Free Freddy Rides Again by Walter R. Brooks Page A

get along with folks that stand up to attention and say ‘sir.’ We don’t do that up here much—”
    â€œNo?” said Mr. Margarine with a sneer. “Your friends, Witherspoon and Macy and the rest of them seem willing enough to do as I want them to. And they’re paid well for it. They’re smart; they know which side their bread is buttered on.”
    â€œThey’re smarter than you think,” said Mr. Bean. “Sure, they like your money. But they don’t like being pushed around. And before long they’re going to decide that no money is big enough to put up with it any longer—” He stopped, as a sudden great cackling and laughing broke out over by the henhouse.
    While his father talked, Billy had been exploring the barnyard. The henhouse had what was rather an unusual feature, a revolving door. With twenty-seven children running in and out all day long, and often forgetting to close the door after them, it isn’t surprising that it had been hard to keep the place warm; and when Henrietta had complained of the cold, Mr. Bean had had the door put in. It was this door that had caught Billy’s eye. And as he watched the door whirl and the chickens run in and out, he began to laugh.
    It was a perfectly natural thing for him to laugh at, but the animals had had about enough of Billy’s laughter. And now they knew how to stop it. Charles, who was sitting on the henhouse roof, and Jinx and Bill, who were standing nearby, watching Mr. Margarine, started it. They began to laugh. Then the chickens rushed out and Freddy and Georgie and Robert, the collie, came up and they all joined in. They stood around Billy and laughed at him, and their laughter was three times as loud as his.
    Billy couldn’t take it. He turned and rode over to his father and, pointing his finger back at the henhouse, evidently accused the animals of making fun of him. But nobody could hear what he said, for the animals had followed him, and the cows and Cy and Hank had come out, and even Sniffy Wilson, the skunk, and his family, who had come down to call, joined the crowd, and they formed a circle about Billy and his father and just laughed.
    The animals closed in slowly, keeping one eye on Mr. Bean, who was inside the circle too, of course. If he had shown even the faintest sign of disapproval, they would at once have stopped and gone away. But he didn’t move a finger—just stood there in the deepening twilight looking up at Mr. Margarine.
    The animals laughed for a full minute—and a minute is a long time when you’re being laughed at. And if Billy couldn’t take it, neither could Mr. Margarine. Probably nobody had ever dared to laugh at him before. He raised his whip threateningly as if to cut at Mr. Bean. “Drive these animals away!” he shouted.
    Probably he didn’t really intend to strike Mr. Bean. But the animals weren’t taking any chances with him. The laughs turned into growls, and they moved in quickly. Hank and Cy and the cows shoved against the horses and the dogs nipped their heels and herded them towards the gate. The smaller animals crowded to get a bite or a scratch if they had a chance. Mr. Margarine and Billy tried to use their whips, but they were pushed around so violently that it was all they could do to stick to their saddles.
    They were herded through the gate, and it was there that Charles performed probably the most spectacularly heroic act of his entire career. The rooster always talked very big, but when the time came to act he was usually somewhere else. Once in a while, though, when he was good and mad, he would become completely reckless. And now, as the Margarines turned out into the road, Charles took off from the henhouse roof, sailed across the barnyard, and flew straight into Mr. Margarine’s face. Squawking angrily, he beat at the man with his wings, pecked him twice on the nose, and ended by knocking off his