Freddy the Pied Piper (13 page)

Neither of them, of course, had one.

“Just have to do it in our heads then,” said the owl. “Won't be easy. But first, how many mice do you figure there are in Centerboro, Freddy?”

Freddy said it was hard to tell. But he'd guess at least four thousand.

And how many people did he figure there were who would pay him five dollars to have their houses de-moused?

That was hard to tell, too, but Freddy would guess that there were five hundred.

“Say four hundred,” said the owl. “Makes our problem easier. Now you can expect to take in four hundred times five; that's—h'm, ha! He scratched his ear. “How do you figure it, pig?”

Freddy took his ski pole and scratched the figures on the snow:

400

      5

$2000

“Good,” said Whibley. “Tidy sum, two thousand dollars. But now, suppose you take that money, but instead of driving the mice outdoors, you rent a hall somewhere for 'em to live in, and feed 'em until spring. Say two months more. What would that cost you?”

“My goodness, I don't know,” said Freddy.

“I didn't suppose you did. But we can figure it. Now first you've got to rent a hall. I suppose a good tight barn would do. For two months. What would that cost?”

“Twenty dollars,” said Cousin Augustus.

“Sure of that figure?”

“Yes, sir. At least, that's what Mr. Bean paid one year for one of the Macy barns, when he wanted to store some extra hay.”

“Ten dollars a month? I think your Mr. Bean got stung, but that's his affair. Say twenty dollars then. Good. Now you've rented your hall. And that leaves you—”

Freddy marked on the snow:

$2000

      -20

1800

“Sure that's right?” said Old Whibley. “Well now, if it costs ten cents to feed twenty mice for a week, how much will it cost to feed four thousand mice for two months?”

Freddy saw what the owl was getting at, and he went to work with his ski pole. He was not a really good mathematician, and he covered all the snow within twenty yards of the tree, but he finally worked it out that if it cost ten cents to feed twenty mice for a week, it would cost twenty dollars to feed four thousand mice for the same time, and a hundred and sixty dollars to feed them for eight weeks. It took him some time, and once he got into fractions by mistake and had to stop and smooth the snow out and start over again. Then he put down:

$1800

     -160

1540

which of course was wrong, but it was near enough, and Old Whibley didn't notice it either.

“My, that's fine!” Freddy said. “I'll have over $1500 for Mr. Boomschmidt, and the mice will be taken care of. If that's agreeable to you, Gus.”

Cousin Augustus said grumpily that it was better than nothing. At least the mice wouldn't starve or freeze. “But at the best,” he said, “it's nothing but a concentration camp. And you're making a lot of money out of it. How about cheese twice a week?”

“That's all right,” said Freddy. “No reason why we couldn't give them cheese, and an occasional cake, maybe, and even put on a little entertainment for them now and then. Only they'll have to agree to stay in the barn—not go sneaking back into the houses.”

“You get your barn,” said Cousin Augustus. “And then you call off your cats and take me and my brothers into Centerboro and let us arrange it.”

Freddy said: “OK. I'll turn my de-mousing orders over to you. You can go in instead of the cats, and move the mice out. But I'm going to keep my M.P.'s on for a while just the same, to patrol the town.”

They argued about this for a while, but Freddy was determined, and at last the mouse agreed. They looked up to thank Old Whibley, but the owl had gone back inside and closed his door.

Chapter 11

The scheme Old Whibley had suggested worked out to the satisfaction of everyone concerned. Freddy found a barn he could rent on the edge of town and then he took Eek and Quik and Eeny and Cousin Augustus down, and sent them into the houses to sell their plan to the mice. With few exceptions, the town mice agreed to move into the barn and stay there till spring, for no sensible mouse is going to turn down three square meals a day, with cheese twice a week and no cats.

Freddy could have moved the mice over into the barn quietly without any fuss, but that was not his way of doing things. So one day when he was all ready he ran big advertisements in the
Bean Home News
and the Centerboro paper. They read:

THE PIED PIPER OF CENTERBORO

Will free your town of mice

Monday, at 2 P. M.

W
ATCH FOR
H
IM!
W
AIT FOR
H
IM!

Corner of Main and Elm

2 P. M., Monday

Don't miss the big parade!

By half past one that Monday, Main Street was jammed with spectators. Everybody in town was there, and the sheriff had even brought all the prisoners down from the jail to see the show. At five minutes of two Freddy appeared. His friend, Miss Peebles, who had a millinery store on Main Street (maybe you've seen the sign yourself:
Harriet—Hats. Latest Paris Creations
), had helped him with his costume. He had on a peaked hat with a peacock feather in it, and a long coat, sewn all over with tags of varicolored ribbon that fluttered as he moved. At two o'clock sharp he pulled out a tin fife that he had bought at the Busy Bee store and started up Main Street, tootling the first seven notes of Yankee Doodle—which was all of it he could play—and as he passed each house the mice came tumbling out and followed along behind him, dancing and squeaking. They were pretty excited, for few of them had ever been in a parade before. Some of them formed a conga line which wound up on to the sidewalk, and even went right up one side of the square bank building, and across the roof, and down on the other side. Eeny always said afterwards that the leader was his Aunt Sophie, but when they asked her she just said: “Certainly not!” and tossed her head. And I hardly think it was so, for Aunt Sophie was a quiet, retiring person, even for a mouse, and anyway she was much too old for that sort of thing.

