Freddy the Politician (8 page)

Simon grinned wickedly at the pig.

“Ah, my clever friend,” he said, “still a trifle overweight, are you not?”

“You'd better not let Jinx see you, Simon,” said Freddy, “or you'll lose a lot more weight than you can afford to. What are you doing here, anyway? You're not supposed to come up near the barn.”

“As a free citizen of this new republic of yours, I am exercising my rights,” said the rat. “I presume you won't deny us our votes?”

“No,” said Freddy. “No. Though I'd like to.” And he hurried off to find Jinx.

He found him in the cow-barn, where Mrs. Wiggins, surrounded by a group of admiring friends, was exhibiting a flag which she had designed for the new republic. With a pair of old blue overalls and an old white nightshirt and some old red flannel underwear of Mr. Bean's which Georgie had begged for her from Mrs. Bean, she had laid out the flag, and then Adoniram had stitched it up for her on the sewing-machine. It was a good deal like the American flag, with two stars for Mr. and Mrs. Bean, and thirteen stripes for the thirteen original animals who had taken that famous first trip to Florida. There were also a number of buttonholes scattered about, which didn't stand for anything except that they hadn't been able to avoid them in cutting out the cloth.

“I have to laugh every time I look at those buttonholes,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “What Mr. Bean will say when he sees his cast-off underwear flung to the breeze I'm sure I don't know.”

“He'll be very proud and happy,” said Robert.

“I was going to have Adoniram cut a couple of blue beans, instead of stars,” said the cow. “But it did seem as if beans would be sort of funny on a flag. You can't imagine going into battle under a flag with beans on it.”

“Personally, I can't imagine going into battle under any kind of a flag,” said Freddy. “But I'm not very warlike. Anyway, I think it was very clever of you. I don't see how you ever thought of it.”

“I don't know how anybody could help thinking of it,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “A country without a flag is as silly as a—as a—Well, I can't think of anything it's as silly as. As a pig without a tail, I guess, Freddy.” She laughed her deep, comfortable laugh. “And as far as being clever goes—well, you know what they usually say about me. They say: ‘That Mrs. Wiggins—she's got a heart of gold.' You notice they don't ever say anything about my head. Still, when you all say I'm clever, it wouldn't be polite to contradict you.—But what's on your mind, Freddy? I can always tell when something is worrying you by the way you keep grunting.”

“I wasn't grunting,” said Freddy. “I may have sighed once or twice—”

“It sounded like a grunt to me,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “But, as I say, I'm not clever. Well, out with it.”

“I just met Simon and Ezra out here,” said Freddy. “And if you ask me, they're up to something.”

“What!” said Jinx, jumping up. “You mean that they've dared to come into the barnyard? Why, wait till I get my paws on that old sneak-thief! I'll—”

“Hold on, hold on!” said Freddy. “You can't do that. Not until after election, anyway. As long as he behaves himself every animal that lives on this farm has a right to be at this meeting tonight, and to vote at the election. And as far as we know, the rats have been behaving themselves for the last two years. But here's what's worrying me. We're the old crowd—the animals here in this cow-barn now. And as long as we stick together we won't have any trouble in electing the president we want, and running things the way Mr. Bean wants them run. But there are a lot of animals living on this farm that we don't ever have much to do with. Field mice, woodchucks, squirrels, chipmunks—and the birds. I dare say there are a hundred birds, and they all have votes. A good many of them will vote as we want them to. The squirrels will be with us. And I think I can guarantee the rabbit vote. I've employed a good many of them at one time or another in my detective work, and I've looked after their affairs for them.

“But what I want to point out is that we've got to stick together. If we don't, twelve or fifteen rats, all voting together, can upset all our plans. And how would you like it if Simon was president?”

The animals all looked pretty scared, and Mrs. Wogus said: “Freddy! You don't mean there's a chance of that?”

“Not if we stick together,” Freddy repeated. “And of course, if he did get elected, we'd all get together and throw him out. But that's revolution, and we don't want a revolution on this farm.”

“How about bugs?” asked Hank, the old white horse. “Seems to me if you're going to be so fair to rats, you ought to be fair to bugs, too. Ain't a bug got any rights on this farm?”

“It's kind of funny to hear you standing up for bugs, Hank,” said Mrs. Wiggins, “remembering how you pestered the life out of Mr. Bean until he bought some fly poison for the barn, so you could take naps in the afternoon.”

“Flies ain't bugs, are they?” said Hank. “They're pests. Still, I dunno; maybe you're right. You got to draw the line somewhere.”

“We can't give bugs the vote,” said Robert. “Ants and beetles and butterflies and—why, there's millions of 'em. It would take five years to count the votes.”

“Yes, and suppose
they
all stuck together and voted alike,” said Emma. “Dear me, suppose we had one of those dreadful centipedes for president!”

“That's so,” said Freddy. “Bugs are out. Besides, this isn't a bug republic. It's a government of animals, by animals, and for animals. And birds of course,” he added with a nod to Charles.

“
And
birds!” said Charles bitterly. “
And
birds! Why not for birds
and
animals, I should like to know. Why not—”

“No oration, Charles,
please!
” said Freddy. “When we say animals, we mean birds. And anyway, Charles, you're really not a bird. You can't fly.”

“Oh, is that so!” shouted the rooster. “And you can, I suppose? Like you did this morning, hey? Can't fly! I suppose you don't remember that time down in the Everglades when I saved all your lives by flying. I suppose—”

“Of course we remember it,” said Freddy. “What I mean is that your normal mode of progression—or shall we say locomotion?—is by walking.”

