The Clockwork Twin (5 page)

The animals came forward to meet him. “Well, well,” said Freddy, “what a time we've had finding you! All we knew was that you lived near Snare Forks, so we've been visiting every farm along the river, and poor Ronald has nearly worn his crow out. We were sure you'd recognize it, but it's a good thing we found you today, because he couldn't have lasted much longer.”

“I should say not,” said Ronald. “You haven't a cough drop about you, have you, old chap? My throat is raw.”

“Oh, I'm glad you came!” Adoniram exclaimed. “I didn't think I'd ever see you again.”

“It's harder to get rid of friends than it is to make them,” said Jinx. “And we couldn't just run off that way and leave you. We were pretty sure they'd send you home.”

“And what we really came for,” said Georgie, “was to see if you wouldn't change your mind and come with us.”

“Yes,” said Adoniram, “I will. My aunt and uncle don't like me, and I don't see why I should have to stay with them.”

“Hurray!” said Jinx. “Well, let's get going.”

“I can't go yet,” said the boy. “My uncle would miss me, and he'd catch us and bring me back. And anyway, there are some things I want to take with me.”

So the animals agreed to wait in the woods the rest of the day. And then when Adoniram came out to the barn to go to bed, they would meet him and start.

Everything went smoothly. Adoniram got spanked again for being late for breakfast, but he managed to smuggle his knapsack and some clothing out of the house, and he got his scout knife and mess kit from under the barn floor and packed everything up. And at eight o'clock that night when he came down to the barn, the animals were waiting.

“We won't waste any time,” said Freddy. “We'll have to travel all night, because we want to be a long way from Snare Forks by daylight. Come on.”

So the travelers, each with his pack on his back, filed out of the barnyard and up over the hill. Jinx led the way, because cats can see better in the dark than other animals. They cut down behind the woods and struck into a road, and then as they trudged along, Freddy struck up the old marching song that he had made up when the animals took their first trip to Florida.

Oh, it's over the hill and down the road

And we'll borrow the moon for a light,

And wherever we go, one thing we know:

The road will lead us right.

If you start from home by any road,

And follow each dip and bend,

What fortune you find, whether cold or kind,

You find home again at the end.

Oh, the roads run east, and the roads run west,

And it's lots of fun to roam

When you know that whichever road you take—

That road will lead you home.

IV
Mr. Bean's Farm

“The nice thing about taking a trip,” said Freddy, “is that it is just as exciting to come back home as it is to start out.”

It was the twelfth morning since they had left Snare Forks, and they were standing on a hill looking down on a little valley, and on the side of a hill across the valley was a small white farmhouse and a big red barn and a lot of other buildings, all very neat and shining in the bright sunlight. And that was Mr. Bean's farm.

They sat down and rested for a few minutes, and Jinx pointed out the houses where the different animals lived. “That big building with the blue curtains is the cow-barn,” he said. “Mrs. Wiggins, Freddy's partner in the detective business, and her two sisters, Mrs. Wurzburger and Mrs. Wogus, live there. And that little house with the chimney is the henhouse, where you'll live, Ronald. Mr. Bean put in steam heat last year, and mahogany perches. I tell you, he spares no expense where his animals are concerned.”

“I'm pretty dirty,” said Adoniram. “Couldn't we wash somewhere before we see the Beans?”

So they went down and washed in the brook at the foot of the hill, and Adoniram took clean clothes out of his knapsack and put them on. And then they started for the farm.

There was nobody in sight as they came in the gate, but when they were half-way across the barnyard the little blue curtains at one of the windows of the cow-barn were pushed aside and a big white face appeared.

“Hi, Mrs. Wiggins!” called Freddy.

“Mercy on us!” exclaimed the cow. “It's Freddy and Jinx.” And she came rushing out to greet them, and Mrs. Wogus and Mrs. Wurzburger came after her.

Now, when Mrs. Wiggins said anything, you could hear her across two fields and a pasture. And when she raised her voice, you could hear her in the next county. So in two minutes the barnyard was full of a mob of cows and dogs and horses and chickens, all pressing around the travelers and shouting and laughing and slapping them on the back. Ronald was quite terrified by the racket, and Georgie, though his tail kept wagging, pressed close against Adoniram.

The animals all asked questions at once. “How did the pockets go, Freddy?” “Where'd you get the boy?” “Been eating any crows lately, Jinx?”

But suddenly the noise quieted down, and a small man in overalls with bushy gray whiskers came shoving through the crowd. He carried a pitchfork with which he made threatening gestures, but Adoniram noticed that he was careful not to touch any of the animals with it. “Quiet!” he shouted. “Tarnation, animals, can't ye stop this rumpus? Ye make more noise 'n a hop-pickers' picnic.”

“It's Mr. Bean,” said Freddy to his guests.

The farmer pulled Jinx's whiskers and poked the pig in the side. “Glad to see ye back,” he said gruffly. Mr. Bean was not a demonstrative man; he never gushed. “And who may these be?” he asked.

“My name is Adoniram R. Smith,” said the boy, “and this is Georgie and this is Ronald. We thought—well, we'd like to live here if—if you'd like to have us.”

“Glad to have you,” said Mr. Bean. “And Mrs. B.'ll be gladder. Consider that settled.” He scratched a match on the seat of his trousers and lit a small pipe that Adoniram hadn't noticed before because it was almost hidden by his whiskers. He puffed hard at it for a minute until his whiskers oozed smoke like a brush fire, and then he said: “You look hungry, boy. You'll find Mrs. B. in the kitchen. She'll fix you up. Freddy, you know where to put the other two where they'll be comfortable. And you other animals,” he added, “I suppose you'll be havin' a celebration tonight. But lights out at ten o'clock, remember.” And he turned and stumped away.

