Freddy Plays Football (20 page)

“Golly,” said Freddy, “there's one game I don't want to play in! All those horns and teeth and claws flying around!”

“We're pretty careful,” said Bill. “We've made some extra rules, so I guess nobody'll get really killed. How'd you like to coach, if you won't play?”

But Freddy said no thanks and after watching a while he went back to the pig pen and got to work on the next issue of the Bean Home News.

Chapter 18

The next game with Tushville was to take place on the following Saturday. But on Wednesday the sheriff drove up to the farm. “Your trial's been put forward, Freddy,” he said. “Judge says he can hear it this afternoon. You'll have to come with me.”

“But I ought to go to school today,” said Freddy. “I haven't been in quite a while. And I won't be able to play in Saturday's game, either.”

“Too bad,” said the sheriff. “But being tried for a crime is a pretty good excuse for staying out of school. Come along.”

There was a big audience in the courtroom that afternoon to see Freddy tried for robbery. Most of them knew Freddy and many of them were his friends, but the general opinion seemed to be that a robbery, even if committed with the best of intentions, is not something that can be passed over with just a talking to. And so when Freddy was led in, closely guarded by the sheriff and two troopers with pistols, there was very little applause.

Freddy had persuaded Old Whibley to act as his lawyer to defend him. “But this is the last time,” he told Freddy. “I can't spend my life getting you out of trouble. If a person is a born fool, it is a waste of time helping him.” For the owl had defended him once before when Mrs. Underdunk had had him arrested for—she claimed—having tried to bite her. Everyone agreed that Old Whibley had handled the case in a masterly manner, and he had certainly made a monkey out of Mr. Garble, who had conducted the prosecution.

The first witness called was Mr. Weezer, and he told how, as the result of that phone call, he had given the five thousand dollars to Freddy at 10 A.M. on October 15th. As he mentioned the sum his glasses fell off, and the sheriff picked them up and handed them to him.

“You are certain that the pig that you handed the five thousand dollars to was this prisoner?” Old Whibley asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Weezer, who was groping for his glasses, which had again jumped off his nose. He put them on and looked at Freddy. “Yes, sir,” he said. “It was that pig there, Freddy.”

“How was he dressed?”

“Just as he is now,” said the bank president. For Freddy wore the school clothes, two sets of which he had bought for Weedly and himself at the Busy Bee.

“And what did you say to him when you handed him the five thousand dollars?” asked the owl.

Again the glasses fell off. Mr. Weezer caught them this time, put them on, said: “I told him: ‘Here is the five thousand dollars,'” and immediately caught them as they dropped off for the fourth time.

Judge Willey leaned forward. “How long have you worn glasses, Mr. Weezer?” he asked.

“About twenty-five years, your Honor.”

“Unless you are attempting to amuse the court with a juggling act,” said the judge testily, “I can only conclude that you are an amazingly slow learner. It seems to me that in a quarter of a century you could have worked out some way of keeping them on. In any case, we cannot have the trial interrupted by these continual bouncings and scrabblings. I suggest that you either hold them in place, or tie them on.”

So Mr. Weezer held them on.

“Now, Mr. Weezer,” said the owl, “it is a well known fact, is it not, that at the mention of any sum larger than ten dollars your glasses always fall off?”

Mr. Weezer said it was true.

“I will ask you,” Old Whibley went on, “if it is not true that at the moment when you handed the money to the person who you claim is the prisoner here, and mentioned the amount, your glasses fell off?”

“I don't remember,” said Mr. Weezer.

“Yet you remember mentioning five thousand dollars to this person?”

“Yes.”

“And do you say that your glasses did
not
fall off?”

“I—well, of course they must have.”

“Quite so,” said Whibley. “Now, do you see well without your glasses?”

“I can hardly see at all without them.”

“And yet you claim that although your glasses fell off at the very moment you handed this money to him, you recognized this pig as the person to whom you gave it. Is that so?”

“Well,” said Mr. Weezer, “I—”

“Answer yes or no,” snapped the owl.

“Well—yes, of course I did.” Mr. Weezer took out the handkerchief with the initials and dollar signs on it and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

Old Whibley looked up at the judge. “I submit, your Honor,” he said, “that Mr. Weezer, for whom I have the greatest respect”—he bowed to the banker—“was mistaken. In the course of his business, which has exclusively to do with money, his glasses are, I suggest, as often in the air or on the floor, as on his nose. He cannot therefore rely greatly on his eyesight, and must be forced very often to guess at what he sees. I suggest that he guessed at the identity of the person to whom, in this case, he gave the money.”

The judge shook his head. “I don't think you have proved your point.”