“Come again?” said Charles, who, although he used a great many long words in his speeches, seldom knew what they meant, and was wondering if perhaps he oughtn't to get still madder.

“Skip it,” said Freddy. “I'm only saying that if you want to go anywhere, you walk. You don't fly. I'm surprised at you, Charles. I've just explained that we all must stand together, and right away you start a row about an unimportant thing like that.”

Charles subsided, grumbling in his beak, and Mrs. Wiggins said: “I agree with you about the bugs. But how about Webb?”

“That's right,” said Hank. “The Webbs went to Florida. There's stripes for 'em in the flag. But spiders are bugs, ain't they? Or ain't they?”

“They're bugs all right, as far as I know,” said Freddy. “But Mr. Webb is a very distinguished bug. And Mrs. Webb is a very charming one. They've certainly got as good a right to vote as anyone on the farm. Now, that
is
a problem.”

When Mr. Webb heard his name, he came swinging down his little silk ladder from the roof and landed on Mrs. Wiggins's nose. The cow sniffed and began puckering up her face for a sneeze. “Hey, what in the nation—!” she gasped. “Oh, it's you, Webb. Hang on.” And she gave a tremendous sneeze. “Are you there?” she said. “All right, all right; quit clawing me or I'll sneeze again. Get up by my ear.”

So Mr. Webb went up close to her ear, and the other animals waited while he talked. “It's all right,” said Mrs. Wiggins after a minute. “Webb says he and Mrs. Webb don't care about voting. Says he's a bug and proud of it, but he knows it might cause us trouble, and he's
sure
it would cause him trouble, what with the other bugs being jealous and all. Now, isn't that Webb all over?”

The animals all said it was fine of him and gave him a cheer, and Mr. Webb ran up to the tip of Mrs. Wiggins's left horn and jumped up and down, which is a spider's way of showing good feeling.

“Now,” said Freddy, “who shall we nominate for president?”

Immediately all the animals began speaking at once. “I nominate Robert!” “Jinx is my choice!” “Freddy! Freddy for president!”

“Our Uncle Wesley always said,” quacked Alice, “that he believed I had great executive ability, if I only had a chance to use it. Now, I think—”

“I assure you, ladies and gentlemen,” interrupted Charles, “that if this high honor should fall to me—”

“Quiet!” squealed Freddy. “Quiet! Silence! Shut
up!
Don't you see? Don't you see what's going to happen? Jinx is going to vote for Jinx, and Charles for Charles, and Alice for Alice, and so on. We'll all get from one to three or four votes apiece. And the rats will vote in a body for Simon and elect him. We've
got
to agree. Now, I don't say that Alice or Jinx or Charles or anyone here would make a bad president. I don't think there's any one of the old crowd that wouldn't do a good job. But we can't all be elected. We've got to agree on one.

“And I want to say right here that I am not a candidate. For one thing, I don't like to get up early in the morning. And believe me, the president of this farm has got to get up early and stay up late. Now is there anybody else who doesn't want the job?”

“Well, I don't, for one,” said Henrietta. “Haven't I got enough to do with twenty-seven children and a husband to manage and pick up after without taking on a whole farm? And Charles doesn't want it either.”

“Oh, come, Henrietta,” protested the rooster. “If a wide popular demand should be made for my services, could I in all decency refuse? To the clarion call of public duty the private citizen must respond, no matter how great the sacrifice. And who am I to say that—”

“Stuff and nonsense,” interrupted Henrietta vigorously. “The wide popular demand is usually for you to shut up, and you can respond to that right now.” And she glared at him so ferociously that Charles sighed and, leaning his head against the wall, fell into a reverie.

“I guess there wouldn't be any wide popular demand for me either,” said Hank. “There's some days I think I'd like to be a king or a president or something, and lead parades and have the people throw their hats up and cheer when I went to the window. And there's some days I'm glad I'm just Hank, that nobody pays any attention to, and I look out the window and there ain't anybody there looking back at me. And there's other days when I got the rheumatism in my off hind leg and it just kind of hurts me even to smile. If I could just be president on the good days, I dunno's I'd mind. But every day for a year ain't my choice.”

Then some of the others said they didn't want to be president either, and Alice withdrew when she found she'd have to make speeches. “Because,” she said, “I could never stand up in front of an audience, never.”

Finally the choice was narrowed down to Jinx, Robert, Mrs. Wiggins, Eeny, and Ferdinand.

And after some argument Freddy said: “As far as doing a good job goes, I don't think it makes any difference. Any of you would do a good job. But my choice would be Mrs. Wiggins. She's got the presence for it. She's the biggest of us all—and that's very important, for she'll show up well in crowds or group photographs. She's a good mixer. And she's got common sense. Also, she's had some practice in public speaking, in those travel talks she used to give. I think we should all get behind Mrs. Wiggins.”

“Well now, Freddy,” said Mrs. Wiggins, with a troubled look on her broad face, “I don't agree with you. A cow ain't built for public life, and that's a fact. A cow's place is in the home. Now, I think—”

But Freddy interrupted her quickly. He felt pretty sure that the other animals agreed with him, and he didn't want another argument started, which might split them up again. “Nonsense,” he said loudly. “You're our candidate. Go in and win. Mrs. Wiggins for president: that's our platform, and on it we stand. How about it, animals?”

The others, carried away by Freddy's enthusiasm, agreed and shouted down Mrs. Wiggins's objections.

“Well,” she said at last, “all right. I'll do my best. If you'll all get behind me, as Freddy says, maybe we'll get somewhere. But,” she added with her booming laugh, “if you shove good and hard it'll be better. A cow's awful hard to move.”