Freddy and Simon the Dictator (14 page)

The country around Centerboro, and indeed through much of the state, was in a bad way. Up in the Indian village, Freddy had not actually realized how far the revolution had gone. But when they started for Centerboro in Wiggling Snake's car, he became pretty frightened.

They saw several abandoned cars, and by them, the shoulders of the pavement and the ditches were cut up by the hoofs of animals. Farther on, they came round a curve and a flock of sheep jammed the space between the fences. Beyond the sheep, a small truck stood in the middle of the road. Some of the sheep faced around and glared menacingly at Mr. Camphor and Bannister. Bannister muttered: “I wish we didn't have those lamb chops in the freezer, sir.”

But Jinx hopped out, and the sheep made way for him. A man stuck his head out of the truck and shouted: “Hey, what's the matter with these critters? They been trying to climb in here and bite me.”

“Better turn around and go back,” said Jinx.

The man started to say something else, and then he said: “Holy smoke, look at that!” And pointed across the fields.

A man was standing on a rock in the middle of a hayfield and laying about him with a hoe. Around him, the grass kept moving, and now and then small brownish animals came into sight as they leaped up towards him.

“Rabbits, by cramps!” yelled the man in the truck. He jammed on the accelerator and, knocking aside one or two sheep, backed around and roared off down the road.

At one place, a mob of cows was shoving stones and dirt and fence rails on to the pavement to make a road block, and they had to detour through the fields. And then they came to a farm owned by a man named Coombs. A big herd of cows was milling about the house, and several of them, led by a huge bull, were trying to break down the back door. They were butting it and pounding it with their hoofs. And then around the corner of the house came a collie. He didn't waste any time barking. He went for those cows, driving them, nipping at their legs, dodging when they tried to hook him. In a few minutes, he had them herded and headed for the barn. The bull faced him for a moment, bellowing and pawing the ground, but the dog gave two or three sharp barks and the bull suddenly turned tail and ran for the barn.

“Good gracious,” said Freddy, “did you see that? Those cows were actually scared to death of that dog. If they'd ganged up on him, they could have hooked and trampled him and driven him off.”

“They've been trained for generations to run from dogs,” said Wiggling Snake. “Even though they know they're stronger, they're afraid.”

“I wonder how many of the dogs are loyal,” said Freddy thoughtfully.

“Most of them,” said the Indian. “They've been trained in the same way.”

“Golly,” Freddy said, “that gives me an idea. I believe I know how we can break this revolution. We've got Garble. Now if we can capture Simon, all these cows are our chief problem, and I know how to lick that.”

“How about the wolves?” Mr. Camphor asked. Still in his war paint, he looked more like an Indian than the Indians themselves.

Freddy said: “The chief tells me that if we can get rid of the leaders of the revolt, it will be easy to drive the wolves back where they came from.”

“That's right,” Wiggling Snake said. “Wolves are cowards. Even a pack of a dozen will run from a man with a gun. You leave the wolves to us. You know, summer people will pay good prices for wolf skins.”

“People have been brought up on stories about the big bad wolf,” said Running Deer, “but actually the big bad wolf is a sneaking henhouse robber. Simon knows that; he's got the wolves for window dressing. Strictly for shudders.”

In Centerboro, Freddy bought some pieces of heavy wire mesh at the hardware store, and then got a friend of his, a Mr. Smith, a plumber, to bring certain equipment out to Mr. Camphor's. There, Mr. Smith welded the wire mesh into a sort of cage that fitted under the seat and between the legs of the armchair that stood at the head of Mr. Camphor's dining-room table. The lid of the cage opened inward, like the leaves of a double door when you pulled a string.

They cut out the bottom of the armchair so that anyone sitting in it sat directly on the lid of the cage, and then they took it into the big drawing room and draped it like a throne, with a red plush curtain. In the meantime, Mr. Camphor had gone up into the attic and found some gold paper, which he cut into the shape of a crown.

The preparations were only barely ready when one of the wasps left on guard at the gate came and reported that Simon and Ezra, with two wolves, were just coming in the gate.

Besides the committee and Miss Anguish, there were half a dozen refugee farmers in the house. Freddy seated them in chairs around the other end of the room, and warned them to be as quiet as possible. There was silence for several minutes, then the door opened and Jinx entered, followed by two huge wolves, and then by Simon and his eldest son, Ezra. Jinx walked backward, bowing at every other step. When he reached the throne, he stood aside and motioned towards it.

“Will your Excellency,” he said solemnly, “deign to be seated?”

Simon paused. He looked round—at the solemn farmers, at the puzzled committee, at the Indians who filed in and closed the door behind them.

“Who are these people?” he demanded, indicating the latter.

“Your very loyal subjects, your Excellency,” said Jinx. “They only wish to ask to be allowed to live in peace in the forest, as they always have.”

“We will take up their case later,” said Simon. “Is Mr. Garble here?”

“Mr. Garble seems to have been delayed,” said the cat. “We expect him any minute. In the meantime may we proceed, your Excellency, to the little ceremony which we have prepared? Freddy—”

Freddy stepped forward. He was carrying the gold paper crown. “Your Eminence—” he began.

