Freddy and the Popinjay by Walter R. Brooks

Author:Walter R. Brooks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Overlook Press

Chapter 12

The wildcat was very handsome. He had a thick tawny coat, elegant whiskers, and little ornamental tufts on his ears, but he had fierce yellow eyes, and his mouth was set in a ferocious grin.

There had been perhaps sixty rabbits in the audience, but in ten seconds not one was visible. The other animals bunched together and backed away, and Freddy and Jinx backed with them. The pig could feel his tail coming uncurled as it always did when he was nervous. But the three cows lowered their horns and advanced upon the intruder.

“What do you want here?” Mrs. Wiggins asked, and her voice was a menacing rumble. Cows lead very placid lives and seldom use that tone, but they can if they have to.

“Take it easy, sister,” said the wildcat, and he sat down and twirled his moustache with a big paw. “No harm intended. Can anybody tell me where I can find a bear named Peter in these parts?”

“He has a den up above here in the woods,” said Mrs. Wurzburger, “but he’s up in Herkimer County visiting relatives this summer.”

“So? That’s a pity,” said the wildcat. “Well, I guess I had my trip for nothing.”

“What did you want to see him about?” Mrs. Wiggins asked.

“Oh, just a personal matter. I know his folks up north.” The wildcat didn’t seem very communicative, and now he changed the subject. “Nice place you’ve got here. What’s going on?”

Mrs. Wiggins explained.

“Well, well,” he said, “since my old friend Peter isn’t home I’m rather at a loose end today. Guess I’ll enter your tournament. Nothing I like as much as a good fight.” And he unsheathed his long claws and made a lightning-like swipe at a daisy.

“This isn’t a fight,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “And I think you’d better go along about your business. We know all about wildcats, though there aren’t any around here, thank goodness. You may be all right, but until we know more about you—”

“Now, look, sister,” interrupted the wildcat, “I’m not looking for trouble, and don’t you try to wish it on me. I’ve got nothing to do this afternoon and I’d like to join your game. I’ll play it any way you say, and if anybody breaks the rules, it won’t be me.”

They knew that if they refused to let him play he would be angry, and wildcats have bad tempers. You have to be pretty careful with them. But they can be pleasant enough when they want to be; and evidently this one was laying himself out to be pleasant. It seemed to the animals that it would be all right to let him play, if they were careful not to offend him. So Mrs. Wiggins asked him his name.

“Eh?” he said. “Oh, just call me Mac.” So she introduced him to the others, and the tournament started.

Jinx counted out, and the first pair chosen were Jimmy Witherspoon and Weedly. Mounted on their warhorses—Mrs. Wogus and Hank—they cantered to their places on either side of the shallow end of the pond.

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