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Authors: Walter R. Brooks

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“All ready, Hank,” said Robert. “We're all here. Next stop is Home. One, two, three—
go!
” And away they went out of the gate and up the road with a rattle of flying stones, as fast as Hank could gallop, with the dogs and Freddy running alongside, and Mrs. Wiggins thundering along behind, while all the smaller animals hung on for dear life with beaks and bills and claws.

Now, the man had not found anything upstairs, and he began to suspect that a trick had been played on him. When he heard the rattle of wheels and the thud of flying hoofs, he was sure of it. He didn't say anything then to the boy for leaving the gold unguarded; he would give him his licking for that later, he thought. He rushed downstairs to the dining-room, and sure enough, the bag was gone. Then he ran to the door, just in time to see the last part of Mrs. Wiggins going through the gate.

“Get your clothes on!” he yelled to the boy, giving him a cuff on the ear. “It's the animals. I might have known it! But we can catch them if we hurry. They forgot that we had an automobile.”

Now it was easy enough for them to get their clothes on, but it wasn't at all easy to keep them on, for the mice had gnawed all the buttons off. They worked and worked at them for a long time, and finally had to fasten them together with pins. And that didn't work very well either, for every time they moved, the pins stuck into them and made them yell. Then when they were all ready, they couldn't find their shoes at all, so they went out finally in their stocking-feet, and cranked up their rickety old automobile and started in pursuit.

By this time the animals had got a pretty good start. But as they began to climb the hill on the other side of the valley, they looked over their shoulders, and far off down the road they could see the two little lights of the pursuing automobile growing bigger and bigger, and they could hear, plainer and plainer, the rattle and pop of the engine, as the man with the black moustache drove furiously on their trail.

“I don't know as we'll make it,” panted Hank.

“We've
got
to make it,” said Robert. “Keep going for all you're worth.”

But as they went on, it grew plainer and plainer that they couldn't make it, for the automobile was travelling twice as fast as they were. And just as they got to the bridge where they had slept the night before, Hank slowed down to a walk.

“It's no use,” he said. “I can't run up this hill. Can't we turn off and hide in the woods?”

“Not with a carriage,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “But Hank, you go on, and I'll stay here on the bridge and keep them back. Go as fast as you can, and I'll overtake you if I can before you get home. And wait: I want the mice to stay, too. I think they can help.”

At first the animals wouldn't consent to leave her behind. “We'll stay and fight it out beside you,” they said. But she said no, she had a good plan, and they'd only spoil it if they stayed. So they said good-bye sorrowfully, and went on, leaving Mrs. Wiggins and the mice to hold the bridge.

As soon as they were gone, Mrs. Wiggins set to work. She pushed down the railings at the side of the bridge with her horns and tore up some of the boards and piled them all in the middle. Then she and the mice sat down behind a bush and waited. Pretty soon the automobile came bounding up the hill, rattling as if it would fall to pieces the next minute. And at every bound the man and the boy let out a great yell as the pins with which their clothes were fastened together stuck into them.

Just in time the man saw the pile of boards, and he slammed on the brakes and stopped so quickly that he and his son flew right out over the front and landed sitting down on the bridge. And at once they let out a piercing yell, for all the pins had stuck into them at the same time. Then they got up and began clearing away the boards.

“Now, mice,” whispered Mrs. Wiggins, “out with you, and do as I told you.” And the mice crept out, and each one of them climbed up on a tire, and they set to work with their sharp little teeth to nibble holes through the hard rubber.

“Pretty tough gnawing,” squeaked Eeny.

“Keep at it, brothers,” chirped Quik. “Everything depends on us now.”

But the tires were very hard, and before any of them had made deep enough holes to let the air out, the boards were cleared away and the man started up his engine. Then the mice had to jump down, and Mrs. Wiggins got up and lowered her head and shook her horns and prepared to charge at the enemy. But just as the automobile started slowly across the bridge, and just as she was about to gallop out and try to tumble it over into the water below—pingggg! went the left front tire, and fizz-wizz-wizz-wizz! went the right front tire, and the other two tires blew up with a bang, and the automobile wobbled and came to a standstill. For though the mice hadn't gnawed all the way through the tires, they had weakened them so that they gave way as soon as the automobile started.

Then the man with the black moustache knew that his chance was gone, and that he couldn't overtake the animals and get back the gold. For quite a little while he stood staring mournfully up the road. But he was a practical man, which means that he believed in doing
something
immediately, even if it wasn't anything very useful. So he picked up a piece of board and took the dirty-faced boy across his knee and gave him a good licking. And then he turned round and walked home in his stocking-feet.

XXI

Early the next morning the head of Mr. Bean, the farmer, appeared at his bedroom window. The fresh morning breeze swung the red tassel of his white cotton night-cap and waved his bushy, grey whiskers. He was looking out to see what kind of a day it was going to be.

“My goodness!” said Mr. Bean. “It's nearly six o'clock! I certainly do miss that rooster! I haven't been up on time one single morning since he left.”

He dressed quickly and went downstairs and out into the cow barn and gave Mrs. Wurzburger and Mrs. Wogus their breakfasts, and then he fed the chickens and the pigs and William, the horse, and the other animals. Jock, the wise old collie, went along with him.

