XVII
When Grover and his army got back after the conquest and annexation of Witherspoonia, scouts were sent out in all directions to find Freddy. But no trace of him could be found. And as nobody but the wasps seemed to have had anything to do with his escape, Grover had no one to punish.
He didn’t particularly want to punish anybody, anyway. His first day in office had, he felt, been highly successful. He had added a state to the F.A.R. The country was quiet—even the members of the Farmers’ Party seemed resigned to his rule. Old Whibley and Vera, it is true, with Ferdinand and a small band of the robber crows who had not gone home after voting for Mrs. Wiggins, waged a sort of guerrilla warfare on his government, swooping out from their stronghold in the woods to attack his army, or to drive from their nests the birds whom he had brought in to vote for him. But old Whibley, Grover felt, could be attended to later.
During the next few days, while Freddy was spending most of his time in the sheriff’s barn in Centerboro, trying to think out some scheme for bringing Mrs. Wiggins back into power, the armies of the F.A.R. carried a lightning campaign through the valley, annexing in quick succession the states of Macia, Smithia, Johnsonia, Winterbottomia, and Bodgettia. They fought only one battle, when the Winterbottom animals, led by an old circus horse named Charlie, learned in advance of their march and tried to trap them in a narrow ravine on Wigwam Creek. Charlie had planned to ambush them and roll rocks down on them, but a squadron of meadowlarks, scouting in advance of the column, discovered the ambush in time. Grover altered the course of his march, came upon the enemy from the rear, and, instead of the rocks, a number of the Winterbottom animals rolled to the bottom of the ravine before the rest surrendered and submitted to annexation.
Each afternoon, after the return of the army, Grover held court in the loft of the barn. He—or rather Bertram—sat in Uncle Ben’s chair, with John Quincy on one shoulder and X on the other, and the two herons behind him. On the long work-bench sat the members of his staff. Here Bertram gave out orders, and made laws, and handed down judgments. It was here that Charlie and two of his lieutenants were sentenced to six months’ imprisonment.
But though the Farmers’ Party seemed to have resigned itself to Grover’s overlordship, there was a good deal of undercover activity going on. Nearly every night Jinx and John and the dogs and some of the chickens sneaked into the cow-barn, where they held muttered conferences with the cows and Hank. Sometimes old Whibley came for a moment, to report progress, and every night Jacob brought messages from Freddy, whom he visited every day. A great many plans had been proposed, but none of them were very good. And they all felt that when they finally took action, the plan they acted upon must be perfect.
Freddy, in the meanwhile, had been eating, and thinking. About as much of the one as of the other, for the sheriff set a good table. But the more he ate, the fatter he got, and the fatter he got, the better he felt, and the better he felt, the clearer he could think. And at last he thought of something.
He put on the gingham dress and the bonnet and the curls and the mitts and set off for the bank.
“Good morning, Mrs. O’Halloran,” said Mr. Weezer.
“Good mornin’ to you, sir,” said Freddy. “I’ve come to do business with you.”
“Good,” said Mr. Weezer.
“’Tis an agreement I want from you, Mr. Weezer,” said Freddy. “You’ll agree that the day the First Animal makes a rule that it will take no more business from anybody but an animal or a bird, you will do certain things.”
“Ah,” said Mr. Weezer, “and what are the things?”
So Freddy told him, and after a little argument Mr. Weezer agreed. And he wrote out the agreement and signed it. And when Freddy had folded it up and tucked it away in the shopping bag, he took off his sunbonnet.
Mr. Weezer’s mouth and eyes flew open as if they had little springs in them, and his glasses didn’t fall off—they jumped. And he said: “A pig!”
“Yes, sir,” said Freddy. “And very glad not to have to talk that Irish stuff any more, for it was beginning to get the best of me, and if it had gone on much longer, I would never have been able to talk anything else.”
Mr. Weezer leaned down and brushed up the fragments of his glasses from the floor and threw them into the wastebasket.
“I’m sorry about the glasses,” said Freddy.
“They’re only window glass,” said Mr. Weezer. “As a matter of fact, I can see better without them. I only wear them because it makes me look more like a bank president.”
“I never thought of that,” said Freddy. “I shall have to get a pair. That is, if the First Animal stays in business.”
“What!” said Mr. Weezer. “You are Freddy, the president of the First Animal? The famous detective? Of course, I might have known.”
“You might,” said Freddy, “but you didn’t. And now, as one bank president to another, and to be perfectly frank with you, I don’t want to injure the First National, and from now on the First Animal will do business only with animals. And now for your part of the contract.”
So Mr. Weezer sat down and wrote the following letter:
Hon. Grover
President First Animal Republic
Bean Farm, N.Y.
Honored Sir:
Having learned of the magnificent project which you have recently undertaken, and of the glorious victories of your armies, on which I heartily congratulate you, I take the liberty of writing to ask if you will do me the favor of calling on me at my home tomorrow evening, Friday, at eight o’clock. Knowing that you are a banker of wide experience, there are several matters which I should like to discuss with you. I need hardly point out that in waging a war of conquest, it is important to have the bankers on your side. I am on your side, respected sir, but in order to be practically useful, I feel that we should come to an agreement.
Awaiting your esteemed reply, I am,
Yours respectfully,
Henry Q. Weezer
President, First National Bank of Centerboro
The letter was sent at once by messenger, and half an hour later a starling flew in the bank window carrying Grover’s reply in his beak. Mr. Weezer opened it and spread it out on the table. It had been written on Freddy’s typewriter, and there were a good many mistakes in it, for Freddy was the only animal on the farm who could use a typewriter. But it speaks very well for Grover, I think, that he had been able to type it at all.
mR. Hen!yQW33zer
president Frst Nat.Bank
centerboro
Inreply to yours of eveb date
wish tolstate#I SHall
be plexscd to waitt on/you
at ¢ at $ at 8 o(clok onevening
of FRIDAY MAY *—may @¢
may *!3!” i will bethere
Grover President FAR
“Good!” said Freddy. “I thought he’d come. I expect he was pretty thrilled to be asked to call on a real banker in his home. Well, now for our arrangements.” He put on his bonnet and hurried back to the sheriff’s barn, where Jacob was waiting to carry his instructions to the farm.