But Simon brushed the crown aside with a snarl. “What are you trying to do—make a monkey of me?” he demanded. Then remembering that he was after all a dictator over a great number of subjects, he said: “You forget, I think, that although I am your leader, I am still a plain citizen, and I like plain titles. All this pomp and ceremony—”

“Forgive me, Excellency,” said Freddy, “but in ruling a nation, pomp and ceremony are necessary. The ruler of an empire is not, and cannot be, a plain citizen. He must submit to being placed on a pedestal, to being seated on a throne. Only thus can he receive the proper respect, the honor which his followers delight to give him.” And stepping forward quickly, he pressed the gold paper crown firmly down on Simon's head.

The rat sensed that Freddy was making fun of him, but all the bowing and scraping and flattery had tickled his vanity, and in spite of himself, he was very pleased. And then Freddy whispered to him. “You've got to put on the dog,” murmured the pig. “Your subjects want a king to act like a king. Come on; here's a chance to make an impression. Make a speech. Pass a couple of laws.”

“Maybe you're right,” said the rat, and Freddy could see that he was anxious to be convinced. Then he got up into the chair, trying to look as kingly and ferocious as he could. “Friends and loyal subjects,” he began—and then Freddy pulled the string, there was a click, and with an alarmed squeak, Simon vanished.

For a minute, there was complete silence in the room.

“Dear me,” said Miss Anguish, “what an amusing trick!”

Then as an angry chattering broke out under the folds of curtain beneath the chair, the two wolves made a dive for Freddy. But the pig stood his ground. “Take it easy, boys,” he said, and pointed towards the door. Two of the Indians had slipped out and now popped back in again, holding guns. At the sight of firearms, the wolves dashed for the window and leaped through, taking the screen with them. Ezra scrambled after them. And Freddy went up to the chair and pulled off the red curtain, revealing Simon, imprisoned in the small cage.

Simon was practically foaming with rage, but Freddy paid no attention to his remarks. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said the pig, “let me present to you that noble figure, that magnificent conqueror, Simon the Dictator. Come on, Simon, speak to the gentlemen, and stop that silly chattering. Let us hear and tremble at your imperial squeak.”

Simon controlled himself with difficulty. “I don't know what good you think this is going to do you,” he snarled. “Let me out of here or you'll regret it, pig.”

“Sorry, old boy,” Freddy replied. “I guess you'll just have to stay there till your revolution goes pop. Bannister, will you get a chair to stand on and hang that cage up on the chandelier?” So the butler stood on a chair and hung the cage on the chandelier.

Although he was only a rat, the farmers and the committee members were afraid of Simon, or at least of the power he had over all the other animals. But when he was safely hung in his cage from the chandelier, they began to laugh at his threats. Freddy and Jinx didn't laugh as hard as the others. They knew Simon for a tough and wily old scoundrel. If he were to escape, they knew that he would have no mercy on those who had imprisoned and ridiculed him.

They knew too that it wouldn't be as easy to break him down as it had Mr. Garble. He was too smart. He wouldn't be fooled by any threats of burning at the stake. But Freddy had an idea, and after consulting with his friends, he spoke to Simon. “We don't quite know what to do with you, Simon, old Excellency. A sea voyage would probably be the thing, to calm you down and settle your nerves. We can't, of course, arrange that for you, but we can provide you with an imitation which will have, we hope, much the same effect.” And taking hold of the string that hung down from the cage, he set it swinging gently. “We hope, of course, that you are not subject to seasickness.”

Simon held out longer than they expected. The to-and-fro motion didn't seem to bother him much, and he went right on swearing at them and threatening until Bannister climbed up on the chair and set the cage spinning as it swung. The combination of motions was too much for the rat. His voice got weaker and weaker, and then he lay down on the bottom of the cage and closed his eyes. But at last, he gave in.

“Stop it!” he moaned. “Stop it and I'll do anything you want.”

“Right now we don't want you to do anything but just stay here and be Dictator, your Excellency,” said Freddy. “Bannister can come in every half hour or so and give you a few swings, so you won't be bored.”

“What good does it do you to torture me?” Simon said. “You can't stop the revolution by keeping me prisoner. It's gone too far. Zeke and Ezra and the rest of the rats will carry on, and with Mr. Garble to advise them—”

“Mr. Garble isn't advising anybody,” said Freddy. “He's still a prisoner. No, your jolly old Majesty, just take it easy and enjoy the voyage. Bannister, I think the ocean is becoming a little too calm.”

So before they left, Bannister gave the cage another swing.

CHAPTER

14

To the consternation of Freddy and Jinx, the imprisonment of Simon and Mr. Garble had little effect on the course of the revolution, which spun along under its own steam. The newspapers published the story of Simon's capture, but Ezra proclaimed himself dictator in his father's place, and farm after farm continued to be taken over without resistance. The Governor had a regiment of soldiers sent into the area, but there wasn't anybody to shoot at; only animals grazing quietly in the fields. The wolves faded off into the woods, and the other animals refrained from violent acts while the soldiers were in the vicinity. There was nothing for them to do.

The Camphor house was in a state of siege. The Indians stayed on and their guns kept the wolves at a distance, but such supplies as were needed had to be fetched from Centerboro under armed convoy. Fortunately, there was a large quantity of food stored in the house. The committee wanted to get back to their homes, but there was no way of taking them there. They had finally run out of funny stories, and this made them cross and snappish, as there was nothing else to talk about. Only Miss Anguish seemed to be enjoying herself; she read and crocheted, and spent a good deal of time talking with Simon, where he hung from the drawing-room chandelier. He tried every way he could think of to get round her and persuade her to set him free, but she always managed to refuse on some pretext or other.