Pretty soon Mrs. Bean rang the breakfast bell, and he went in and sat down at the table and tucked his napkin under his chin and had coffee and pancakes and hot biscuit and ham and eggs and oatmeal and two kinds of jam. And when he had had enough, he pushed back his chair and lit his pipe, taking care not to set fire to his whiskers with the match.

Then he said: “Mrs. Bean, I don't know how you feel about it, but I certainly should like to have those animals back again. It seems sort of lonesome here this nice spring weather without Robert and Hank and Mrs. Wiggins and all the rest of them.”

“Mr. Bean,” said his wife, “I have heard you say that every morning after breakfast since the animals went away. And I will reply as I always reply: I miss them too, especially Jinx. He was a nice cat.”

“I've sometimes thought,” said Mr. Bean, “that maybe they wouldn't have gone away if I had been nicer to them.”

“You was always a kind man to your animals, Mr. Bean,” his wife replied.

“Yes,” he said. “I try to be. I gave them plenty to eat and didn't work them too hard, but after all I didn't make them as comfortable as I might. All their houses needed repairing, and they were pretty draughty and cold in the winter-time.”

“Well, we didn't have the money to fix them up,” said his wife.

“That's true. That's true,” said Mr. Bean with a sigh. And for some time neither of them said anything.

Then all at once, out in the barn-yard, Jock began to bark and the hens began to cackle and the cows mooed and the ducks quacked and the pigs squealed; and Mr. Bean jumped up and ran to the window. “What on earth is the matter?” he exclaimed, and then: “Wife! Wife!” he cried. “Here they are! Here are the animals back! Come out! Come out into the yard!” And out they rushed to welcome the wanderers.

All the animals who had stayed at home lined up on either side of the gate to welcome them. First came Charles and Henrietta, wing in wing, and then came Jinx, proudly waving his red tail, and then Freddy and Jack and Robert. And behind them came the phaeton, drawn by Hank. And Mrs. Wiggins, with Alice and Emma and the four mice on her back, brought up the rear. They marched in the gate and went three times around the barn-yard, while the animals and Mr. and Mrs. Bean cheered themselves hoarse. And then they stopped the phaeton directly in front of Mr. Bean, and Robert jumped into it and, with the help of Jack and Mrs. Wiggins, tumbled the bag of gold out on the ground.

“What on earth!” Mr. Bean exclaimed, and he bent down and untied the bag, and out rolled a stream of bright yellow coins. “Gold!” he cried. “Twenty-dollar gold pieces! Why, here's thousands of dollars! Enough to build twenty new barns if we want 'em! And you brought all this back to me!” He stood motionless for a minute, and then he snatched off his night-cap (which he still had on), and threw it up in the air and grabbed Mrs. Bean round the waist and waltzed her around the barn-yard until they were both so dizzy they had to stop. And all the animals cheered and danced round too. Then Mr. and Mrs. Bean went round and hugged all the animals, even the mice, who were very happy, but scared all the same to be hugged so hard. And when the alarm-clock and the shawl and the other things they had brought back with them had been admired, Mr. Bean made a speech.

“Animals and friends,” he said, “I thank you a thousand times for this magnificent and munificent gift. Had you brought me back nothing but yourselves, I should have been more than happy, but since you have brought me wealth as well, I intend that you shall share in its benefits. You shall have new homes, fitted with all the modern conveniences. The workmen shall start on them to-morrow, and Mrs. Bean and I will draw the plans for them to-night. Those of you who work regularly shall work in the future no more than six hours a day, and when, as is sometimes necessary, either Hank or William works longer than that, he shall have an extra measure of oats, with sugar, for each hour of overtime. Since I have an alarm-clock, Charles may sleep as late as he wishes in the morning. I will have electric lights strung up over the duck pond, as well as in the various houses, and a small house will also be built for the mice. And perhaps next winter we can all go south together.

“And now, my friends, you are no doubt anxious to greet your relatives and talk over your adventures by flood and field; so to-day we will do no more work, but will celebrate it as a holiday in honour of your home-coming. No doubt, too, you are hungry, and Mrs. Bean will go in and prepare a feast for you, while I set to work on the plans for your new quarters. Again I thank you, my friends, from the bottom of my heart.”

That night, when the celebration was over, and the animals had all gone to bed, Freddy, the pig, who had eaten a great deal more than was good for him and consequently did not feel like sleeping, walked out into the moonlight.

“After all,” he said to himself, “it's exciting to travel and have adventures, but there's no place like home.” And he looked affectionately at the old familiar pig pen, where so many happy hours had been spent. And then he made up this song:

Oh, a life of adventure is gay and free
,

And danger has its charm;

And no pig of spirit will bound his life

By the fence on his master's farm
.

Yet there's no true pig but heaves a sigh

At the pleasant thought of the old home sty
.

But one tires at last of wandering
,

And the road grows steep and long
,

A treadmill round, where no peace is found
,

If one follows it overlong
.

And however they wander, both pigs and men

Are always glad to get home again
.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1949 by Walter R. Brooks

ISBN: 978-1-4976-9209-1

The Overlook Press

141 Wooster Street

New York, NY 10012

www.overlookpress.com

Distributed by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

BOOK: Freddy Goes to Florida
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