The Story of Freginald (20 page)

CHAPTER 18

Mr. Boomschmidt would have ridden straight into the Hackenmeyer grounds, but Leo and Freginald insisted that he must have a strong bodyguard in case of trouble. So they stopped to pick up Bill Wonks and two other men, who accompanied him, mounted on elephants. Even this did not satisfy Leo, who, after a whispered consultation with Freginald, said:

“Listen, chief. Fredg and I are pretty tired. We were up all night. Do you mind if we don't go along? We'd like to lie down and snatch forty winks before lunch, if it's all right with you.”

Mr. Boomschmidt seemed a little disappointed, but he agreed readily enough. As soon as he had gone, however, they got Hannibal and Jerry, the rhinoceros, and Uncle Bill, the shaggy old buffalo, and the two largest tigers, and Baldy, the eagle, and set out. They circled around and crept up toward the Hackenmeyer camp through the woods on the side away from the river. When they had got as close as they could without being seen, Baldy flew up into the top of the tallest pine, where he could watch and report on what was going on.

As a matter of fact, they did not need Baldy, for the foliage was so dense that even Hannibal found that he could work up among the trees and underbrush until he could see and hear plainly everything that went on in the wide open space in front of the big tent. Mr. Boomschmidt, with Lucky and the three other men, had ridden into the middle of this space and was talking with a man who stood confronting them, a shotgun in the crook of his arm. At the door of the big tent was a group of men armed with sticks and clubs and one or two guns, who had been getting ready to go out after the striking animals. Mr. Hackenmeyer—or Mendoza, as we might as well call him now—was not in sight.

“I tell you again, mister,” the man with the gun was saying, “he don't want to see you. And you better get out of here before there's trouble. He give us strict orders to throw you out if you wouldn't go peaceful.”

“You better watch your step, Joe,” said Lucky. “This fellow we've been working for is a fake. He isn't Hackenmeyer. His name is Mendoza.”

“Oh, I'm sick of arguing with you,” said Joe. “You fellows think you can get away with anything. First you steal all our animals, and then—”

“My goodness,” said Mr. Boomschmidt mildly, “the animals didn't belong to you in the first place. They belong to Mr. Hackenmeyer, but he isn't here. Well, well, if you won't come out, Mendoza, I'll come in to you. All right, Rod,” he said to the horse.

Rod shied sideways, knocking Joe off his feet. Then he dashed straight for the tent door. Mr. Boomschmidt bent low in the saddle, holding on his silk hat with one hand. The group of men jumped aside as the horse thundered down on them. Then horse and rider disappeared inside the tent.

“After him, boys,” screamed Baldy, and rose with heavy downward beats of his powerful wings from the branch where he had been sitting. With a yell the animals broke from cover, just as Joe scrambled to his feet, shouting: “Come on, men, throw 'em out. Drive 'em off the grounds.”

The men spread out in a line and came slowly forward. Joe's gun snapped to his shoulder. It was aimed at Leo, but before he could fire, a shadow drifted across the grass in front of him and the gun was snatched from his hands. Baldy had dived straight down upon him. Now, flapping heavily with the extra weight, the eagle swung out over the river and dropped the gun into ten feet of water.

The sight of all the animals charging down upon them was too much for the men. They dropped their weapons and dove for cover among the wagons. “Let 'em go,” shouted Leo. “Into the big tent. We must find Mr. Boomschmidt.”

They all turned and made for the tent except Jerry, whose charge had carried him down past it among the wagons. As they crowded through the door, there was a splintering crash, and Leo laughed. “We'll have to watch out for Jerry when he comes back. If he comes through this way we'll have to jump quick. Well, dye my hair! Look at that!”

The animals all stopped short. In the middle of the ring stood Mendoza. With one hand he was twirling the curled ends of his mustache, in the other he held a pistol pointed straight at Mr. Boomschmidt, who sat motionless on Rod with his hands above his head.

“Don't make a move, any of you, or I'll shoot,” he called to the newcomers. “Now, Mr. Boomschmidt, suppose we come to terms. You say I'm Mendoza. But can you prove it? You can not. You haven't a chance in the world of proving it. On the other hand, I can prove that you stole all my animals. I can cause you a lot of trouble—”

“Look!” whispered Freginald. “Don't move, any of you—don't let him know you see anything.” For in the doorway to the dressing-rooms, behind Mendoza, a man had appeared. He might have been another Mendoza, or another Hackenmeyer, rather, for he was tall and thin, and he had black curly hair and a long wavy mustache. He even wore the same uniform of blue and gold.

He paused a moment in the doorway, then with a warning gesture to Mr. Boomschmidt, tiptoed across to the trapeze whose wooden bar was hooked to a post beside the door, and whose ropes curved up and were fastened to another bar above Mendoza's head.

“Well, my goodness, Mendoza,” said Mr. Boomschmidt, “I don't want to cause anybody any trouble, but you were the cause of my doing old Hack a big injustice, and that's got to be made right. Grab him, boys!” he shouted suddenly. For the man had reached up, unhooked the trapeze bar, and then, holding it in his hands, kicked off and swooped across the tent. His feet caught Mendoza between the shoulders and sent him sprawling. Then he dropped the trapeze and fell on the impostor. Over and over they rolled in the tanbark, pummeling each other until the dust rose above them in a cloud.

The animals rushed in and separated them. They stood glaring at each other for a moment, while Mr. Boomschmidt climbed down from his horse and went up to them. “My gracious,” he said, “I can't tell 'em apart now. I thought I'd know Hack anywhere, too. But they got so mixed up just now— Leo! Oh, here you are. Leo, you've got sharp eyes. Which is which?”

“Gosh, chief,” said the lion, “I don't know. They both look alike to me.”