As Adoniram went toward the house, Mrs. Bean came to the door to shake the breakfast crumbs from the tablecloth. She was small and plump, and as neat as Mr. Bean was untidy. She pushed her spectacles up on her forehead and stared, and then she said: “Land sakes, if it isn't Freddy and Jinx!” And she ran out and hugged the cat and patted the pig and shook hands with Ronald and Georgie. Then she looked at Adoniram.

“Well, well,” she said, “you're a nice-looking boy, I must say. Now isn't it lucky I baked a big batch of molasses cookies yesterday? Do you live around here?”

“No, ma'am. I came with Freddy and Jinx. I—I ran away from home.”

“Ran away from home!” exclaimed Mrs. Bean. “Well, you come right in the house and have something to eat, and then you can tell me all about it.”

While Adoniram was inside telling his story, the animals went back to their work, for when anyone returned from a trip he always gave a lecture on his travels that night in the big barn, and they knew they would hear all about it then. Freddy and Jinx took Ronald down to the chicken house and introduced him to Charles, the rooster, and his wife, Henrietta, and saw that he was assigned to a perch. And they introduced Georgie to Jock, the collie, and saw that he was taken care of. And then they walked down to Freddy's study, to arrange their picture postcards and make some notes for their lecture that evening.

Freddy's study was a comfortable little room that he had fixed up in a corner of the pigpen. Here were all his books and papers, and his typewriter, and an old easy chair that he could sit in when he wanted to think, or take a nap, or both. They slipped off their pockets and piled them on the floor, and Jinx jumped up on the typewriter table, while Freddy threw himself into the chair, out of which a cloud of dust rose that set the cat sneezing.

“This place gets worse and worse,” said Jinx. “You haven't house-cleaned since you moved in here, I bet.”

“I know,” said the pig, “but I don't want to do it myself, and I hate to get the squirrels to do it. Nosey little brutes, poking among my papers. They'd mix everything up, and probably lose half of 'em—”

“No great loss, I should say,” remarked Jinx, looking over a heap of magazines and clippings piled beside him. “H'm. Cross-word puzzles. Old
St. Nicholas
with half the leaves torn out. Recipe for pumpkin pie—what use is that to you, I'd like to know?… ‘How to make your own lipstick at home'—ha ha! Freddy you slay me!… And here's a piece about that mechanical man they had at the circus last year. ‘Walks, talks, plays games.' With a plan of how he's put together.… And an ‘Ode to Spring,' from the Centerboro
Guardian.
Listen to this, Freddy. This is rich!

O spring, O spring,

You wonderful thing

O spring, O spring, O spring!

O spring, O spring,

When the birdies sing

I feel like a king,

O spring!

Six verses of it—golly, what stuff! And signed ‘Shakespeare, Jr.' Can you beat that? Boy, how he fancies himself!—Why, what's the matter, Freddy?”

For Freddy had turned slightly red and was frowning at his friend. He didn't have a very good frown, because he was pretty fat, and when he drew his eyebrows down, they just closed his eyes and he looked as if he was asleep. But Jinx knew what it meant.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Freddy, if I've hurt your feelings. Did you—was this something
you
wrote?”

“It's the first poem I ever wrote,” said Freddy stiffly. “Naturally, I don't think now it's a masterpiece, but it showed enough promise for the
Guardian
to print it. And as to the—” He broke off suddenly as a queer jangling of chimes and little bells drifted in through the open window. “What on earth—!”

The two animals dashed out. The sounds came from the big barn, but by the time they reached the door everything was quiet again. Inside they could see Hank, the old white horse, munching away peacefully at his hay.

“What's the row, Hank?” Jinx asked.

Hank turned his head. He looked a little like Mr. Bean with the hay sticking out of his mouth in all directions. Then his voice came through the hay, saying something that they couldn't understand.

“What?” said Jinx. “I wish you wouldn't talk with your mouth full.”

Hank swallowed with an effort, coughed, and said: “Sorry, boys. What row you mean? I ain't heard any row.”

“Who's upstairs?” asked Jinx, whose sharp ears had caught the sound of somebody moving about up in the loft.

“That?” said Hank. “Why, Uncle Ben, of course. Oh sure, I forgot. He came while you were away. He lives here now.” And Hank turned to pull down another bite of hay from the rack.

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Freddy. “If you begin chewing again we'll never get a thing out of you. Who is he? Where'd he come from?”

“Mr. Bean's uncle. He used to be a clockmaker, but he's retired now. Same as you retired, I guess, Freddy, because he keeps right on pulling clocks to pieces just like you keep on detectin'.”

“What's he like?” asked Jinx.

“Like Mr. Bean, only more so. More whiskers, more not sayin' anything. Go on up. He likes animals, seems like. At least he never throws 'em out. They say he's smart as all get-out about machinery, though. I wouldn't know about that. Never had much use for machinery myself since I got my tail caught in that thrashin' machine that time. You can't trust it. Though I dunno—I guess it's useful, at that.”

The two animals climbed the steep stairs and came out in the dimly lit loft. At the far end, by the big door through which the hay was hoisted in, was a long work-bench on which stood several clocks with their insides strewn about them, and on shelves and on the wall above, fifty clocks were ticking busily away. A little man who looked like a smaller and older and hairier Mr. Bean was working away at the bench.

He turned as the animals came in, nodded to them, and went back to his work. They sat and watched him for a minute, then got up and walked around, looking at the clocks. There were banjo clocks and cuckoo clocks and grandfather clocks and clocks that told the month and the year and when the sun rose and even the weather. Some had little figures that came out and danced when they struck the hour, and there was one that delighted Jinx, because it had three mice that came out and ran up over the top every quarter-hour and then back into a hole underneath as a cat's head poked out in the middle of the dial and grinned at them.