how anxious you are to hear about all my wonderful experiences! Hollywood—ah, what a marvelous place, Freddy! You know I was in the movies last winter. I was selected from forty others to play opposite Gregory Peck in one of the big scenes in his new picture. Such a charming man! I sat on his lap and he scratched my ears.”

  “Wish he’d pulled out your tongue,” Jinx grumbled.

  Minx gave an amused little mew. “That’s my loving brother speaking, Freddy. And yet you are proud of me, aren’t you, Jinxie?—in spite of the awful things you say.”

  Jinx gave an exasperated snarl. “Don’t call me Jinxie!” he said. He glared at her for a moment, then jumped over into the back seat and got into the box he was to be sawed in two in and shut the lid.

  “Isn’t he cute?” said Minx indulgently. “You know, he’s really awfully fond of me, only he just hates to let anyone see it.”

  “Yeah,” Freddy said. “If he was any fonder of you he’d probably cut your throat.”

  “Oh, you!” Minx tapped him playfully on his shoulder with her paw. And then she went on with anecdotes of her brother’s cuteness when he was a kitten that made Jinx squirm inside the box almost as much as if he was really being sawed in two.

  When they reached the movie theatre, and had unloaded the stuff and carried it back onto the stage, and Minx had gone out to take a walk and look over the town, Freddy said: “You know, Jinx, I’d forgotten what a conversationalist your sister is.”

  “Conversationalist!” the cat exclaimed. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you say what you really mean.”

  “Well, she is kind of a nuisance,” Freddy said. “But we need her help for the magic performance. And you’ll admit it was nice of her to be so willing to give it.”

  “Willing?” Jinx said. “To get out on a stage in front of a lot of people? She’d claw her best friend’s eyes out for the chance. And watch out, Freddy—she’ll steal the show if you aren’t careful.” He sighed deeply. “And I’ve got her on my hands for a week!”

  “You know,” said Freddy, “I’ve got an idea. Yes, sir, I believe it will work. I believe I can figure out a scheme to keep her from saying a word all week.”

  “If you can do that,” said the cat, “you’re some magician all right. Only I don’t see how …”

  But Freddy wouldn’t tell him how. “You leave it to me,” he said.

  Freddy and Presto and Jinx worked all day to get the stage set for the show, and Freddy put on his magician’s coat and rehearsed his tricks several times to be sure that they went smoothly. At noon they went to Dixon’s Diner and had lunch. Judge Willey came in just as they were leaving.

  The judge shook hands with Jinx, and with Freddy, whom he addressed as “my learned friend,” and then Presto was introduced to him. He looked sharply at the rabbit. “Ah yes, the conjuror’s rabbit,” he said. “And how is the good Signor Zingo?”

  “I really don’t know, sir,” said Presto. “We—we had a disagreement; we don’t see each other any more.”

  “That’s odd,” said the judge. “Haven’t you called on him recently at the hotel? I saw you coming out through the lobby—let me see, a week ago yesterday, and I naturally assumed you’d been to see him.”

  “What’s that?” Freddy asked, turning to frown at the rabbit. “That was the day we found the hat, and you disappeared in the afternoon.”

  “It wasn’t me,” said Presto. “Probably he’s advertised that he wants to hire another rabbit to take my place, and this was an applicant for the job.”

  “Possibly,” said the judge. He looked hard at Freddy and gave his head a slight shake which said plainly: “No, it was this rabbit all right.” Then he said good afternoon and went on.

  Freddy was disturbed. If Presto was seeing Zingo on the sly, there was something very queer going on. Perhaps Signor Zingo had never really fired the rabbit at all; perhaps … But no use thinking about it now. The show, said Freddy to himself like a good trouper, must go on.

  Chapter 8

  And on it went. Presto had suggested that it might be a good idea if, before the curtain went up, he were to come out and make a short speech, introducing Professor Frederico, and giving some facts about how famous he was and so on. He said it was customary at such performances, and Freddy said that if it was customary, then it was the thing to do. So at eight o’clock sharp, Presto hopped out in front of the curtain and addressed the audience.

  Freddy didn’t listen very attentively to the speech. He was peeking at the audience through a hole in the curtain. The lights were still on of course in the body of the house, and he could see that every seat was taken, and Mr. Muszkiski was setting up folding chairs in the aisles for latecomers who were still straggling in. In the middle of the front row were Mr. and Mrs. Bean, in their best clothes, looking very proud and pleased; and beside them were all the small animals, who of course would not be able to see anything if they had seats farther back. Charles and Henrietta were there, and Georgie, and Robert, the collie, and Alice and Emma, the two ducks, with their Uncle Wesley, and Sniffy Wilson, the skunk, with his family, and a dozen others. And in the crowded rows behind them Freddy picked out one by one the faces of friends. Everybody was there: Judge Willey and the sheriff, and Mr. Weezer and Mrs. Peppercorn and Dr. Winterpool and Mr. Beller and Freddy’s old friend, Mrs. Winfield Church. And in the back seats were the larger animals: the three cows and Peter, the bear, and his cousins, and Hank, as well as a number of friends from neighboring farms. It would take ten pages to list all the faces that Freddy recognized, to say nothing of strangers.

