Freddy Rides Again by Walter R. Brooks Page B

rattlers in here?” Mr. Margarine demanded.
    â€œSo I’ve heard tell. If you’re skeered, better go back,” said Freddy contemptuously.
    Mr. Margarine hesitated, but Billy said: “We aren’t afraid. Go on.” And they went.
    A minute or two later they came out in an open space. The Grimby house was a black and ominous shadow on the far side of the clearing. “There’s his hideout,” said Freddy. “You and the boy watch this side. I’ll go to the back and drive him out.” He stepped towards the house, then jumped aside as a whirring rattle sounded almost under his feet.
    Freddy jumped aside as a whirring rattle sounded almost under his feet .
    â€œWhat was that?” said Mr. Margarine.
    Before Freddy could answer, another rattle came from behind them.
    â€œSeems to be some of the varmints around tonight,” said Freddy calmly. “Just move slow; likely they won’t bother us. If you do get bit—” He stopped as the same dry whirr came from several places in the coarse grass around them. Mr. Margarine gasped, and Freddy grinned under his rattail moustache. Those whirrs didn’t really sound like rattlesnakes, but it was probably the best the Horribles could do in the short time given them. They were shaking pebbles and hickory nuts in paper bags and a few little boxes that Freddy had noticed in the Grimby attic.
    â€œRattlesnake bites ain’t necessarily fatal,” Freddy went on. “You swell up and yell a powerful lot, but—” A high thin screech cut him short. “Huh, one of ’em caught a rabbit,” he said. “Well, shucks, in my time I’ve waded in rattlesnakes up to my hips, and—”
    â€œYou go ahead and wade in them,” said Mr. Margarine, as a dozen rattles sounded all around them. Come, Billy.” One rabbit—Freddy found out later it was No. 32 and gave him a bonus for it—managed to hiss. That finished the Margarines. They broke and ran. They stumbled and fell, and got up and ran on, bumping into trees, tangling themselves and tearing their clothes on blackberry bushes. Just before reaching the horses Mr. Margarine got into an argument with a patch of thorn brush. He got away finally, but left most of his riding breeches with his antagonist. And then they found their horses and went pounding back down towards home and safety.
    â€œO.K., Brother Horribles,” said Freddy. “My best thanks to you. Come in and go to bed now. I guess the Margarine boys won’t be hanging around this place much from now on.”

Chapter 11
    When Freddy had left the mice to go out and talk to Mr. Margarine, he had left the pig pen door open. These four mice were physically fine specimens of their race; they were much more athletic than most mice, who are content to run along baseboards and gobble up crumbs; they had even tried to organize a mouse basketball team, with a field mouse named Howard as the fifth, and baskets made of paper cups tacked up by Mr. Bean, but they couldn’t get any games. Mice on neighboring farms were just too lazy. But powerful as they were, no four mice are big enough to shove a door shut. They pulled and tugged and puffed and panted, but the door stayed open.
    They wanted to stay and keep an eye on things for Freddy, but with the door open, if the snake decided to come back before Freddy did—well, four mice are just a gulp and a swallow for a rattler. “We’d better beat it back to the house,” said Eek.
    They had got about halfway when there was a rustle in the grass ahead of them, and then suddenly a flat head with little beady eyes reared up on a long neck and swayed there in front of them, cutting them off from the barnyard.
    â€œWell, well !” whispered the rattlesnake mockingly. “How thoughtful of you to bring me my supper!”
    They huddled together, too scared to run. Their eyes followed the flat head as it swung from side