Both of them spoke at once. “I'm Hackenmeyer,” they said. Then they both glared again and pointed at each other. “That's Mendoza,” they said together. “Arrest him.”

“Hey, boss! Where's the boss?” came Jerry's voice from the doorway. The rhinoceros had come in and was peering about with his short-sighted eyes. “Oh, there you are. Say, boss, I hit a wagon a minute ago—knocked the stuffing out of it. There was a man in it, too. He ran this way.”

“It was me,” said one of the men.

“No, it was me,” said the other.

“I bet it was that gorilla wagon,” said Freginald. “Remember, Leo? The one that we couldn't open up last night. I bet Mendoza was keeping Mr. Hackenmeyer a prisoner in there.”

“Sure, boss,” said Leo. “That's where Mr. Hackenmeyer has been. Mendoza stole the circus and locked him up. Now all you got to do is lock Mendoza up in the jail and give Mr. Hackenmeyer back his circus. The animals will all come back when they hear about this.”

“All I've got to do! All I've got to do!” exclaimed Mr. Boomschmidt, mopping his forehead distractedly with his checkered handkerchief. “Sounds pretty easy, doesn't it? Well, you're so smart, go ahead and lock Mendoza up, then. I can't. I don't know which one he is.”

“Don't get so excited, chief,” said Rod. “There must be some way of finding out which is which.”

“Oh, shut up, Rod,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “You're a lot of help, I must say!”

“Lock 'em both up for a month, chief,” said Leo. “Mendoza's hair is really straight. The curl will come out of it in a month, and then you'll know.”

“You can't lock me up, Boom,” said one of the men. “Not any more. I've had a year of it and that's enough.”

“I don't mind being locked up if it'll prove that that scoundrel there is Mendoza,” said the other. “What's one more month?”

All the animals thought that they ought to be able to tell from these remarks which of the men was which. They were silent for a few minutes, thinking very hard. While they were thinking, Freginald went up to Mr. Boomschmidt and whispered in his ear. Mr. Boomschmidt nodded thoughtfully, then he said:

“Well, well; this isn't getting us anywhere, and it's supper-time. You two men come along with me. We'll have supper and then I'll decide what to do.”

Supper was ready when they got back, and Mr. Boomschmidt sat down at the head of the long table which was set under the trees back of the row of wagons. He had the two Mr. Hackenmeyers sit one on each side of him. The other performers took their places. Freginald and Leo and several of the other animals had been posted around the table to see that if Freginald's plan worked and Mendoza was unmasked, he should not escape.

Everybody was curious to know what had been going on, but Mr. Boomschmidt would talk about nothing but the weather. When he wished to exert himself he was a fine conversationalist, and so presently everybody got interested in what he was saying, and the two strangers were almost forgotten in a brisk discussion of the difference between weather and climate, upon which Mr. Boomschmidt had very pronounced views.

Pretty soon the cook brought in a large plate of doughnuts and placed them before Mr. Boomschmidt. Without stopping in his talk he passed the plate first to the left-hand Mr. Hackenmeyer and then to the right-hand Mr. Hackenmeyer. The left-hand Mr. Hackenmeyer took a doughnut and bit into it and said: “Mmmm!” The right-hand Mr. Hackenmeyer said: “No, thank you.” Then he seemed to change his mind, and he also took a doughnut, bit into it, and said: “Mmmm!” But he did not say it as if he liked doughnuts, and Leo winked at Freginald and moved up a little closer to the table.

But Mr. Boomschmidt went right on talking as if he had not noticed anything.

Then Mademoiselle Rose got up and asked if she might be excused, as she had a letter to write before it got dark. She walked away from the table and went into her wagon, but in a minute she came to the door and called: “Oh, Mortimer!”

The left-hand Mr. Hackenmeyer didn't move except to look up, but the right-hand Mr. Hackenmeyer turned sharply and said: “What? What is it?” And Mr. Boomschmidt dropped a hand on his shoulder and said: “Well, well, so you're Mendoza!”

It was no use pretending any more, and Mendoza knew it. But he was too quick for them. He put his hands against the table and shoved. His chair went over backward, he turned a somersault, landing on his feet, and in a minute he had dodged past Leo and was running for life down toward the river.

In a second the peaceful supper party was in confusion. Men and animals streamed out after the fugitive. Mr. Boomschmidt tried to stop them. “Let him go,” he shouted. “We don't want him.” But no one paid any attention.

Mendoza was a good runner. But the animals overhauled him slowly. In the lead was Jerry, but with no one to aim him he missed his mark by yards and thundered down into the river with a tremendous splash. And before the rest of the animals caught up, Mendoza had plunged into the water.

“No use,” said Leo mournfully, as they lined up on the bank and watched the powerful overhand stroke drive their enemy on toward the farther shore. “Boy, I'd like to have got a swipe at him. Though it's probably just as well. I'd hate to soil my claws with him. Particularly as I just had them manicured yesterday.” He examined them admiringly.

“Oh, look!” said Freginald. “Baldy's after him.”

The eagle was soaring high over the river. Suddenly he closed his wings and dropped like a bullet. But Mendoza had seen him. He dove, and Baldy's huge talons closed on nothing more solid than water.

The eagle rose from the water, circled and dropped again, and again, and each time Mendoza dove. But when he came up after the fifth dive they saw that he had become confused and lost his sense of direction; he was swimming toward them instead of away. “Duck,” shouted Leo. “Everybody get down.” So they crouched behind trees and bushes.

Baldy didn't pounce again, but he kept swooping overhead to keep Mendoza from examining the shore which he was approaching. The regular splash-splash came nearer; then the man found bottom with his feet and waded in, to drop panting on the grass. Then the animals came out and surrounded him.