  Freddy was too old a hand at public appearances to be bothered by stage fright. But he had never done his tricks before an audience. He had practiced them until he felt that they were about perfect, but only before a looking glass, with Presto to make suggestions. And if he slipped up on just one of them …

  “Hey!” said Jinx, who was standing beside him. “Listen—listen to that rabbit! You’ve got to do something, Freddy—quick!”

  “And so, ladies and gentlemen,” Presto was saying, “in view of the astounding nature of his feats, and to prove to you that they are really magic and not mere tricks, Professor Frederico offers to anyone who can duplicate, or even explain any one of them a prize of five dollars in cash. Five dollars, ladies, gentlemen and animals, for each and every …”

  “O lordy, lordy,” Freddy said, “what is the matter with the idiot!”
He tugged at the bottom of the heavy curtain, trying to lift it so he could get out in front and stop the rabbit, who was now repeating the offer.

  “Have to go around,” said Jinx. “You go that way and I’ll go this, and boy, what I’ll do to that lop-eared pest—”

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Presto was saying, “I introduce to you that master of magic, mystification and mummery, that prince of prestidigitators, that dauntless detective, that peerless poetic pig, Professor Frederico.”

  And at that moment Freddy did indeed appear. He came tearing across the front of the stage from one side, and Jinx came bounding from the other. Presto’s ears went down with a snap; he gave a terrified squeal and leaped right over the footlights into the audience, and went skittering and scrambling up under people’s feet towards the door.

  He gave a terrified squeal and leaped right over the footlights.…

  “Stop that animal!” Freddy shouted.

  Everybody laughed and applauded, for of course they thought it was all part of the show. And then: “We’ve got him!” somebody called, and Peter came down the aisle holding the struggling Presto in one huge paw.

  “Just take charge of him till the show’s over, will you, Peter?” Freddy said. Then he motioned for the lights in the house to go down and the curtain to go up.

  Jinx had gone back and was standing with his forelegs folded beside the sawing-in-two box, in the correct position for a magician’s assistant. Freddy, as he smiled and bowed, was thinking hard. How could he withdraw the dreadful offer that Presto had made? It would make a terribly bad impression, and even though probably nobody in the audience had any hope of exposing one of the tricks, everybody would feel disappointed and let down.

  And then Freddy saw that he would have to let the offer stand. He was pretty sure to lose some money on it, but a lot of tickets had been sold at the box office and enough money had been taken in over and above the rent of the theatre and other expenses to give him a nice profit. And so without saying anything he started his performance.

  Everything went well at first. He made coins and other small objects disappear and he made a glass go through a solid table, and did one or two other tricks which were heartily applauded.

  Then he took off his silk hat and put it down on the stage with the brim up close to the footlights. This of course was his own silk hat which you may remember he had borrowed from a scarecrow in the course of some detective work a year or so before. He took out a handkerchief and waved it around to show that it had nothing in it. “My invisible hen,” he said, “will now lay an egg for you in my hat. Come, Mabel!”

  “Praaaaawk! Kut, kut, kut, kut,” said the invisible hen. Freddy said afterwards that imitating a hen was the hardest part of the trick.

  “Thank you, Mabel; I knew you’d oblige,” he said. He folded the handkerchief around one trotter, held it as if the hen was sitting on it, shook it gently, and an egg dropped out into the hat.

  The audience clapped, and Henrietta, who was naturally much interested, fluttered up and perched on the edge of the stage. “Let me see that egg,” she said.

  “Now you lay one, Henrietta,” Sniffy Wilson called. But Freddy lifted up the handkerchief and shoved the hat towards her.

  Henrietta gave a cluck of amazement. “There’s no egg here!”

  “Invisible hens naturally lay invisible eggs,” said Freddy. “But kindly resume your seat and I will have Mabel lay another one.”

  “Let me try, Professor,” said a voice, and down the aisle came Signor Zingo in his redlined cape, with a superior smile on his thin lips.

  “Oh, dear!” said Freddy to himself. “Here goes five bucks! So that’s what Presto was up to.” But he put as good a face upon it as possible. He shook hands with Signor Zingo, and said: “Welcome! I am very pleased to have so distinguished a colleague on the same platform with me.”

  “You won’t be pleased when I get through with you,” the magician murmured; then he smiled and said: “Thank you, my friend. You are very gracious. May I have that handkerchief?” And when Freddy resigned it to him he held it up by the corners. And everyone saw that suspended from the middle of the upper side by a thread was an egg. But of course it was only a shell, for Freddy had pierced it at both ends and then blown out the contents.

  “The trick is done in this way,” he said. “When you show the handkerchief, the egg is in your hand. You fold the handkerchief over the egg, shake it, and the egg drops out. Then you pull it back into the handkerchief and show that the hat is empty. Have I earned my five dollars?”

