Читать книгу Freddy the Pied Piper - Walter Rollin Brooks - Страница 5

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Half an hour later Freddy and Jinx set out on the long walk to Centerboro. Freddy hadn’t been able to get back to the pigpen, and he bundled up in an old shawl that he borrowed from Mrs. Bean. As he trudged down the long groove made by the snow plow with Jinx at his side, he looked like a little old woman out for a walk with her pet cat. Jinx of course had a warm coat of his own fur and didn’t need anything else.

When they reached Centerboro they went right to the bank, and Freddy asked for the president, Mr. Weezer. As the founder and president of the first animal bank in the country, Freddy was well known in banking circles, and they were shown at once into Mr. Weezer’s office.

The banker greeted them cordially, shook hands with Jinx, and then leaning back in his chair tapped the side of his sharp nose with his glasses and said: “And now, gentlemen, what can I do for you?”

So Freddy told him about Mr. Boomschmidt. “And we’d like your advice, sir, as to what we can do to help him get his circus started again.”

“H’m,” said Mr. Weezer. “Ha. I know Boomschmidt. A fine man. But it takes a lot of money to get a circus going. Even if he had all his animals.”

“A thousand dollars?” Freddy asked.

“More than that. Well, perhaps if he was willing to start small, a thousand would do it.”

“Would your bank lend him a thousand dollars?” Freddy asked.

Mr. Weezer shook his head. “Couldn’t do it. If it was my money, I might take a chance. Boomschmidt’s a good fellow, and I’d like to help him. But the money we have in this bank isn’t mine; it belongs to the people who have left it here for safe keeping. So when I lend any it has to be on good security.”

“What’s security?” Jinx asked.

“Oh, you know, Jinx,” Freddy said. “When you borrowed twenty-five cents from the First Animal Bank to buy that catnip mouse, you had to leave your best collar with the bank. Then if you couldn’t pay the twenty-five cents back, the bank could sell the collar and get its money. You put up the collar as security.”

“That’s it exactly,” said Mr. Weezer. “If Mr. Boomschmidt has any good security to put up—”

“How about Jerry?” said Jinx, and Freddy said: “Oh, sure. Mr. Weezer, how much would you lend on a rhinoceros in good condition?”

“A rhinoceros? Why, we lend money on animals sometimes—cows and horses and pigs—excuse me, Freddy. But if Mr. Boomschmidt couldn’t pay up, what would the bank do with a rhinoceros?”

“You could sell him.”

“Who to? Barclay,” he said to a small man in a green eyeshade who came in at that moment, “what are rhinoceroses quoted at today? Will you look it up, please?”

The man looked surprised. “Rhinoceroses, sir? Never seen any quotations on them. Pigs are firm today, sir. Chickens are off two cents, and lambs very weak. But rhinoceroses—not a very active market in them, I should say.” He paused a moment, then laid a sheaf of papers in front of Mr. Weezer. “I thought you ought to see these, sir,” he said. “Just brought them up from the vault.”

Mr. Weezer put on his glasses and examined the papers, the edges of which seemed to be badly chewed and tattered. “Tut, tut!” he said. “Worse and worse!” He held them out to Freddy. “Mice,” he said. “Chewing up half the important papers in our vault. I wish I knew how they get in. Of course it’s an old vault, and there are cracks here and there. They ate up a whole package of five dollar bills two nights ago, and now here—here’s two war bonds half eaten and Jacob Wensley’s note—they’ve eaten the corner where the amount was written, and now we won’t be able to collect. Don’t know how much he borrowed now. I don’t suppose you remember, Barclay?”

Mr. Barclay thought it was either a hundred and fifty or seven hundred, he couldn’t remember which.

“There you are,” said Mr. Weezer. “Of course Jake has lost all his money and can’t pay anyway, but it’s the principle of the thing.” He looked at Jinx. “You wouldn’t want a good mouse-catching job around here for a few weeks, would you?”

“I’m sorry,” Jinx said. “I don’t catch mice any more—haven’t in years. Why, some of my best friends are mice.”

“We’ve been trying to borrow a cat,” said Mr. Weezer, “but it’s a big year for mice, and everybody that has a cat wants to keep it to protect his own property. Well, it’s too bad; if you could have helped me out, I might have done something for Boomschmidt.”

“I might be able to help,” said the cat. “I know about mice. They don’t tear papers up just to be mean. It’s usually to make nests, unless they’re terrible hungry, and then I guess they’d eat them. Why don’t you strew a lot of old newspapers around in the vault?”

“You think they’d chew them up instead?”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Freddy. He drew up to Mr. Weezer’s desk and took a sheet of paper and a pencil and began lettering a sign. It read:

ATTENTION MICE!!

