The Story of Freginald (9 page)

CHAPTER 8

Nothing happened that night. Freginald didn't sleep very well. He was hungry and worried for fear that Mr. Boomschmidt wouldn't be able to rescue them. All night long there was stir and movement in and around the house—animals coming and going, and heavy things being pushed up to barricade the doors. But as the windows began to glimmer with the coming dawn, Leo raised his head.

“Listen,” he said.

From far away came a faint regular sound, thump, thump, thump-thump-thump. Steadily it came always a little louder.

“The drum!” exclaimed Freginald.

“They're on the march,” said Leo exultantly. “They're coming. Boy, what a scrap there's going to be! I wish we could be in it. But I don't see how we can get past those guards.”

They went to the northern window and looked out. But there was nothing to see. Below them the barnyard lay empty and misty in the dawn, and beyond, the wall of trees was motionless in the windless air. No sound came up from the house.

But as the light grew, the drum-taps grew louder. Birds were fluttering about excitedly on the roof and in the trees. But wherever the robbers were waiting, they were keeping very quiet. Freginald went to the stairway and looked down, but the guards were on duty. He went back to the window. Now he could hear the tramp and scuffle of marching feet. Leo couldn't sit still. “Where
are
they?” he said. “I wish I could see them. They must be at the end of the road now.”

A bugle blew two clear notes and the drum stopped. For a few minutes nothing happened. Then the horse that had challenged them yesterday came pushing through the bushes, and behind him Bill Wonks, mounted on Mr. Huber and carrying a white flag on the end of a stick.

“By George!” said Leo, “that's the chief for you! He certainly does things with a dash. Sending out a flag of truce for a parley.”

Bill was indeed a warlike figure sitting his horse in the misty early sunlight. He wore a tall fur cap and a tight, long-skirted Cossack coat. Freginald recognized the costume. It was one that Mr. Blodgett, the ring-master, wore when he and Mademoiselle Rose did feats of horsemanship in the show.

Presently the bull came out of somewhere back of the house and he and Bill talked together. They were too far away for the prisoners to hear what they said. But after a few minutes the bull seemed to get angry. He pawed the earth and shook his horns, and Bill, after arguing for a little longer, saluted and rode back into the thicket. The bull turned and trotted off heavily round the corner of the house.

For a little while there was silence. The mist in the barnyard thinned and the sunlight became warmer. And then all at once things began to happen. Behind the trees the bugle blew, there was a roll from the snare drums which ended in a double boom from the bass drum, and then, with a blare of brass, the band crashed into the marching song that Freginald had made up for them. The drum boomed, there was a crackling and smashing of branches, and then the words of the song, roared out by half a hundred voices, filled the morning.

Red and gold wagons are coming down the street

With a Boomschmidt, Boomschmidt, boom, boom, boom;

With shouting and music and tramp of marching feet

And a Boomschmidt, Boomschmidt, boom, boom, boom.

Hear the squeal of the cornets and the rattle of the snares;

The fifes scream shrilly and the trombone blares,

And here come the lions and the tigers and the bears,

With a Boomschmidt, Boomschmidt, BOOM!

Here come the caribou and kangaroos and camels,

The koodoos, zebus, zebras, and yaks,

The hippopotamuses and the rhinoceroses

And the big gray elephants with houses on their backs.

Boom—be quick! Buy a ticket at the wicket.

Boom—get your pink lemonade. Get your gum.

Boom—get your peanuts, popcorn, lollipops.

Boom—Mr. Boom—Mr. Boomschmidt's come.

Louder and nearer came the singing and then there was a shaking in the wall of foliage, a whole row of trees bowed forward to the watchers, and three huge gray heads appeared! The elephants! They came on slowly, steadily, tramping down and brushing aside trees and bushes as if they were made of paper, opening a road for the others. On the middle elephant, an old giant named Hannibal, with tusks four feet long, sat Mr. Boomschmidt, his hat on the back of his head, his mouth open in a wide O as he bawled the words of the song. The little houses on the backs of the other elephants were crowded with monkeys. Then to the left of the three a smaller head appeared, and Freginald saw that it was Louise.

The elephants headed straight for the house. And now the rest of the circus came into sight. As they followed through the breach in the wall, they spread out. To the left of the elephants was Jerry, the rhinoceros, then a small company of lions, tigers, and leopards, then a detachment of cavalry under Mr. Blodgett. To the right were two alligators, then Oscar the ostrich, then the buffalo, Uncle Bill, and the rest of the men, armed with poles. Behind the elephants marched the band.

“I'll bet Eustace is there,” said Leo. “Small as he is, there's one animal that wouldn't miss a fight. Gosh, Fredg, I wish we could get into it.”

