Funny Frank (8 page)

“Oh, Mum, you are clever!” Jemima said. “I can't wait to see if they work properly.”

“Well, wait till I've finished tomorrow morning's milking,” said her father.“This is something I don't want to miss.”

When, the next day, the farmer came into the orchard, his wife and daughter were ready and waiting. They had fitted the new feet to Frank and taped the cuffs of the gloves securely around each leg. He was quite a sight, with his brown head and wings and tail poking out of his green hot-water-bottle wet suit and his yellow rubber-glove webs.

Jemima put the young cockerel down on the grass. For a moment Frank stood still, puzzled by the strange things that had been put on his feet. Then he began to
walk, lifting each foot high and then putting it down again flat on the ground, rather like a man in snowshoes. He tripped himself up once or twice due to the size of his new webs, but then he got more used to them and began to make his way toward the duck pond. He sploshed in the shallows and walked on in till he was floating.

Jemima held her mother's hand tightly. “Oh, Mum, it will work, won't it?” she said.

“Fingers crossed,” said her mother, and they all three crossed them.

Then, as they watched, Frank began to make strong thrusts with his long legs— just the movements he would have made to run on dry land—and immediately he began to move forward, slowly at first, then faster, faster, till he was swimming around the pond at a speed no duck could hope to match. In fact, all the other ducks got hastily out of the way lest they be rammed by this speeding water bird.

“Wicked!” the ducklings cried as he whizzed by.“Cool, man, cool!”

Farmer Tabb summed up the general amazement.“Luvaduck!” he said.

Chapter Eight

Gertie and Mildred had gone into the henhouse to lay their day's eggs, and so knew nothing of Frank's new feet.

They were sitting in adjoining nest boxes, and Mildred — mindful of the rebuke she had recently received for speaking while Gertie was laying—kept her beak shut.

Once Mildred had performed and gone out, Gertie laid her egg and then had a look at Mildred's in the next box. It was, she was pleased to see, a white egg of rather a poor size. Badly bred, Mildred is, she said to herself with satisfaction. I always knew it. Suddenly, outside, she saw Mildred scuttling back hastily.

“Quickly, dear,” Mildred panted. “Come and have a look at your Frank!”

“I want nothing more to do with the boy,” said Gertie. “He's nothing but an embarrassment to me.”

“But you must come and look,” said Mildred.“He's really swimming!”

Curiosity is a strong instinct, and Gertie could not resist making her way to the duck pond. At the farthest side of it, she
saw, was her son, sitting upon the water, quite still.

“If you call that swimming, my dear Mildred,” said Gertie in a very sarcastic voice,“you need your brains examined—if you've got any. Frank is simply floating as he has done before, thanks to that awful rubber suit.”

Frank was in fact getting his breath back after a great number of high-speed circuits around the pond, but when he saw his mother on the opposite side, he shouted, “Mum! Watch this!” and set off toward her as fast as his webs could drive him. Which was very fast. Up out of the water he surged and stood proudly before his mother in his wet suit and new yellow footwear.

“What d'you think, Mum?” he said.

As an answer, Gertie gave a loud squawk of horror and ran quickly away. What had her son done now? Mildred ran away too, eager to tell the rest of the flock about this latest development.

Frank turned sadly back toward the pond. Over its surface there still ran the waves caused by his recent rapid dash, and on them the ducklings bobbed.

“Wow, chick!” they cried. “Ain't you the greatest!”

“Greatest what?” asked Frank.

“Why, swimmer, of course,” they said. “Speed of light, man! Fantastic!”

Frank felt a glow of warmth. His mother didn't want to have anything to do with him, nor did his brothers and sisters, nor the big cockerel, nor any of the hens in the flock. But these little ducklings— they were his friends.

“I really
can
swim now, can't I?” he said.

“And how!” cried the ducklings.

“Can I come for a swim with you all now?” Frank asked.

The ducklings looked at each other.

“Sure thing, man,” one said.

“On one condition,” said another.

“What?” said Frank.

“Take it a bit slow, chick.”

“There's no hurry.”

“Nice and easy does it.”

“You may like the high-speed stuff—”

“—but we don't.”

“Oh, I see what you mean,” Frank said. “If I'm dashing about, it makes the water rough, so it's not so nice for you. Is that it?”

“You got it,” they all said.“It's enough to make us pondsick.”