Freddy Rides Again by Walter R. Brooks Read Free Book Online Page A

on to the saddle in front of Freddy, and they rode on.
    Old Whibley, the owl, lived up in the woods with his niece, Vera. Freddy usually went to him for advice when he got in a jam, and it was good advice, but it was never much fun getting it, for Whibley was pretty grumpy and sarcastic. Today they found him in a good mood, however. He came out of his hole in the big tree at the first tap Freddy gave on the trunk, and floated down to perch opposite Cy’s head. “Well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t the Masked Bandit of Roast Pig Gulch! Or is that your own face, and not a mask? Ah yes, I see it is now. Well, well; so you’ve brought me some lunch,” he went on, staring with his big eyes at Theodore. “Very thoughtful.”
    â€œOh, golly,” said the frog, as he scrambled quickly up into the pocket of Freddy’s thunder and lightning shirt. “What a life! I get out of one mess right into another.”
    â€œOut of the rattlesnake into the owl—if you’ll permit me to adapt an old proverb,” said Whibley.
    â€œHow’s that?” said Freddy. “How did you know we’d seen a rattler?”
    â€œBeen watching that fellow for a couple of days,” Whibley said. “Don’t dare tackle him in the daytime, but I’ll catch him in the open some night and then I’ll have me a rattlesnake pie. Not as tasty as frog—” Theodore, who had poked his head out of the pocket, ducked hastily down—“but more filling.”
    â€œI hope you catch him soon,” Freddy said. “What’s he doing here anyway?”
    â€œForest fires up north this fall,” said the owl. “Driven everybody out of that section of woods. Most of ’em gone back home now, but this fellow finds it easy to pick up a living around here—plenty of young rabbits and field mice—and he’s in no hurry to leave.”
    â€œThat’s what I came to ask about,” said Freddy. “We think he’s after Alice and Emma. We thought you’d know how to get rid of him.”
    â€œOnly one way,” said Whibley. “Bite his head off. You want to try it?”
    Freddy said: “I thought maybe you’d help me. But if that’s all the advice you can give me—”
    â€œI’ve got no advice to give you,” said the owl, “except to keep away from him. Some night I’ll get him. Until then, you and your friends keep out of his way.”
    Freddy knew that it was good advice. Just the same, he thought, there must be some way, if I could only think of it. I’ve got to do some thinking.
    The only trouble with thinking was that he couldn’t think really hard for more than a few minutes without dropping off to sleep. This is not peculiar to pigs; many people have the same trouble. Indeed some of them don’t even know it, and they will rouse up and say: “My, I’ve been thinking hard; I’d better rest a while,” when they’ve been snoring away like anything for the past hour.
    Freddy had found that the best way to keep awake when he wanted to think was to go for a ride. Then if he dozed he fell off, and that usually woke him up again. Also, he could test any thoughts he got by trying them out on Cy, who had a good level head. Cy said that if some cowboys would talk things over with their horses, they would keep out of a lot of trouble. So they went for a ride.
    And Freddy did get an idea. It came to him just as he was trotting down the back road between the Big Woods and the Bean Woods. He dismounted and he and Cy and Theodore sat down by the roadside and talked it over; and then they went back home. They were just going across the barnyard when they heard a loud yell of laughter.
    â€œGolly,” said Freddy. “I know that voice!” And Cy said: “Yeah. Wonder who he’s a making fun of today!” They rode around the other side of the stable and saw Billy