The Story of Freginald by Walter R. Brooks Read Free Book Online Page A

the two guards lowered their horns menacingly.
    Freginald was rather cross with Leo. It seemed to him that a good deal of planning was to be done if they were to escape. But the lion couldn’t seem to think of anything but the remark the bull had made about him. “Dog!” he growled. “Calling me a dog. Me that’s taunted elephants and bearded the rhinoceros in his den. Me whose roar was making the jungle tremble with fear when he was just a blatting calf.”
    So Freginald tried to do some planning by himself. It seemed to him that the only possible thing to do was to try to let Mr. Boomschmidt know where they were. If he could persuade someone to carry a message—perhaps a bird. He could hear birds on the roof and in the trees outside.
    In a dark corner of the barn was a ladder leading up into the hayloft. If he could get up there, perhaps there would be holes in the roof through which he could talk to the birds without being overheard. He started for the ladder when an exclamation from Leo made him turn his head. The guards at the door were standing at attention. And then between them a small important-looking figure marched into the barn.
    It was a very slick and dapper rooster. “Morning, gentlemen,” he said, with a brisk nod. “Quite comfortable, I hope? Yes, yes.” He held up a claw as Leo started to say something. “I quite understand. Most unfortunate, the whole occurrence. No one, I assure you, regrets it more than I do. However, the captain has asked me to come lay our proposition before you. Will you sit down, please?”
    â€œNow, gentlemen,” he said, “here is the situation. To make it quite clear, I must go back a few years. Seventy-odd, to be exact. At that time this was a prosperous plantation owned by Colonel Jefferson Bird Yancey. Then war broke out between the North and South. Colonel Yancey marched off at the head of his regiment. He was gone a year, two years. Nothing was heard from him. His slaves drifted away. Finally only the farm animals were left.
    â€œWell, they had all been fond of Colonel Yancey. They carried on as best they could. After a while they heard rumors that Colonel Yancey had been killed in battle. Later there were other rumors—that peace had been made; that the South had been defeated. Meanwhile most of the neighbors had moved away. Trees and brush grew up about the neglected plantation, whose very existence was forgotten.
    â€œBut the animals were pleased to be cut off from the world. They hated the Yankees who had brought ruin to their master and his friends. And at last, at a historic meeting which took place in this very barn, they formally swore undying allegiance to the Confederacy and agreed to defend this plantation, the last unconquered territory of the C. S. A., even from the armed forces of the Federal Government.
    â€œWell, gentlemen, the animals who made that compact are all dead. But their children’s children still hold to the very letter of it. I am proud to say that it was my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather who raised his venerated bill and led his comrades in the long Rebel yell which ratified the agreement. Ah, sirs, that was a truly great day for our beloved Southland.”
    He covered his eyes for a moment with one claw. Then he said: “Forgive me, gentlemen, if I am deeply moved. Though I have heard that tale a thousand times, my fiery Southern blood thrills anew at each rendition. Ah, of what chivalries, of what tendernesses, are we of the South not capable! But there; our knightliness is too well known to the world to need further advertisement from me. But let me say this: from that day to this no blue-coated Yankee soldier has ever set foot on this land.”
    â€œThey don’t wear blue any more,” said Freginald.
    â€œI was speaking metaphorically, suh,” said the rooster with dignity.

    â€œHe means he’s just sounding off,”