  “Mrs. Wiggins,” Freddy called, “pay Signor Zingo five dollars when he leaves.”

  The magician showed his teeth in a malicious smile, and swept a deep bow. “Thank you, Professor. And now may I demonstrate my invisible hen?” He folded the handkerchief, knelt beside the hat, and one after another six eggs dropped into it. He took them out and laid them on the stage. “And now Professor Frederico will explain that trick, and I will pay him back his five dollars, and another five to go with it.”

  Well, of course Freddy knew that the eggs had been brought out from some secret pocket in Zingo’s clothing, but it was quite impossible for him to explain the trick. He looked out at the audience. The faces that he could see looked pleased and interested; evidently they still thought all this was part of the show and arranged for beforehand.

  But Zingo had underestimated the pig’s resourcefulness. Freddy smiled and said: “Thank you, Signor Zingo. But I prefer not to explain it. What I would like to explain however, ladies and gentlemen, in case you think my refusal is due to ignorance, is that no reputable magician will ever disclose to the public how his, or any other magician’s tricks are done. The secrets of the profession are carefully and jealously guarded. You will understand why. Once you explain the tricks, there is nothing to perform. No respectable magician will ever disclose them, for he is taking away his own livelihood and that of his colleagues, throwing dozens of magicians out of work, and destroying an honorable profession which has given millions of people a great deal of pleasure.

  “And now, sir,” he said, turning to Zingo, “if you will step down the performance will go on.”

  The audience, which had at first thought that Signor Zingo had really come up to help Freddy, began to catch on to what he was up to, and there was a roar of applause, and shouts of “Good old Freddy!” “Keep it up, pig; we’re with you!” And Peter the bear lumbered down the aisle, with Presto still clutched in his paw, and said: “Want me to show you how I make a magician disappear?”

  But Freddy shook his head. “No. We’ll just go on.”

  Signor Zingo was furious. To be accused of breaking the unwritten laws of his profession was a serious charge. But he had had too much stage experience to lose his temper openly. He held up a hand and the uproar died down. “Professor Frederico is quite correct,” he said. “But he failed to draw the distinction between the very simple and rather childish tricks which everyone can do, and the really difficult feats which only a few top flight magicians have the secret of. There are books on simple magic; this hen trick is in all of them, and I have therefore disclosed no secret. But as for the difficult tricks—well, let me show you one.”

  “Excuse me,” said Freddy, who was getting good and mad, “but is this your show or mine? If it’s yours, I’ll step down and you go on.”

  Zingo looked out at the audience. He realized that they were not with him. There was a sprinkling of strangers, who looked pleased and expectant, as if they would be glad to have him take over, but the majority glared angrily at him. Mr. Bean’s whiskers were fluttering, and it was plain that he was saying uncomplimentary things behind them, and Sniffy Wilson had beckoned to his family and they had got up and started towards the gangway that led up to the stage.

  The evening might have been pleasanter in the end if Zingo had taken over the stage. The animals would have thrown him out and Freddy’s show would have gone on. But the magician didn’t really
want to steal the show, even though he felt sure that he could swing the audience over to his side. He had other plans for the evening. So he bowed to Freddy and said:

  “I beg your pardon, sir. I will step down at once.” Then he paused. “But your offer still stands, of course?”

  “Of course!” Freddy snapped.

  So Signor Zingo went back to his seat in the rear of the hall and the show went on.

  Chapter 9

  Of course Freddy had intended to have both Presto and Jinx with him on the stage, as assistants. The rabbit, who knew all the tricks, would hand him things at the right moment and attract the audience’s attention when he was doing something he didn’t want them to see, and would be a big help. But with only Jinx to help him, Freddy knew that things wouldn’t go as well. And of course they didn’t.

  But although he made a lot of mistakes, Jinx turned out to be a better assistant than the rabbit, for he overacted and clowned and behaved so outrageously that the audience was delighted with him. When Freddy did a trick, Jinx would be so astonished that he would fall over backward in a faint, or he would screech and run right up the scenery; and when Freddy held out something for him to take, he would crouch, lashing his tail and snarling, and then make a wild leap for it. As Mrs. Bean said afterwards to Mr. Bean: “That cat is a whole show in himself. And I’m going to give him half a pint of cream when we get home, and don’t you try to stop me, Mr. B.!”

  But Signor Zingo was still there. After about every other trick he would come up on the stage and explain how it was done, and then do it better, and Freddy would have to promise him another five dollars. By the time the show was half over he was sixty dollars ahead—and that was already as much as Freddy figured he was going to make out of the performance.

  The audience was by now really hostile to the magician. They hooted and hissed when he walked down the aisle, and Judge Willey, who had an end seat, even stuck his foot out and tripped him up once when he was coming back from the stage. But Freddy came to Signor Zingo’s assistance. He knew that, whatever it cost, he had to be a good sport and stick to the offer that had been made in his name. So he hammered on the table and called for silence. “Signor Zingo is quite within his rights,” he shouted. “I must ask you to give him your attention.”