The Clockwork Twin (8 page)

“I wish I'd had somebody besides Adoniram to paint from,” said Jinx. “It may be a bother, having them look alike. But there wasn't any other boy around.”

“I don't see what difference it makes,” Freddy said.

So then they both stood silently admiring the face for a while. But Freddy was pretty sleepy, and at last he said: “Well, let's go to bed.”

“You go along,” said Jinx. “I want to—well, there's one or two little things—”

Freddy grinned. He knew that Jinx just wanted to admire his own work a little longer. “All right,” he said, and stumbled off drowsily down the stairs.

VI
An Engineer for Bertram

Freddy's invention of pockets for animals had not really been a success. On his trip he had interested a good many animals in them, partly because he was a high-class salesman and partly because they were such a new idea. But once the novelty wore off, the animals forgot about them and stopped wearing them.

“Trouble is,” said Freddy, one warm May day when he and Georgie and Jock, the collie, were resting on the bank of the duck pond after a dip, “most animals have got along without carrying things around with them all their lives, and so they don't really feel a need for pockets. If they'd been born with pockets, they'd use them.”

“The way I feel about it,” said Jock: “they're kind of hot and uncomfortable to wear all the time. But I would like them on a long trip. Only most animals don't take long trips.”

“There comes Adoniram,” said Georgie. He looked toward the barn, from which a figure came striding quickly toward them. Georgie's tail began to vibrate, and Jock's gave a couple of dignified thumps on the ground.

“You dogs are awfully lucky having tails that you can wag,” said Freddy. “It's such an easy way of being polite. You don't have to say: ‘How do you do? I'm glad to see you.' You just let your tails do it for you with a couple of wags. You know, when I was little I spent hours trying to wag my tail. But I couldn't move it. It never changes its expression at all, except to come uncurled a little when the weather's damp. What good is a tail like that?”

“It's ornamental,” said Georgie. “It adds something, Freddy, really. It sort of finishes you off, like a little flag.”

“Finishes me off all right,” said Freddy. “It's like the period at the end of a sentence—it shows where I come to an end.—Say, what's the matter with Adoniram? Why does he walk so funny?”

All three turned to look at the figure, now quite close to them. He was striding along with a queer, stiff gait, coming straight toward them, and making a funny clicking sound.

“Gosh!” said Freddy suddenly. “It isn't Adoniram. It's the clockwork boy. Uncle Ben's finished him.—Hey, look out, you! You'll go into the pond!”

But the figure strode straight through them as they rolled aside to avoid being stepped on, and went over the bank and into the water with a splash. “Stop him! Stop him!” shouted a voice, and they saw Uncle Ben come stumping along toward them as fast as his short legs would carry him.

Jock had jumped into the water, and Freddy and Georgie followed him. The clockwork boy was thrashing around in the pond, still making walking motions with his legs. He was dressed in a suit of Adoniram's, and the animals finally caught hold of his coat-sleeves and dragged him in toward the bank.

“Leave him there,” said Uncle Ben, who had come up by this time, “till he runs down.”

“That's right,” said Jock. “He can't drown, can he?” The collie climbed out, and the others followed him. They all looked at Uncle Ben.

Uncle Ben was evidently struggling with a thought. He had both hands buried in his whiskers and was tugging them frantically as he stared down at the figure, which was lying on its side with a placid smile on its face, as if entirely unaware of the furious activity of its legs. “'Twon't work,” said Uncle Ben at last.

“I should say it worked almost too well,” said Freddy.

Uncle Ben shook his head. “Start him,” he said, “can't stop him. Hadn't been for pond—been in Centerboro by now.”

“That's right,” said Freddy. “You've got to be able to stop him doing things after you start him. I never thought of that.”

“No engineer,” said Uncle Ben.

Most of Uncle Ben's conversation was like that. He could put a whole sentence into two words. Some people found it difficult to understand what he was talking about, but Freddy had worked with him so long by now that he knew what the old man meant. “Of course,” he said; “he's no more good this way than an automobile without someone to drive it. We've got to have somebody to run him.”

“Animals too big,” said Uncle Ben.

“Yes, even Georgie would be too big,” said Freddy. “We'd have to build a place for him to sit inside, and—”

“How about Ronald,” said Georgie. “He's small enough.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Uncle Ben. “Rooster!” He drew a sheaf of plans out of his pocket, spread them out on the bank, and began studying them. After a few minutes he nodded his head, folded up the plans, and went up to the barn for a wheelbarrow. When he got back he dragged the clockwork boy out of the pond with the help of the animals, loaded him, still kicking, into the wheelbarrow, and took him up to the barn.

Freddy and the two dogs went over to the henhouse to talk to Ronald. The rooster was delighted with the idea of being engineer for the clockwork boy. “It'll be just like having an automobile,” he said. “I can drive him to Centerboro—go anywhere I want to—”

“The idea is to have a playmate for Adoniram, remember,” said Freddy. “Not just for you to have a lot of fun by yourself, and taking people for rides, and so on.”

“Oh, quite,” said Ronald. “You leave it to me. When do I get my first lesson?”

“You'd better go talk to Uncle Ben,” said Jock.

