CHAPTER

16

Freddy found Mr. Pomeroy waiting for him when he got back to the camp.

“I’ve found out who that fellow is that the mice heard the spies talk to over the phone,” said the robin. “Fellow named Rendell, remember? Well, he’s got a helicopter down at the fairgrounds, and he takes people up for five dollars a ride. He must be the man I heard those roadblock guys talking about. The one that’s supposed to pick up the plans and take ’em up to the secret base in Canada.”

“That’s right,” said Freddy. “And it’ll be a cinch, now that the road block is cleared up and all the other spies are gone. I guess maybe I wasn’t so smart to get rid of them. There’ll be nobody to shoot him down. All he’s got to do is come down on the lawn and they’ll give him the tube.”

“I don’t believe he plans to land,” said Mr. Pomeroy. “He’s got a basket on a long rope—I looked the copter over this morning. He’ll hover, and let down the basket for them to put the tube in. And according to what the mice heard he’s to come Friday, or the next calm night if Friday’s stormy. Today’s Thursday. I wonder why they put it off so long.”

“Waiting for the dark of the moon,” said Freddy.

“Oh, sure. But golly, Freddy, we’ve got to do something quick. If he gets away with the plans—Psst! Here come the spies!” he whispered, and flew up into one of the trees.

Penobsky and Smirnoff were coming down the path from the house. They seemed to be unarmed. They stopped in front of Freddy, and Penobsky said: “My associate tells me that he promised you a hundred dollars if you could drive away all these people who have been watching us. You seem to have done it. We will pay you. But we must first be sure that they do not come back. If they are not back by Saturday morning, we will pay you then.”

“That was not the agreement,” Freddy said. “I have driven them away. I want the money.” He didn’t want to take money from the spies at all, but he thought he ought to protest.

Penobsky smiled and shook his head. “It is no good to us if they come back,” he said.

Freddy wondered where Uncle Ben was. An hour or so ago he had gone up the brook with a fishing rod, to find out if any spies were still watching the house. If he would only come back, with his shotgun, there would be a good chance of capturing these two. Then there would be only the two others to deal with. Just how he would deal with them he didn’t know, but Penobsky and Smirnoff, as prisoners, would be something to bargain with. But he’d frighten them off if he called Uncle Ben.

Freddy’s back was to the caravan, about which stood Mrs. Wiggins, Bill, and the two horses. The dogs were pretending to be asleep under the wagon, and Jinx was sitting beside them. Freddy motioned to them, behind his back, to come closer. Then with a quick jerk he pulled the black wig and the bright scarf from his head and tossed them to the ground. “Remember me?” he said.

“Hey!” Penobsky exclaimed. “You were in the jail. You’re that educated pig of Bean’s that stole the flying saucer plans!”

“And you’re the one that stole them from me,” said Freddy.

“That’s right.” Penobsky grinned at him. He didn’t seem at all alarmed.

“Ha!” said Smirnoff. “This is clever piggy you are telling me about it. He does sleeping walk, eh?” He winked good-naturedly at Freddy.

But Freddy said sharply: “Put your hands up!” and he pulled the cap pistol from the pocket of his skirt and pointed it at them.

It was one of those cap pistols that you load with a coiled ribbon of caps, so that it shoots a cap as often as you pull the trigger until the coil is used up. The two spies laughed heartily and held their hands above their heads. “Sure, sure,” said Penobsky. “We mustn’t take chances with such a dangerous gunman.”

Smirnoff pretended to be frightened. “You no shoot poor old Smirnoff, Mr. Piggy, eh?” He made his knees shake.

But Freddy was serious. “This is not a toy, gentlemen,” he said. “This is an atomic pistol, invented by Mr. Benjamin Bean. It is the Benjamin Bean Practical Disintegrator. You see that bird up there?” He pointed to where Mr. Pomeroy perched on a twig some ten yards distant. “Watch him. You will see him fall.” He spoke more loudly than usual, so that the robin would know what was expected of him. Then he pointed the pistol and pulled the trigger.

The cap snapped, and Mr. Pomeroy, grabbing at his glasses with one claw, tumbled off the twig. He fell straight down for ten feet, then spread his wings and planed off into the field across the brook.

The spies stopped laughing abruptly. They knew that Freddy was associated with Uncle Ben. They knew Uncle Ben’s reputation. Freddy could see what they were thinking—that a man who could build a flying saucer could perfectly well build a practical disintegrator. And after all, the bird had been knocked from the tree.