“In connection with the evidence of a witness whom I am now about to call,” said the owl, “I propose to carry my proof one step further. I will call Mr. Metacarpus, manager of that sterling emporium, the Busy Bee.”

Mr. Metacarpus walked up to the witness box slowly with his hands behind his back, blowing out his big moustache from time to time, and bowing to right and left—“Good afternoon, madam. A lovely day, sir, but cool; topcoats one flight up”—as he did in the store when he greeted customers.

“Now, Mr. Metacarpus,” said Whibley, “I will ask you to cast your mind back to the morning of October fifteenth. You opened the store at what hour?”

“Quarter to nine.”

“Were you there all morning?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And during that time did you see a pig in pants and a sweater and a cap in the store?”

“I did.”

“Was it the same pig, in the same clothes, that you now see sitting there with the sheriff?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are rather near-sighted, are you not, Mr. Metacarpus?”

“I am not!” said the manager indignantly. As a matter of fact everyone in town knew that he was, but he was too vain to wear glasses.

“You are, then, absolutely certain?”

Mr. Metacarpus blew out his moustache. “Of course I'm certain. I remember the—the person perfectly. He had the same rather villainous expression, and he was acting in a very peculiar manner, walking around for upwards of two hours and fingering the articles for sale, and looking about furtively to see if anyone was watching him. It is quite easy for a person with my experience to spot the criminal type, and I had no doubt about him. I am not surprised to see him here.” And he sucked his moustache into his mouth and blew it out with a plop.

Bang! went the judge's gavel. “The witness will keep his surprise to himself,” he said. “Also, the court will appreciate it if he will keep his moustache under better control.”

Bang! went the judge's gavel.

Old Whibley resumed. “You would say then that the prisoner was in your store continuously from nine until eleven on the morning in question?”

“Until after eleven,” said Mr. Metacarpus.

“Did he buy anything?”

“No, sir. Just handled things and put them down. At least I hope he did. I watched carefully, and while I did not actually see him steal anything, I have no doubt that some small items found their way to his pocket.”

Freddy forgot for a moment where he was, for it made him angry to hear Weedly accused of shoplifting. He started up. “Why that's not so! Weedly wouldn't—”

“Shut up!” snapped Whibley, and the judge banged with his gavel. “Another disturbance of this kind,” he said peering severely at the pig, “and I will have you removed from the courtroom.”

“Why, that's exactly what we want you to do, your Honor,” said Old Whibley.

“Eh?” said the judge. “Ah, I see. I forgot for the moment that the prisoner was—er—well, a prisoner. Continue, then.”

“There is nothing much to say, your honor,” said the owl. “I submit that my client has a perfect alibi. Mr. Weezer claims that it was the prisoner who took the money from him at 10 A.M., pretending to have been sent for it by Mr. Bean. Mr. Metacarpus, on the other hand, asserts that from nine to eleven on the same morning the prisoner was under constant observation in the Busy Bee. Now this pig cannot have been in two places at the same time. Mr.Weezer's identification of him is doubtful, since his glasses were falling off at the time. Mr. Metacarpus' identification of him extended over a considerable period of time, and is therefore reliable.”

“If the court pleases,” said Mr. Weezer, “why do we not ask the prisoner?”

“If the prisoner wishes to testify in his own behalf, he may do so,” said the judge. “On the other hand, if he does not wish to take the stand the law does not compel him to.”

“My client does not wish to testify,” said Whibley.

“But your Honor,” protested Mr. Weezer, “everyone knows that he took the money. He told a lot of people so.”

“I object,” said Whibley. “That is mere hearsay, and not admissible as evidence.”

“Objection sustained,” said the judge. “Quiet! Order in the court!” he shouted, for Freddy's frends had begun to applaud. “Prisoner,” he said addressing Freddy, “the court pronounces you not guilty. But,” he said severely, “don't for goodness' sake do it again!”

Chapter 19

Freddy found out later that it was Mrs. Church's influence with Judge Willey that had got his trial put forward. Having heard that one of the reasons why it had been set for February was that the judge had such a lot of Christmas shopping to do, she went to him and agreed to do all his shopping for him, even adding that she would pick out a small surprise present and give it to him herself. The judge always got a lot of presents for Christmas from people he had tried and found not guilty, but the thought of one more so delighted him, that he agreed to hold the trial right awav.

It made him for a time the most popular person in Centerboro, because now Freddy could play in the Tushville game. Even Mr. Weezer was pleased. He was one of the first to congratulate Freddy on his acquittal. “I knew of course that you didn't intend to keep the money,” he said, “but I had to testify against you for the sake of appearances. What would all the people say whose money the bank takes care of if I just let somebody walk off with five thousand dollars?” He caught his glasses neatly and went on. “They would say that I was not protecting their interests.”