It was several days before Uncle Ben completed the alterations which were necessary. But it was a nice job when it was done. There was a little door in the clockwork boy's back for Ronald to get in by, and a window just at one side of his necktie to look out through, and inside there was a perch for Ronald facing all the little levers that controlled the arms and hands and head and legs. And there was also a microphone rigged up so that Ronald could talk for him.

It took Ronald some time to learn how to work all the levers properly, for the boy was much more complicated to run than an automobile. Nothing had been said to Adoniram about all this, although most of the animals knew about it. So the first time Ronald took the boy out they waited until Adoniram had gone to bed.

It was a bright moonlight night. The clockwork boy stood in the doorway of the big red barn, surrounded by a ring of excited animals, while Uncle Ben wound him up good and tight. Then Ronald fluttered up into the little door and closed it behind him. He pulled a couple of levers and the boy put his hand over his heart and bowed to the animals.

“Quiet! Quiet!” said Freddy, as the animals started to raise a cheer. “Are you all right, Ronald?”

“O. K. Here we go!” boomed a great voice, that echoed back from the surrounding hills.

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Jinx. “We can't have a voice like that in him! Sounds more like a lion than a boy.”

But Uncle Ben stepped forward, opened the little door, and, reaching in over Ronald's head, made a few adjustments in the microphone. “Now try.”

“O.K. Here we go!” came a rather hollow, but much smaller voice.

“Well, it might be a boy's voice,” said Freddy, “if the boy had a bad cold and was talking with his head in a barrel. But I guess it's all right.”

“What's his name?” came the hollow voice again.

“That's right,” said Freddy. “He's got to have a name. Well, Uncle Ben, he's your boy if he's anybody's. You name him.”

“Bertram,” said Uncle Ben without hesitation.

So then the animals stood back and Bertram walked slowly around the barnyard once, and then he ran around, and then he hippety-hopped around. By this time Ronald was pretty sure of himself, and he put Bertram through his paces. He closed the barn doors, and threw stones, and chased Jinx and caught him and pulled his tail, and did a lot of other stunts, and then he came up and shook hands with Uncle Ben.

Most of the animals thought that Ronald had done so well that Bertram could be introduced to Adoniram the next morning, but Uncle Ben said no, he'd got to have more practice. And it was lucky he did. For the next night Ronald took Bertram out again. And they had an accident.

It happened this way: Bertram had done a lot of stunts, and he was showing the animals how he was going to play ball with Adoniram. He was being a pitcher, and he was just showing them how he would deliver a fast one when his hand, which hadn't been screwed on very tight, flew off and sailed up in a big curve and went
Crash!
through Mr. Bean's bedroom window.

All the animals ducked for cover. They were horrified to see Bertram still standing there in the moonlight. “Beat it!” they whispered. “Go in the barn.” But Bertram didn't move.

And then Mr. Bean's head appeared at the window. On his head was his white nightcap with the red tassel, and his left eye was closed and his right eye was squinting down the barrel of his shotgun.

“Halt! Who goes there!” he shouted.

Now, Bertram hadn't run away because when he wound up to pitch the imaginary ball his necktie had slid over the little window, and Ronald couldn't see out. But he heard Mr. Bean's voice, and he was so scared that he just opened the little door and jumped out and ran.

Mr. Bean saw the rooster quite clearly in the moonlight. “Ha! Chicken-thieves, eh?” he shouted, and he aimed at Bertram's legs and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and the rattle of shot, but of course they didn't hurt Bertram any. “Well, I'll be switched!” said Mr. Bean. “I know I hit him, but he never jumped. Well—” and he pumped another cartridge in and pulled the trigger.

Bang!
And this time one of the shot somehow hit the lever that made Bertram walk. He started off toward the gate, and he walked into the gate and knocked it flat and went on into the side of the cow-barn with a loud crash, and his head fell off. And at that Mr. Bean gave a loud yell and slammed down the window.

For a minute there was a complete silence. Then from the shadow of the barn doorway where Uncle Ben was standing came a queer, rusty, creaking sound and Uncle Ben came out into the moonlit barnyard and danced around, waving his arms and stamping until he looked like a gnome out of some old fairy-tale book, and all the time that queer, wheezy, rusty sound came out of him. I think Freddy was the first who realized it was the sound of Uncle Ben laughing.

Under the sound of the laughter Freddy could make out faint rustlings and scrapings, which was the sound of the other animals all sneaking off to bed. But he and Jinx stayed hidden in the little tool-shed where they had taken refuge, and pretty soon Uncle Ben calmed down and went up to the house. After a minute a light went on in the kitchen and for quite a while there was a rumble of voices, as Uncle Ben explained to Mr. Bean what had happened. Then Uncle Ben came out again, followed by Mr. Bean in his nightcap, long white nightshirt, and carpet slippers, carrying a lantern. The two men were both laughing now. They went down and picked up Bertram and stuck his head back on and carried him up into the loft. Then they went back into the house.

“Well,” said Jinx, “I guess the party's over. Gosh, Mr. Bean must have been scared when he saw the chicken-thief's head fall off. Ho, hum. Good night, Freddy.”

“Good night, Jinx.” And the two animals went off to bed.