Freddy the Politician (14 page)

“Well,” said Mrs. Wiggins, looking around, “I guess that ends this procession. Rather smart of Grover, I must say.”

“It was a good procession while it lasted,” said Jinx. “And we've got the chicken vote back. Come on, animals. Dismissed. Home to bed, everybody.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “You can't leave me here in this thing.”

Now, it is hard enough to get a cow into a carriage, but it is three times as hard to get her out of one. Mrs. Wurzburger and Mrs. Wogus pulled the phaeton down past the bank and into the road where it was level and Mrs. Wiggins tried to get out. First she got her horns tangled in the canopy of the phaeton, and then in trying to get loose she got wedged tightly into the space between the back seat and the back of the front seat.

“Now I
am
stuck,” she said hopelessly. “No use pushing, Freddy. I just get stuck tighter.”

“If we push hard enough, something's got to give,” said Freddy. “Come on, now, Hank, Peter—one, two,
three.
”

The animals gave a shove, the phaeton gave a creak and a rattle, Mrs. Wiggins gave a groan, and then the onlookers gave a cheer. For Mrs. Wiggins shot out of the phaeton onto the road, and the animals who had been shoving shot out on top of her. And for a minute they all lay there in a heap, which shook and trembled oddly. But that was Mrs. Wiggins laughing underneath.

“More like a football game than a presidential election,” she said, when they had all got up and were brushing themselves off. “Well, well—no bones broken. But after this I do my electioneering on the hoof. No more state carriages for me. I'm not built for them, and that's a fact.”

On the way home Henrietta drew Freddy aside.

“If you want Mrs. Wiggins to win this election, you've got to get busy, my friend,” she said.

“Pooh,” said the pig. “With the chickens on our side, we'll win in a walk.”

“Oh, yes?” said Henrietta. “How about all these birds that have been coming and building nests in Mr. Bean's trees? There's hundreds of new ones. And they live here; they can all vote.”

“What?” said Freddy. “You mean that Grover—?”

“I mean that Grover and John Quincy and X have been showing some sense,” said the hen sharply. “While you've been going around and making speeches to get votes that you're going to get anyway, the woodpeckers have been getting birds in here from all over the country. I wouldn't be at all surprised if they had got enough already to swing the election. They live here, don't they? How can you prevent them voting? No more than you can prevent them from going back, after election, to where they came from. You'd better get busy, Freddy.”

XII

A meeting of the leaders of the Farmers' Party was held in the cow-barn next morning to talk over what could be done to combat this new danger. Ferdinand, the crow, who, although a bird, was still faithful to Mrs. Wiggins, reported that on a scouting trip through the woods and the upper part of the farm he had seen more than fifty new nests. “And with each nest containing at least two voters,” he said, “you can see where that leaves us.”

Freddy had his pencil out and was figuring. “Even with the chickens on our side,” he said after a few minutes of intense concentration, “Grover can win by about seventy-five votes.”

“This is a fine business!” said Jinx. “Here we are, a dozen or so of us, who have been with Mr. Bean and done everything of importance that has been done on this farm for years. And we're turning over the whole farm to be run by a lot of strange birds who haven't lived here any time at all.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Wiggins, “I guess it's our own fault. We ought to have made a rule that nobody could vote who hadn't lived here a certain length of time. But as long as we didn't, and as long as we think it's all right for Grover to bring in a lot of outside voters, I don't see why we can't do the same thing.”

“More birds?” asked Jinx doubtfully.

“I don't care what they are, as long as we're sure they'll vote our way. But certainly we've got more friends in this countryside than a stranger like Grover. Naturally, we can only bring in small animals, since they'll have to live here for a while. We couldn't feed a hundred cows—not if they've got appetites like mine. But there's room in the different barns and sheds around the place for a thousand small animals, and there are hundreds of unoccupied trees up in the woods. Free board and lodging for the rest of the summer in pleasant surroundings—where's the animal that wouldn't jump at the chance?”

“Gosh!” said Jinx enthusiastically. “That's a swell idea. What a president you'll make! Come on, boys. Scatter. Get busy. I'm going down the valley to the flats, where all those field mice live. They owe me a favor or two. I caught their head man one night two years ago—I just caught him for fun; I haven't eaten a mouse since I was a kitten, but they didn't know that. So they all came out and begged me to let him go, and one of his sons even volunteered to be eaten in his place. He was much fatter and tenderer and of course was a good trade, just considered as something on the bill of fare. I was really quite touched. I made them a little speech, and let him go, and they said if there was ever anything they could do for me—Well, now they can.

“Only there's one thing. We'll have to provide transportation. It's three miles to the flats.”

“I'll take the buggy down,” said Hank.

“That's fine,” said Jinx. “Then I can get a ride down myself.”

So the animals all started out to hunt for voters, but Freddy went back to his study to prepare the ballots for the election, which was now only three days away. The plan was to give each animal two pieces of paper when he came to the polls, one with a G on it for Grover, and one with a W for Wiggins. Then he would drop the initial that stood for his candidate into the ballot-box.

