Free Freddy Goes to the North Pole by Walter R. Brooks Page B

even the feather bed.
    With a muffled squawk he wriggled out and jumped and flapped his wings agitatedly, and the whiteness broke up into flakes and dust and whirled about his head, and when it at last settled, he saw what had really happened: he had been sleeping under a blanket of snow, six inches thick, that had fallen during the night.
    Charles grinned sheepishly and shivered and hopped up on to a low branch. Of course! They had been snowed under. Those two big white mounds with smaller mounds between them were Uncle William and the bear, who slept one on each side of the children to keep them warm. That other big mound was Mrs. Wiggins; he could hear her snoring gently and see a little whirl of snow fly up with every breath from where her nose was; and one horn was sticking out. And beyond were lower mounds where the other animals were snoozing away in their feather beds. Yes, and up on that spruce limb was Ferdinand, his head under his wing, and a little heap of snow piled up between his shoulders. Charles threw back his head and flapped his wings and gave a loud, shrill crow.
    At once the snow blanket began to heave and bulge and heads and legs and horns stuck out through it, and presently all the animals were on their feet, shaking snow out of their fur, their noses steaming like so many teakettles in the cold morning air.
    â€œMy gracious!” said Mrs. Wiggins. “This is winter with a vengeance!”
    Ferdinand cawed derisively. “Winter!” he exclaimed. “Why this is nothing— nothing to what’s coming. Maybe you animals’ll wake up to the fact some time that this isn’t any picnic we’re going on.”
    â€œOh my goodness!” said the cow. “Who said it was? Can’t I make a single remark about the weather without your jumping all over me?”
    â€œOh, who’s jumping all over you?” snapped the crow. “I just get sick of hearing you complain when there isn’t anything to complain about.”
    â€œI’m complaining about you,” retorted Mrs. Wiggins, “and I guess anyone here will bear me out that there’s something to complain about.”
    â€œHe, he!” snickered the goat.” Laugh that one off, Ferd. That’s a hot one, that is.”
    Bill’s laughter made the crow mad. He hopped down to the ground. “Look here,” he said, “if there’s any dissatisfaction with me as leader of this expedition, I want to know about it now.”
    â€œNo, no!” said all the animals. “We’re perfectly satisfied. You’re a fine leader. Mrs. Wiggins didn’t mean anything.” But Ferdinand walked straight up to the cow. “And how about you?” he asked, looking her straight in the eye.
    â€œMy goodness!” she said again. “This has all come up very suddenly. I didn’t really mean anything against you, Ferdinand.”
    â€œThen you’ve no complaint to make?” he demanded.
    Now, Mrs. Wiggins was very good-natured, and she didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, but she didn’t see why she should have to back down when she hadn’t really done anything. So she said boldly: “Yes, I have.”
    â€œAll right,” said Ferdinand grimly. “Out with it.”
    The cow hesitated. She couldn’t really think of anything she had against the crow, except that he was bad-tempered and bossy and disagreeable, and she didn’t want to use any of those words because she was afraid they might make him feel bad. If she could only think of one that didn’t mean quite so much; even one that didn’t mean anything at all would be better.… And then she suddenly remembered a word that she had heard in a story that Freddy had been reading out loud one night in the cow-barn. She didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded like the right kind of word. So she said: “Well, if you want to know, I think you’re too