Penobsky pulled himself together. He tried to laugh. “Phooey,” he said. “The bird flew away.” His hands came down.

“Keep your hands away from your pockets,” Freddy ordered, and swung the pistol from one to the other. “You still are unconvinced? Then watch that cat.” He pointed the pistol at Jinx and pulled the trigger.

The cat yowled, jumped in the air, rolled over twice and came to rest on his back, all four legs in the air, even his tail sticking straight up.

“The darn clown!” Freddy said angrily to himself. “Doesn’t he realize that this business is serious? I wish he wouldn’t always try to be funny.”

Smirnoff went over to Jinx, prodded him, rolled him over. The cat was limp. He picked him up by the tail and tossed him over toward the caravan. Jinx fell in a heap and didn’t stir. Freddy thought: “I take it all back—that was a good performance. My gosh, I believe we’ve put it over!”

The spies looked at each other. There was doubt in their eyes. Penobsky’s hand moved toward his coat pocket, but Freddy swung the cap pistol toward him, and the movement stopped. Smirnoff glanced over his shoulder toward the path and gave a startled exclamation. His retreat was cut off; Mrs. Wiggins had moved up silently behind him; the tip of her left horn was three inches from his coat tails. The goat and the horses and the dogs were moving in too.

“Look here, what is all this?” Penobsky exclaimed. “We haven’t got those plans. They’ve been passed on long before this.”

Freddy said: “No. They are in the house. You, Mr. Penobsky, are my prisoner. Mr. Smirnoff is free to go. When he brings the plans to us, we will release you. If he does not return with them, we will inform the F.B.I. and turn you over to them.”

Penobsky shrugged his shoulders. “You seem to have the advantage of us,” he said dejectedly. He said something to his associate in a strange language. The other answered shortly. “I have told Smirnoff to get the plans,” Penobsky said.

Smirnoff turned as if to push Mrs. Wiggins aside and go up the path to the house, and it was in just those few seconds when the two men were separated and Freddy could no longer threaten both with the cap pistol, that disaster overtook him. Smirnoff swung around, and there was a heavy pistol in his fist, and at the same moment Penobsky struck down hard on Freddy’s fore-trotter. The cap pistol spun out of his grasp. Penobsky dove for it, pointed it at Freddy and pulled the trigger.

Freddy had only a split second in which to choose what to do. But it took him less than that to realize that the only sensible thing now was to play dead. He gave a squeal and two groans and fell flat on his face. It was a good fall, he thought; almost as good as Jinx’s.

The animals had dropped back at the sight of Smirnoff’s gun. The spies stood over Freddy, talking. Penobsky knelt down and felt of the pig’s left fore-trotter. The left one still had the sand-filled glove on; Freddy had taken off the right glove so that he could handle the cap pistol. It apparently didn’t occur to Penobsky, as he felt the cold glove and tried to find the pulse, that he must be feeling of a fake hand, since pigs aren’t usually equipped with hands and feet. He looked up at Smirnoff and shook his head as much as to say: “I guess he’s gone.” They talked for a minute, then Penobsky looked Freddy over for a bullet hole. Freddy held his breath.

After a few minutes Penobsky got up. The two men examined the cap pistol, shaking their heads incredulously. Smirnoff handed his gun to Penobsky and took the pistol. He pointed it at Bill, who had wandered off toward the water, and pulled the trigger.

Bill was quite willing to oblige. He felt that he could put on a better show than Jinx had. He reared up on his hind legs, turned two cartwheels, and then tried a back somersault. It was perhaps fortunate that he slipped, for the spies would certainly be suspicious if he had succeeded with such complicated acrobatics. He fell and bumped his head on a rock. But he had the sense to lie still.

The men walked over and inspected him; then they looked at the pistol again, and shook their heads over it. But evidently they were now convinced that it was all that Freddy claimed for it. They went back to Freddy, talked for a time, then Smirnoff pocketed the cap pistol, heaved the pig up on his shoulder, and started up the path with him.

At the house, Penobsky opened the cellar door, and Smirnoff carried Freddy down and dumped him on the concrete floor. Then he went back and got Bill and Jinx. Evidently they did not realize that the other animals could talk, and hoped to conceal from Uncle Ben that their three companions had been shot.

When the men had gone, Freddy said in a whisper: “You all right, Bill? You took a pretty hard fall.”

“My left horn aches,” said the goat. “It was a neat performance though, wasn’t it?”

“Neat like falling downstairs,” said Freddy.

“Pity you didn’t break your neck,” said Jinx. “That would have made it perfect.”