Freddy tore some paper into squares and started to work, but he had done only about twenty W's when, glancing out of the window, he saw a man strolling through the barnyard. He was a small plump man who walked with short, quick steps and he had a face a little like a pig's, which made Freddy mistrust him at once. For he said to himself: “When a pig has a face like a pig's, it's only natural. But when a man has a face like a pig's, there's something wrong somewhere.”

So he went out and ran after the man, who was walking past the house and pretending that he wasn't trying to peek in the windows.

“Excuse me,” said Freddy, “is there anything I can do for you?”

“Deary me!” said the man, turning around with a very bright smile. “What a nice little piggy! And you can talk, piggy. Isn't that lovely!”

“My name is Freddy,” said the pig. “And if there is anything I can do for you, please let me know. If not, I'm afraid—”

“You'll go get all the other little piggies,” interrupted the man, smiling even more brightly, “and drive me off the place. Is that it? And quite right, too. You must defend your master's property, like a brave little piggy.”

“Please stop calling me a piggy,” said Freddy crossly. “I told you my name.”

“You did indeed,” said the man. “And a very pretty name it is. Well, well, I mustn't be thrown off the place by a piggy, so I had better tell you what I am doing here, hadn't I? Well, I am interested in banks. Yes, I think I may say I am very much interested in banks. And I heard there was an animal bank on this farm, so I just dropped in to get a look at it. Deary me! A bank for animals! What won't they have next!”

“The bank is down the road a little way, on the left,” said Freddy.

The man thanked him, but he didn't go. Instead he turned and looked at the house. “And so this is the famous Bean farm,” he said. “You said the family were away?”

“I didn't say so,” said Freddy, “but they are. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Good morning.”

“Business!” said the little man. “Deary me, what a farm this is, to be sure! A piggy with business to attend to!” And he laughed heartily.

But Freddy didn't wait any longer. He didn't like the man, and he didn't trust him. Of course the Bean animals were known all over the country, and their exploits had been written up in newspapers and magazines, and people often came to see them and take their pictures and exclaim over them and generally act, as Jinx said, “as if we were Niagara Falls or something.” Such people were a nuisance, but usually they weren't anything worse than rather silly. Freddy felt about this man, however, that there was something wrong about him, and so instead of going to work when he got back into his study, he watched through the window.

The man walked all around the house, looking at it carefully, and smiling all the time. He peeked in the windows and even tried the door. And then he went off with his little quick steps toward the bank. “Oh, dear!” said Freddy, and he hurried out and down to the bank the back way, and when the man got there he was sitting behind the counter.

“Deary me!” said the man, as he came in the door. “
Another
piggy! A banker piggy. Will wonders never cease?”

“I'm the same piggy,” said Freddy. “That is, I'm Freddy. And stop calling me piggy, will you?”

“Certainly, my little piggy-wig, certainly,” said the man. “No offense, now. I just wanted to have a look at your charming bank. You have a good deal of money on deposit, I suppose? Actual cash, that is?”

“We don't give out information to strangers,” said Freddy.

“Quite right,” said the man. “Very sound practice. And your safe-deposit vaults, now—they're just under the floor?”

Freddy didn't say anything.

“Deary me, I'm afraid you don't like me, piggy-wig,” said the man. “And I'm very fond of piggies—yes, I am.”

“With plenty of gravy, I suppose,” said Freddy sarcastically.

“Well, that's one way of looking at it,” said the other. “That's certainly one way of looking at it.” And he gave Freddy one of his too bright smiles, and said good morning, and left.

“If he comes around here again,” said Freddy to the squirrel on guard at the vault entrance, “let me know right away. The bank is going to be closed until after election, but I want you or one of your brothers to be on guard all the time.”

“Yes, sir,” said the squirrel respectfully, and Freddy watched the man through the window until he was out of sight round a bend in the road; then he went back to the study. And there was John.

“News for you, Freddy,” said the fox. “There's another candidate for the presidency.”

“What!” said Freddy. “Do you realize how many of these things I've had to make out? Three hundred W's and three hundred G's, and now even that won't be enough. Now I've got to make out a whole new set?”

“Guess you have,” said John. “Marcus is going to run.”

“Marcus!” Freddy exclaimed. “That rabbit? Why, nobody'd vote for him. Is it a joke or something?”

“I don't know what it is,” said John, “but there's something funny about it. Marcus just announced it at a meeting Grover was speaking to in the woodshed. Grover let him talk, and even got up and congratulated him when he said he wanted to run for president. Grover said he showed fine public spirit, and he welcomed him as a worthy opponent, or something like that. And then yesterday I saw Simon talking to Marcus down by the duck pond. There's some trick in it, and Grover and Simon are both in it.”

“Probably a trick on me,” said Freddy. “That's three hundred M's I'll have to get ready now. Nobody'll vote for a rabbit, but I suppose I'll have to give them a chance, and that means an M ticket for everybody.

“It's a queer thing, though,” he said after a minute. “I agree with you, John, there's some plot of Simon's and Grover's behind it. But I can't for the life of me figure out how they will benefit by it.”