Of course some people who were afraid of mice were frightened. Old Mrs. Peppercorn was so scared that she swarmed right up the trellis on to Judge Willey's porch, and they had to get the fire company to get her down. But she wasn't hurt, and she said afterwards that she wouldn't have missed the sight for anything. “And I wager I saw it better than anybody else in town,” she said.

Freddy's M.P.'s patrolled for a week, but as none of the mice seemed to want to get back into the houses, he withdrew them. He had no further use for the cats now, and as they were a noisy and quarrelsome crew he advertised that anyone that didn't live in Centerboro could have one by calling for him, and he got rid of all of them in two days.

Of course Freddy now had a lot of money. He had $1726. If it had been summertime, he would of course have kept it in his own bank, of which he was president. But the First Animal Bank was closed for the winter under a snowdrift seven feet deep, so he deposited it in the Centerboro bank.

He hadn't written to Mr. Boomschmidt before, because he didn't want to say anything about getting the circus on the road until he was sure he could help. But now he wrote. He told about Leo and Jerry, and about the money he had earned, and he said that if Mr. Boomschmidt could get his animals together and wanted to take up the circus business again he would lend him the money. He would have sent a check for the whole amount right then, but he was afraid that Mr. Boomschmidt would not take it as a gift. That was why he spoke of lending it.

In about ten days he got an answer:

Dear friend Freddy:

I take my pen in hand to reply to yours of the 26th inst. I am very glad you are well and all the other good friends at the Bean farm. I am happy that Leo and Jerry are with you and not in any trouble. We are all in good health here. As to what you propose, it would be quite a job to round up all our old performers. Hannibal and Louise are in the zoo in Washington, and Rajah is in Louisville, but most of the others are I don't know where, though now and then I get a picture postcard from one or another from some distant point. Still, I suppose we could find some of them. The wagons and tents and everything are stored here and are all in good shape. Your old friend Bill Wonks is with me still, and Madame Delphine who told your fortune once, she says, and her daughter, Mlle. Rose, and of course my dear mother, who is still knitting me those fancy waistcoats—ha, ha, Freddy, you remember those waistcoats, I guess. Well, I tell you Freddy that is a pretty fine generous offer of yours to lend me that money, but good gracious Freddy suppose the circus did not do well and I could not pay you back? I know you would not care if I lost your money, but I would care, and so I am going to say no. But I tell you what I will do. I will go into partnership with you. You putting up the money, and I putting up the know-how and the equipment. How would you like to be a circus man? I think you would make a good one. You think it over Freddy and write me. If you say yes I can start getting things ready.

Give my love to Leo and Jerry. I miss Leo a good deal, and I suppose I must miss Jerry too, now I come to think of it. Hoping this finds you and all the good friends at the farm in good health as it leaves me,

Sincerely your friend,

Orestes Boomschmidt
.

Freddy took the letter into the stable to show to Leo. The lion was in the box stall next to Hank. He had borrowed Jinx's mirror, and he spent most of his time in front of it, turning his head this way and that and admiring his new hair-do. He turned towards the pig with a slightly discontented expression on his face.

“Give me your frank opinion, Freddy,” he said. “What do you think of the way I had my mane fixed?”

Freddy thought it was pretty ridiculous, pulled up tight from the back and piled in a sort of heap on top. But of course he didn't say so right out. He stepped back and frowned and put his head on one side and one fore trotter up to his chin to show that he was thinking deeply. Then he walked slowly around his friend. Once or twice he nodded as if agreeing with himself, and once or twice he shook his head in disagreement. And at last he said:

“Well, it's very smart, Leo. Very fashionable. But I think just a
leetle
extreme. I think dignity would be the keynote for lions, and this is just a trifle, just a
mite
, undignified.”

“
But I think just a
leetle
extreme.
”

Leo nodded. “Afraid you're right. There was two juncos flew in here this morning; asked me if I'd rent 'em a nest in it. Smart alecks! If I could have got a paw on 'em—”

“That's the trouble with style,” said Freddy. “Everybody naturally wants to wear the latest thing, but the latest thing isn't always becoming to everybody. Personally, I just let fashion go. Because I'd look funny in any of the new styles. If I wash behind my ears, and don't slouch, that's about as far as I care to go.”

Leo nodded. “You always look nice,” he said. He looked at himself again in the mirror and then began combing his mane with his claws. “I'll get these hairpins out and comb it down over my shoulders again. That's really the most effective arrangement. Ripples nicely, don't you think?” Then he looked at Freddy. “What have you got there?”

So Freddy showed him the letter. “That's a nice offer of Mr. Boomschmidt's,” he said, “and it would be a lot of fun running a circus, being on the road. But I'd have to be away from the farm all summer. I don't want to do that.”

“He won't use your money unless you go into partnership with him,” Leo said.

“Suppose I give you the money and you go into partnership with him,” said Freddy.