Free Freddy Rides Again by Walter R. Brooks Page B

elegant derby hat, which fell into the dirt and was trampled by the horses.
    And then to complete their defeat, as they started up the road towards home, Freddy pulled out his pistol and fired two of his blank cartridges in the air.
    As the sound of galloping hoofs died away, the animals fell back. Mr. Bean was still standing in the middle of the barnyard. And then as they watched to see what he would do, he walked across and picked up the battered derby hat and set it carefully on the gatepost. He looked at it a moment critically, then they saw him bend over and slap first one knee and then the other, and they heard the sound of his creaking laughter.

Chapter 8
    Mr. Margarine wasted no time. Late the next morning Sheriff Higgins came rattling out from Centerboro in his old car. As he shut off the engine and climbed out, Freddy came running down from the pig pen, for the sheriff was an old friend.
    â€œHi, sheriff,” said the pig. “How’s everything at the jail?”
    But the sheriff just peered blankly at Freddy, then pulled out a paper and held it close to his nose, glancing every now and then at the pig as if comparing him with a written description.
    After a minute he looked up. “Is your name Charles?” he asked, and as Freddy grinned and started to say something: “Charles,” he said. “A rooster. With a sharp beak and blue and green tailfeathers.” He looked Freddy over as if he had never seen him before. “You’ve got the beak all right. But no tailfeathers. Turn around—no, no tailfeathers at all.”
    Freddy thought it was some kind of a joke at first, but the sheriff’s manner made him think that there was something serious back of it. He decided not to laugh, but to play up for a minute or two.
    â€œNo, sir,” he said. “You wish to see this Charles?”
    â€œI got a warrant for his arrest,” said the sheriff. “Also for some queer kind of animal—half pig and half cowboy, according to this description here. Ever see any such critter around here?”
    Freddy said no, he hadn’t.
    â€œI have to do my duty,” the sheriff said. “If I was to see—and recognize—either of these animals, I’d have to take ’em down to the jail. Hold ’em for trial. Seems they attacked this here rich Mr. Margarine last night. Tried to scalp him, shot at him, pecked his nose and damaged his nervous system.”
    â€œI heard something about it,” said Freddy cautiously. “But how could he prove that they attacked him?”
    â€œMan’s got as much money as he has can prove most anything,” said the sheriff. “But I guess there ain’t any trouble to prove it. Seems Mr. Bean saw it all, and he wouldn’t lie about it, even to keep his animals out of jail.”
    â€œNo, I suppose not,” said Freddy. “What do you think will happen to them—if you catch them, that is?”
    â€œWhy, they’ll be tried before Judge Willey, likely. Tried and convicted and sentenced to—oh, probably they’ll get off with a couple years at hard labor. Peckin’ a rich man’s nose—that’s a pretty serious crime in this state. And shootin’ at a rich man—why for shootin’ at a poor man I’ve seen ’em get six months. As for attemptin’ scalpin’—well, we ain’t had a scalpin’ case as long as I’ve been sheriff. Hard to tell how a jury’ll feel about it.” He peered at the paper again. “Forgot my readin’ glasses, I can’t make out the descriptions of these criminals. Maybe you’d like to read ’em to me.” He held the paper out.
    Freddy said: “I’m afraid I haven’t got time just now. There’s something I have to do.”
    The sheriff nodded. “Good thing to do things quick if they have to be done. Folks that fiddle around and put things off, they sometimes end up in