These newspapers are provided by the management for your convenience. Use them freely, but please do not disturb any other papers. Free cheese will be distributed every Thursday as long as you comply with this request.

by Henry Weezer, President.

Mr. Weezer read it, said: “Good!” and passed it to Mr. Barclay. “See that this is taken care of at once,” he said. “And while you’re at it go out and buy a couple pounds of cheese.”

Mr. Barclay hesitated. “That’ll look sort of funny on the quarterly statement,” he said. “Under ‘Expenses’—two pounds of cheese.”

“Nobody ever reads our quarterly statement anyway,” said Mr. Weezer. “But I’ll explain it to the Board at our next meeting.” And then when Mr. Barclay had gone he thanked the two animals warmly. “You come and see me again in three or four days,” he said. “If this works, maybe I can figure out something that will help Mr. Boomschmidt more than lending him a few dollars on an old rhinoceros.”

From the bank, the two animals walked over to the jail. The prisoners were having a snowball fight in the jail yard. They were all bundled up warm except the sheriff, who was refereeing. He was dressed as he always was, winter and summer, in his shirtsleeves, with his silver star pinned on his vest. When he saw Freddy he left the game and went over and invited the animals into his office.

“Glad you came,” he said. “I was getting pretty chilly.” He shivered and broke a small icicle off the end of his moustache. “Pull chairs up to the stove and tell us the news.”

“I should think you’d be frozen,” said Freddy. “Why don’t you wear a coat?”

“Well, I tell you,” said the sheriff. “Folks in this town expect their sheriff to be a pretty tough character. If they thought I was a sissy they wouldn’t vote for me. But when they see me out there in the cold in my shirtsleeves, they say: ‘My land, our sheriff’s a pretty tough customer! He’s the kind of man we want.’ And next election I get their votes. It’s just politics.” He shivered. “It ain’t much fun and it don’t make sense, but you got to give folks what they expect.”

“Is that why you carry that pistol sticking out of your hip pocket?” Jinx asked.

The sheriff laughed. “I carried a pistol my first term in office,” he said. “Though it wasn’t ever loaded. But it was pretty heavy, so I sawed off the butt and had it just sewed into the pocket so it sticks out. Now when I get me a new pair of pants, I have ’em made complete with a pistol butt in the hip pocket.”

“I know a way you could make people think you were even tougher,” said Freddy. And when the sheriff appeared interested, he said: “Well, you know if anybody owns a big fierce dog, they always think he’s a pretty tough man. Well, suppose you had a pet rhinoceros?”

“A pet rhinoceros, eh?” said the sheriff. “Why yes; yes, that would be—” He stopped suddenly. “Hey, what are you trying to put over on me?” He demanded. “You got a rhinoceros you’re trying to get rid of or something?”

“We’re not trying to put anything over,” Freddy protested. “Wait, I’ll tell you.” And he told the sheriff about Jerry’s visit, and Mr. Boomschmidt’s trouble. “You see,” he said, “we want to get the circus started again, and we want to keep Jerry until we do. But we can’t ask Mr. Bean to feed him all the rest of the winter. He eats an awful lot of hay, and the hay crop wasn’t very good last summer; Mr. Bean has only got about enough in the barn to take care of his own animals. I know you’ve got a lot of hay in the barn back of the jail that the prisoners cut last July—”

“That hay belongs to the county,” said the sheriff. “I can’t just use it to feed stray rhinoceroses. What would the taxpayers say?”

“I see,” said Freddy. “Well, you feed the prisoners out of county money. Suppose the rhinoceros was a prisoner. Suppose you arrested him and put him in jail. You’d have to feed him then.”

“What can I arrest him for?” the sheriff asked. “He ain’t broke any laws. There ain’t any law against being a rhinoceros. Though I don’t know,” he added thoughtfully, “when you look at one of the critters you wonder sometimes why there isn’t.”

“Couldn’t you keep him as a sort of watch-dog?” Jinx asked.

“Wait a minute,” said the sheriff. “I got an idea. I’d like to help you boys out if I can, and I just thought: I’m allowed a certain amount of money for recreation and entertainment for the prisoners. Suppose I took him as a pet for the boys, eh? Is he broke to harness? Some of ’em’s been after me to get ’em a pony—maybe this would do.”

Freddy said: “He’s not broken to harness. But he’s goodnatured. He isn’t very bright, though.”

“That would be all right,” the sheriff said. “Most of the prisoners ain’t any too bright, either. He’d fit right in. I wouldn’t want to bring in an animal that was brighter than the prisoners are; they might think I was trying to teach ’em something, and prisoners and school kids are a lot alike: there ain’t anything that makes ’em madder than to think you’re trying to teach ’em something.” He smiled at the two animals. “Well, that’s settled. You bring Jerry down. I’ll keep him for you for a while, anyway.”