“There's a loose board in the floor just back of us,” said Freginald. “Maybe we could get it up.” He turned away from the window, but a sudden wild bellowing and a thunder of hoofs brought him back. From the barn where they had been concealed a big company of the shaggy cattle with the old bull at their head were charging down upon the attackers. They struck the line at the right, where it was held by Oscar and the alligators. The alligators didn't mind; they crouched close to the ground and let the charge go over them, lifting their heads to snap at the enemy as they passed. Uncle Bill had locked horns with one tough old cow and was pushing her back toward the house. But Oscar and the men had been thrown back into the woods.

The elephants wheeled to the left to protect the broken line, but Mr. Boomschmidt waved to the rhinoceros. “Break in the front door,” he shouted. Jerry backed off to the edge of the woods to get a good start, pawed the ground twice, then drove like a black battering-ram straight at the house. Both sides stopped fighting a moment to watch. And the old bull laughed deep in his throat. For he knew that behind that door was a barricade of grain-bags and heavy furniture that even a rhinoceros could not break through.

Now, Jerry was no brighter than most rhinoceroses, which amounts to saying that he wasn't bright at all. For one thing, his eyes were weak, so that he couldn't see exactly where the door was, and for another, he always closed them when he charged so that he wouldn't get dust in them. So he missed one of the pillars and a bad headache by a quarter of an inch and hit the side of the house a good three feet to the left of the door, where there was no barricade. And with a terrible crash he went right through.

And there were two smaller crashes inside as he went through the partitions from the parlor into the dining-room and from the dining-room into the kitchen, and then another terrible crash, and there he was galloping off into the woods on the other side. He had gone right through the house.

In the meantime Leo and Freginald, working with tooth and claw, had ripped up several boards in the attic floor. Below, between the beams, was the lath and plaster of the ceiling underneath.

“We'll have to dive through,” said Freginald. “If we try to break it away so we can crawl through, the guards will hear us and they've got awful sharp horns.”

“Right,” said Leo. “Are you ready? Let's go.” So they shut their eyes and dove.

The crash they made was a pretty good one, but the guards didn't hear it, for they were looking over the banisters to see Jerry. Freginald and Leo caught them there and with a good shove sent them rolling down the stairs, horns over tail. Then they sat down to have a good sneezing fit to get the plaster out of their noses.

But they hadn't gained much. The hall downstairs was full of the enemy. A goat who had got in the way when Jerry came through the house was lying in a corner with a pillow under his head, but the rest of the animals were pretty mad. Twice they tried to rush the stairs and both times there was a good sharp fight before they were beaten back. And at last a party of dogs came up the back stairs, and Freginald and Leo had to retreat to a big room over the porch which had been Colonel Yancey's bedroom.

“Anyway,” said Leo, “we can see what is going on from here, and we couldn't from the stairs.” So they propped a bureau against the door and went to the window.

The bull had re-formed his company and drawn them up about the house. A few had been cut off and chased into the woods, and the alligators and Uncle Bill had put several others out of commission. On the other hand, Oscar, who had done a good deal of damage in the open fighting by chasing the cattle and kicking them, had finally sprained his toe. And a Mr. Gissing, one of the stablemen, had been tossed into a tree by the bull and wouldn't come down again.

For a moment the battle was at a standstill. The bull hesitated to risk another charge, and Mr. Boomschmidt didn't like to order even the elephants to advance upon the forest of sharp horns. And while they were getting their breath, there was a loud crash, and two small crashes, and then a terrible crash. And there was Jerry. He had run half a mile before he realized that he had gone through the house. Because he had had his eyes shut. So then he turned around and shut his eyes and came back through it again.

He came up to Mr. Boomschmidt and said: “How'm I doing, boss?”

“Fine, Jerry. Fine,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “Isn't he doing fine, Hannibal?”

“Shall I take another crack at it?” asked Jerry.

“Well, if you think it's all right,” said Mr. Boomschmidt. “I don't want you to get a headache, Jerry. Goodness, it makes
my
head ache just to watch you.”

“Pooh!” said Jerry. “A little old frame house! Takes more than that to make my head ache.”

“He hasn't got much to ache, you know, sir,” said Hannibal.

“Oh, is that so!” said the rhinoceros. And then he thought a minute and said: “Is that so!” Rhinoceroses are never much good at repartee. Their minds are too slow. Although if Jerry could have gone off by himself to think it over for half an hour, he would probably have come back with something pretty good. Hannibal slapped him good-naturedly on the back with his trunk. “Sorry, old boy,” he said. “I didn't mean it. See here, suppose I aim you this time. If you hit one of those pillars, something's going to ache, and ache hard.” So he aimed Jerry, and said: “One, two, three—go!” And Jerry drove at the house again, puffing like a steam engine, and there were four crashes as before, but this time they were followed by a crackling and splitting sound, and one corner of the house leaned over toward the ground.

At this the bull stepped out in the open space between the two parties. “Hey, look here,” he growled. “No sense smashing our house down. Let's settle this sensibly. I'll fight any one of your party you name. If I win you hand over my lieutenant and go away. If I lose, we give up the lion and the bear. That's what you want, isn't it?”