Freddy Goes to the North Pole (8 page)

But after supper she said: “Pete, we got to get them children back.”

Pete had his grammar open and was reading the “Rules Governing the Use of the Subjunctive.” He held the book in one hand while the fingers of the other felt round the inside of the bowl to pick out the last crumbs of corn flakes. “Those,” he said absently, and went on reading.

Kate pulled the book away from him. “Listen to me,” she said. “We got to follow them children. Tomorrow'll be too late.”

“We can't follow them tonight,” said Pete. “We can't see the trail.”

“We don't need to see it,” she replied. “What's this dog for, I'd like to know? Let him smell one of Everett's shoes; he'll follow 'em all right.”

“H'm, that's an idea,” said Pete. “They can't have got far. And maybe we can find the cow, too.”

“We've got to find all of 'em,” said Kate. “With the children to do the work, and the cow to give milk and cream and butter, we'll be settin' pretty. But we'll set mighty uncomfortable if we don't find 'em.”

“Sit,” said Pete. But the idea of having a little milk on his corn flakes occasionally was pleasant, so he got up and lit a lantern while Kate went after one of Everett's shoes.

As soon as Jack had smelt the shoe, he started off, nose to ground, like a bloodhound. Kate and Pete were delighted. They wouldn't have been so happy if they had known that they were being led in exactly the opposite direction from the one the children had taken. Jack had intended to make the chase as difficult as possible for them—to lead them through swamps and briers and up steep hills; but he was kind-hearted, like most dogs, and after they had fed him and treated him so well, he couldn't bear to be meaner than he had to. So after they had followed him steadily for two hours, he decided to put an end to the game and get back to his friends.

They were going along the side of a hill when he noticed by the light of Pete's lantern a heap of big boulders and under them a hole that might have been the mouth of a cave. He gave a sharp yelp, as if the scent was getting very hot, and dashed off towards the opening; then he stopped a yard or two short of it, barking short eager barks, as if he knew the children were inside.

But to his surprise and disappointment neither Pete nor Kate showed any desire to go into the cave. He had hoped that they would, and then he could run away and rejoin his friends. There was a queer smell about the cave, too, now that he was close to it—a strong smell that he had never smelt before. He went a little nearer to investigate, and then gave a sharp yelp of surprise, for out of the hole came lumbering a huge black shape with long white teeth in a snarling mouth and eyes that glowed red in the lantern-light.

Right there Jack decided that he had done enough for one evening, and he turned round and started home. His first jump took him three yards past his companions, who were both trying to climb the same tree, and his second jump took him over the branches of a fallen hemlock, and his third jump scared into fits an old grandfather rabbit who had come out to forage for a late supper, and who reached home trembling and shaking an hour later and took to his bed for three weeks. By his fourth jump Jack had got into his stride, and he raced on over fallen trees and through bushes and briers and along deer paths, as fast as he could go, for by the thumping and swishing and crackling behind him he knew that that terrible animal was close on his heels.

Pretty soon he heard a hoarse voice behind him: “Hey, wait a minute.”

Pretty soon he heard a hoarse voice behind him, “
Hey, wait a minute
”

“Yes, I will!” the dog jeered over his shoulder, without slackening his pace.

“Wait a minute,” repeated the other animal. “I want to talk to you.”

“Well, go on,” barked Jack. “I'm listening.”

“Don't be funny,” replied the other crossly. “How can I talk this way?”

“You seem to be doing pretty well,” said Jack.

“Oh, you make me tired!” returned the pursuer.

“Just what I'm trying to do,” snapped Jack. Then he laughed. “That was a pretty good one, eh what?” he inquired.

“Oh, you're a wit all right,” grunted the other. “But what's the sense of all this running? I'm not chasing you. I'm running away too.”

“Running away from an empty cupboard,” said Jack. “I know. You aren't chasing me. You're taking your supper out for a little exercise.”

“Nonsense,” grumbled the pursuer.” Bears don't eat dogs.”

“Hey!” barked Jack in surprise. “Are you a bear?” But still he didn't slow up.

“Sure I am,” came the reply. “But I can't talk like this. Stop and sit down a minute.”

“You stop first,” said Jack, leaping over a little stream.

“Yes, and you'll go on running,” objected the bear as he splashed through the shallow water.

“No, I won't. I'll take two more jumps after you stop, and then I'll stop. And then we can talk if you want to so bad.”

So they worked it that way.

“Now,” said the bear, when they had got their breath back and were sitting facing each other some distance apart in the dark woods, “what I wanted to say to you was this: I don't suppose you're any friend to that man and woman you came to my cave with or you'd have stayed with them when I came out. Is that so?”