“Pity you didn’t break your neck,” said Jinx.

“Aw, you’re just jealous,” said Bill. “Look, Freddy, what do we do next? Neither door is locked, the one to the outside nor the one to the kitchen. Could we get the plans?”

“I think so,” said Freddy. “You see that electric meter over there on the wall, and the big switch by it? If we wait till night, and pull that switch, I bet it will cut off all the lights, both outside and inside the house. Then if you two get up into the house and make a racket and draw the men off from Penobsky’s room, I can grab the plans and run.”

“Where to?” Jinx asked.

“That’s a good question. Not to the caravan. Uncle Ben will have to hitch up Hank and drive off. He’d better saddle Cy and leave him down at the end of the path. He can’t saddle Bill; you’ll have to ride him bareback, Jinx, till we catch up with the caravan. Uncle Ben can pull off the road and wait for us in the Big Woods.”

A small hoarse voice said: “Uncle Ben has come back and he’s pulling out. I say he’s pulling out. He thinks they’ve spotted who he is.”

“Hello, Samuel,” said Freddy. “Where are the mice?”

“He’s taken them along, and the rabbits and the skunks. He got those ants to get back in the carton, too, and took them. He said you wanted them.”

“That’s right,” Freddy said. He told the mole what they planned to do, and then he said: “You’d better go back and tell Uncle Ben to saddle Cy and leave him, and then get aboard the caravan yourself. You don’t want to be left behind.”

So Samuel went back through the hole and down the tunnel, and the three victims of the Benjamin Bean Practical Disintegrator settled down to wait for it to get dark.

It was a long wait. They didn’t dare talk much, and only Jinx, who moved silently, could do much exploring. But at last they heard a clock upstairs strike eleven. Two of the men, they knew, would be in bed and probably asleep, the other two would be on guard at the kitchen and parlor windows. Freddy got up. “All right, boys,” he said. “Now you know what we have to do.”

They crept up the stairs. The cellar door fortunately didn’t open directly into the kitchen, but into a sort of vestibule between kitchen and dining-room. Very cautiously Freddy opened it a crack, and Jinx crept through. There were no lights on inside the house, but there was a good deal of illumination that came through the windows from the floodlights outside. The cat came back in a minute or two to report that Penobsky was on watch at the parlor window and Franz at the kitchen window. Penobsky’s bedroom then was empty, and the tube of plans was on the table.

“O.K.,” said Freddy. “Let’s go.” He went through the dining-room to the front hall, and tiptoed up the stairs. As he reached the top, all the lights suddenly went off. Bill had pulled the switch. At the same moment there was a series of appalling crashes from the dining-room. Jinx was creating a diversion.

Cats seldom break dishes. They pride themselves on being able to leap from the floor to a mantelpiece crowded with bric-a-brac and thread their way from one end to the other without even brushing against the most fragile and delicately balanced vase. It is a dangerous sport—for Jinx, a broken knickknack meant a licking and no cream for a week. Now, however, he was trying to break everything he could, and he found that it was lots more fun than being careful. He knocked a big bowl off the dining-room table, then jumped to the mantel where he pushed off two pitchers and some glass candlesticks and a big clock, which made a most satisfying smash when it hit the marble hearth. He heard thumps and footsteps upstairs, but before they came down he had time to leap to the sideboard and sweep off a whole row of fancy plates, topping off with a big glass punch bowl. A flashlight flickered in the hall now, and he jumped down and stood close beside the hall door. As two men came pounding into the room, he slipped out without being seen and went back down cellar.

Freddy had ducked into Penobsky’s room when Smirnoff and Ilya came out of their rooms and hurried downstairs. The tube was on the table. He grabbed it, but at the head of the stairs he hesitated. Flashlights were busy in the lower hall, and he heard someone going down the cellar stairs to see what had happened to the lights. He turned back into the room and tried first one window and then the other. But he couldn’t raise either one. He sneaked across the hall into one of the back rooms. As he struggled with the window the floodlights outside suddenly went on. He saw Bill and Jinx racing down the path from the back door to the gate. The window went up. He climbed up on the sill with the tube in his mouth; it was his only chance; the drop, he was sure, wouldn’t hurt him much.

And then a voice behind him said: “Hold it!” and the light in the room went on. Ilya stood there, a huge man in red-and-white-striped pajamas, covering Freddy with a gun.

The gun looked at Freddy with its big black eye, and Freddy looked back at it for a moment in silence. Then he climbed down from the window sill and handed the tube to the spy.