Freddy Goes to the North Pole (12 page)

“My goodness!” said Mrs. Wiggins. “I didn't know fighting was so much fun! Strenuous, of course. But I don't know when I've enjoyed myself so much.”

“It's fun when you win,” said Uncle William. “But what do we do now? We can't follow up our victory, because the cave mouth is too small for us larger animals to get into.”

At that moment the muzzle of the wolf leader appeared in the doorway. One eye was half closed as a result of Henrietta's attentions, but he could still grin.

“Well,” he said, “now you've had your fun, I suppose you know who'll pay for it?”

“If you dare so much as touch a feather of my husband's head—” Henrietta began.

“Oh, we'll give you the feathers,” said the wolf. “No use for them. But I trust it won't come to that. Our offer still holds. Give us the children, and you can have your friends.”

“I suppose you realize,” said Ferdinand, “that we can stay here and starve you out?”

“Oh sure,” admitted the wolf. “But you know we shan't starve until we've eaten you know whom.” And he winked villainously. “Well,” he added, “think it over. I'll be back for your answer in a little while.” And he vanished.

Meanwhile inside the cave the two prisoners had been left undisturbed, although two guards were kept stationed just outside the door of their room. Jack lay down by the door, and Charles, who was getting hungry, wandered up and down, scratching now and then at the dirt floor in the hope of finding something to eat. Presently he uncovered half a dozen small black objects and, looking at them closely, discovered that they were large ants, which, after the manner of ants, were enjoying their winter's sleep. “H'm,” said the rooster, “never liked ants much. Too spicy for my taste. But beggars can't be choosers.” And with half a dozen quick pecks he swallowed the unsuspecting insects and then began scratching for more.

He had uncovered quite a colony of them and was making a meal of them when an idea struck him. He stopped eating and, catching hold of one of the ants by a leg, shook him roughly. “Hey,” he shouted, “wake up!”

The ant stretched, yawned, then sat up and began washing his face with his forelegs.

“What's the idea?” he said crossly. “Can't you let a fellow sleep?”

“I beg your pardon,” said Charles politely. “But it's a big piece of luck finding you here—”

“Luck for you or luck for me?” inquired the ant sarcastically.

“Both of us, I hope,” said the rooster. “See here; how many of you ants are there in this ant-hill that I seem to have stumbled on?”

“Oh, about four thousand, last census,” said the ant. “Four thousand soldiers, that is. We're the permanent garrison. I suppose there'd be as many more workers, but I don't know about that.—Say, is that all you waked me up for—to ask silly questions? What are you, a newspaper reporter or something?”

“No, no,” said Charles. “The fact is, I've got a little military job I want done, and I'd like to hire about four thousand soldiers to do it. Of course I realize it means waking you all up in the winter when you want to sleep, but it isn't much of a job, really; won't take over an hour; and I'll pay well.”

“Well, you've come to the right ant,” said the other. “I'm captain of the Queen's Guard. But what's your idea of pay?”

“Honey,” said Charles. “I've got about twenty pounds of honey that some bears brought in to pay for their seats at one of my lectures. I'm doing a lecture tour of the North, you see.”

“No, I don't,” said the ant. “I can't abide lectures. And why anybody should pay good honey to hear 'em—however, that's your business. H'm. Honey, eh? The boys haven't had any honey in a long time. I guess they wouldn't mind waking up for that. Well, that's O.K. Twenty pounds divided by four thousand soldiers—how much is that per ant?”

“Oh, figure it out afterwards,” said Charles. “I'm in a hurry. My life's in danger; I haven't time to do arithmetic. How soon can you mobilize?”

“Have the whole army awake and in line in twenty minutes,” said the captain. He looked about him. “Hey, Ed!” he shouted. “Why, where's Ed? And old Three Legs? See him anywhere? He lost the other three in a skirmish with some slave-hunting ants last fall. They were both sleeping right beside me.”