“They're no friends of mine,” said Jack.

“Good. They're no friends of mine either. They've been hunting me with a gun ever since I came into these parts, three years ago. It's got so I can hardly stick my nose outside my cave nowadays without hearing that gun go bang and feeling a bullet whiz through my fur. Up to now I've been safe in the cave, but now they know where it is, I shan't be able to live there any longer. And being as you're the one that brought 'em there—”

“Gosh, I'm sorry,” said Jack. “I didn't know—”

“I know you didn't,” said the bear. “But you brought 'em, anyway. I don't bear any grudge, but it seems to me you have a certain responsibility, and for that reason maybe you'd be willing to help me.”

“Sure,” said Jack heartily, “anything I can do.”

“Well, then,” said the bear, “I'm a peaceable animal. What I want is a nice quiet home and three square meals a day—nothing fancy, you understand, just a comfortable den and good plain food. But the woods are no place for bears nowadays—haven't been since my grandfather was a cub. There's too much talk in the cities nowadays about back to nature. I don't object to men going back to nature, but I don't see why they have to take a gun with them. This time of year there are more hunters in the woods than there are animals. What I want is peace and quiet. And I thought maybe you could help me find it.”

“Why, so I can,” said Jack—“or could if I weren't going in the opposite direction. There's just the place on the farm where I live—a big wood lot that nobody ever goes into, and I'm sure Mr. Bean would let you live there. Only you see …” And he explained about the rescue party.

The bear was greatly interested. “I'd like to meet your friends,” he said. “They sound like a fine lot of animals.”

“Oh, they're all right,” said Jack. “They're a good lot of fellows. I'd like to have you meet them if you want to come along with me.”

“Sure,” said the bear. “Sure, I'd like to. And maybe—well, I've been thinking that maybe I could go along with you on this trip. I'm strong, and I don't mind the cold, and my knowledge of the woods might be of use to you. At least I'd be more of a help than a hindrance. What do you think?”

“Why, it's all right with me,” said Jack. “Of course Ferdinand's the leader; he'd have to decide. If you went, you could come back home with us, too.”

“That's what I was thinking,” said the bear. “And, to tell you the truth, if I don't go with you, I don't know what I will do.”

“Well, come along then,” said the dog. “We've got some distance to go. Ha ha!” He laughed in two or three short little barks. “To think I thought you were chasing me, and all the time you were just running away too! But you certainly gave me a scare.”

“I'm sorry for that,” said the bear. “But I'll try to make it up to you some time.”

CHAPTER VII

A LECTURE TOUR IN THE NORTH WOODS

Even Ferdinand was pleased at the addition of the bear to their party, and indeed he was very useful, for he knew all the edible berries and roots that the woods animals live on, and that they, as farm-bred animals, had never learned anything about. He was very nervous for a day or two, until he was sure that Kate and Pete were not pursuing them, but then he brightened up and made himself quite agreeable.

Ella and Everett were very happy. They had got so accustomed to being spanked at least three times a day that they thought it was a regular part of living, like getting up and going to bed, and at first they missed it. So for the first few days they spanked each other every morning before breakfast. But there were so many other things to do and to see that pretty soon they forgot all about it. They rode on Mrs. Wiggins's back and on Uncle William's back and on the bear's back, and they raced through the woods with Jack after imaginary rabbits and tigers and played tag with Charles and Henrietta. All the animals grew very fond of them; even Ferdinand, who liked himself so well that he couldn't like anybody else very much, occasionally flew down and perched on their shoulders, although he said he only did it to get his feet warm.

Poor Cecil was the only one who couldn't play with them. He wanted to awfully, but he was too prickly. It made him very sad, and he used to cry sometimes at night thinking about it. But he was a sensible porcupine and very soon decided that it was silly to cry about something he couldn't help; and then, as usually happens, he found that he could have a perfectly good time with them even though he did have to be careful not to let them touch him.

As they went on north, the winter came down to meet them. It grew colder and colder. Finally one morning Charles stuck his head out from under the feather bed where he had been sleeping all snug and warm, in order to crow and wake the others up. He kept his eyes shut, for he was very sleepy, but when he opened his beak to crow, no sound came out and his mouth was full of something soft and cold. That woke him wide awake at once, and his eyes flew open. And then he really was scared for a minute, for there was only a greyish whiteness everywhere; he could see nothing, not 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.

“My gracious!” said Mrs. Wiggins. “This is winter with a vengeance!”