Freddy the Pilot

It was next morning that General Grimm and his staff came back. Freddy saw the big plane circling down towards the pasture when he came out after breakfast. He ran down to the workshop to warn Uncle Ben.

Uncle Ben grinned. He pulled a handful of quarters out of his pocket. “Get up there and scatter these over the ground around your plane. Hurry up before they land. I’ll bring the bombsight.”

When the officers climbed out of their plane and walked over to where Freddy was taking the canvas cover off his engine, Uncle Ben was walking slowly up and down beside him, squinting in the eyepiece of the Self-filling Piggy Bank and stooping every now and then to pick something off the ground.

Uncle Ben looked up and smiled. “Morning, General.” Then he went back to the Piggy Bank.

General Grimm pointed to Freddy’s plane. “No preparation!” he shouted. “Army’s time wasted! Outrageous!”

Colonel Tablet said: “The General feels that since you were notified that we wished another test of the bombsight, you should be ready for us. I see neither bombs nor bombsight.”

Uncle Ben stopped an picked up a quarter which he held out to the Colonel. But General Grimm seized his arm. “What’s this?” he demanded. “Bribing my officers?”

“Found it,” said Uncle Ben. “With bombsight. Walk along, look in eyepiece, flicker-flicker, money on ground.” He illustrated, picked up another quarter then held out the bombsight to the General. “Try it.”

The General crooked a finger. “Tablet!” he said, and Col. Tablet took the Piggy Bank and began walking along, peering in the eyepiece. He stopped, leaned down, and picked up a coin. The other officers followed along, watching closely. When he picked up the second quarter, General Grimm held out his hand. “I’ll take those,” he said.

“Tablet!” roared the General, but Col. Drosky said: “Let me try it, sir. I’ll split with you, fifty-fifty.”

“Split, nothing!” said General Grimm. “Work it myself.” And he tried to take the Piggy Bank from the Colonel.

They were both trying to pull it away from each other when General Grumby laid a hand on General Grimm’s shoulder. “Better let me try it, Grimm,” he said. “Machine looks dangerous to me—may be a bomb. We can’t risk our most capable general’s life for twenty-five cents.”

“Well,” said General Grimm doubtfully, but he gave up. General Grumby started off with the Piggy Bank.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Col. Queeck, who had been exchanging a few whispered words with one of the other officers. “I don’t think any general should risk his life in such a dangerous test. Even colonels, if I may say so, sir, are too valuable. But Major Jampers here has offered to try out this machine. Would you let him have it, sir?”

“If you please, sir,” said the Major, stepping forward, “I’m really very happy to take the risk for you. And you know, sir, I’m really not a very good major; no loss at all to the army if I get blown up.”

“With all respect, sir,” said Colonel Drosky, stepping up and saluting General Grimm, “I believe I would be even less loss than Jampers. You told me two days ago that I was a disgrace to the service—remember?” He made a grab at the Piggy Bank.

Four of them now had their hands on the Piggy Bank and were pulling at it. Colonel Drosky jabbed Major Jampers in the ribs with his elbow, and Colonel Queeck and Colonel Drosky started trying to shove each other away, and General Grumby tried to kick Colonel Tablet, and then General Grimm, who had been standing back, took a short run into the middle of the struggling group. And the Benjamin Bean Self-filling Piggy Bank fell to the ground with a smash.

The scuffle stopped, and the officers fell back and watched Uncle Ben as he picked up the Piggy Bank and examined it.

But they ran after him and surrounded him. “Want to order one,” said General Grimm.

“Me too.” “And me.” “I’ll take two.” They all talked at once. “How soon can we get them? How much will they be?”

They all stopped talking. There was silence for a minute, then Colonel Tablet said: “There are eight of us here, counting Captain Gilpin and Lieutenant Flapp over there in the plane. If we all chip in and buy one—form a club—”

“I think generals ought to chip in more than the lower ranks,” said Major Jampers.

“Right!” said Colonel Queeck. “Generals, three hundred. Other ranks, h’m—six goes into four hundred—”

Freddy had been so interested that he hadn’t noticed a large figure which was toiling up the slope from the barnyard. But as the man climbed clumsily over the lower wall, Freddy saw him and ran to meet him. Only something very important would make Mr. Ollie Groper take so much exercise.

Groper leaned panting against the wall and mopped his face. “Hope this here peregrination … have no deleterious effect … my accustomed salubrity,” he gasped. “Shall endeavor … achieve brevity.” He paused, then said hastily, and in a different tone: “You know a muskrat named Lyman?” Having said which he looked embarrassed, no doubt at having used so many ordinary words.

“Sure,” said Freddy. “Friend of Sniffy Wilson’s. Lives down on the flats.”

Mr. Groper was getting his breath back. “Would it astonish and perplex you to learn that this Lyman and that there eminent jurist, Mr. Montague Newsome, are involved in some nefarious intrigue?”

“Allow me to conclude my narration,” said Mr. Groper. It took some time, but at the end of it Freddy was in possession of some curious facts. Lyman had come into the hotel and asked for Mr. Newsome. Mr. Groper had naturally been somewhat surprised to have a muskrat come up to the desk and ask for a guest, but he had given Lyman Mr. Newsome’s room number. Lyman had gone up in the elevator, and after about an hour he and the lawyer had come down. Mr. Newsome had made two long distance telephone calls, and then he and Lyman had got in his car and driven off.

Mr. Groper had naturally been somewhat surprised.

But the important thing was what Mr. Groper had overheard. It had been hot in the telephone booth in the lobby, and by the end of his second call Mr. Newsome was perspiring heavily and hardly able to breathe. So he had opened the door, and Mr. Groper had heard him say: “No, don’t fly to the field. It’s only four miles to West Nineveh, and there’s a field there. I’ll meet you there with the car. That way you won’t attract too much attention.” There was silence for a minute or so, and then he said: “According to the information I have, it does work on silver, gold and copper. And it will be easy to get.” Then he hung up. “You think it was Condiment he was talking to?” Freddy asked.

“Consideration of all the circumstances confirms that conclusion,” Mr. Groper agreed.

“I think so too,” said the pig. “And they’re after the Piggy Bank, as well as Mademoiselle Rose. But I don’t see …” He thought a minute. “Condiment is going to fly from Philadelphia up to West Ninevah, and Newsome will pick him up there and drive to their secret airfield. They’ll come down here and try to steal the Piggy Bank. But if I know Condiment, he’ll send someone else to do that job—he won’t come himself. That means that when whoever he sends starts for the farm, Condiment will probably be alone at the airfield. I guess that’s my chance.” He glanced around at the army officers who were still pressing in a tight group around Uncle Ben, shouting and waving their arms as they wrangled about how much each should pay towards the Piggy Bank. “Guess I’ll have to fly to Centerboro first. I’d take you, only I expect you’ve got your car.”

“Aerial locomotion,” said Mr. Groper, “ain’t among my desiderata. I got a predilection for terrene ambulation. So while in the vicinity, guess I’ll indulge in a colloquy with the estimable Beans.”

Freddy thanked him as they walked down towards the house. At the back porch they parted, and Freddy went in to see Mrs. Wiggins. First he drew her a map of the secret airfield. It looked like this:

“I’m leaving you this just in case,” he said. “I can’t tell you my plans, because I haven’t really got any yet. I’m just going scouting. But if you don’t hear from me in three or four days, maybe you’d better send—let me see, J. J. Pomeroy’s a pretty slow flyer, even for a robin, but he’s dependable. Yes, send him up to look around.”