Charles looked away and blushed slightly, for he was sure that both the captain's comrades were at that moment in his gizzard. But the ant didn't notice. “That's funny,” he said. “Well, can't bother now.” He seized a neighbouring sleeper by the feeler and shook him. “Hey! Get up, Johnny! To arms, the Queen's Guard! Wake up, boys; here's a job for you.” And he rushed about, kicking and punching and shaking his friends until half a dozen yawning, sleepy-eyed ants were grumbling and asking what was the matter.

“Run down to the citadel,” said the captain, “and wake up General Formicularis and tell him to rouse the garrison and bring 'em up right away, all four regiments. Tell him to send through the barracks and turn 'em all out. Tell him there's good rich booty in it for everyone. Honey! That'll bring him.”

The ants, old campaigners all, were by this time alert and wide awake, and they dashed down into the narrow passageways leading to the citadel. For a time there was no sound but a faint rustling underfoot, from where, deep down in the underground barracks and corridors and guard-rooms, the call to arms was being sounded.

Suddenly Charles cocked his ear towards the door. “Isn't that Henrietta's voice?” he asked.

“Sounds like her,” said Jack. “There's something going on outside. Perhaps they have come to rescue us.”

“I thought I heard her voice,” said Charles with what seemed to his friend a strange lack of enthusiasm. “She's angry at something.”

“Probably at the wolves,” said Jack.

“Yes, probably. But you know, Jack, I—I almost begin to like it here. It's quiet and peaceful and—”

“Nonsense!” said Jack. “You're afraid of Henrietta because she's angry. But she isn't angry at you. She wants to rescue you. Think how glad she'll be to see you—”

“She'll hide it pretty well,” said Charles mournfully. “Oh yes, I suppose she'll be glad. But she'll give me an awful raking over for getting in such a mess. I shan't hear the last of it for months.—Ah, here we are!” he exclaimed as the head of a long procession of ant soldiers emerged from a small hole at his feet.

The soldiers came up at the double, and in a few minutes the entire army, four thousand strong, was spread out over the floor of the room, each of the regiments divided into companies with its captain at its head, and the general, a stout, puffy ant, a little in front, surrounded by his staff. Charles gave them a military salute with his right claw and then delivered a short address, telling them what he wanted them to do and ending with a stirring appeal to their patriotism, to the well-known fighting reputation of the famous First Division, which they comprised, and a promise of much honey.

Orders were quickly given. The first regiment, deployed as skirmishers, marched out along the roof of the cave; the others followed in columns of four. For perhaps five minutes after they had gone, there was silence, then a most terrific howling broke out among the wolves. “Hurray!” shouted Charles. “The attack has begun!” And he and Jack in their delight fell into each other's arms.

Outside the cave their friends, who had been holding a conference and trying to decide upon some method of rescue, were suddenly amazed to see a dozen wolves dash out of the dark opening, howling and snapping at their flanks and pawing madly at their heads. The wolves took no notice of their late enemies, but dashed off in different directions and were soon lost to sight. And before the watchers could recover from their surprise, out of the cave came Charles and Jack.

The animals rushed towards them and surrounded them. “What is it?” they exclaimed. “What did you do to them? They're gone, every last wolf. How in the world did you ever manage it?”

Charles puffed out his chest grandly. “Manage it?” he said. “Pooh! Nothing to it; nothing to it at all! Have any of you ever been bitten by an ant?”

“I have,” said Bill. “I sat down in an anthill once by mistake, and my word! how those beasts can sting!”

“Well, that's all there was to it,” said Charles. “I hired an ant army to attack them. Promised them honey. Somebody better go get that honey, by the way. And so here we are again, safe and sound. Ha! Ask old General Charles if you want to get anything done! I guess I showed those wolves a thing or two! I guess they won't try any tricks on this rooster again!”

But Henrietta pushed herself through his ring of admirers and caught him by the ear with her beak. “That's enough!” she said furiously. “You think you can cause me all this grief and then get away with it, do you? You think you can just stand around and tell how smart you are, eh? Well, I want a word with you, my lad!” And under the amused glances of his friends, she led him round behind a bush, from which he presently emerged, much crest-fallen. Nothing further was heard of his cleverness. Indeed he did not dare open his beak again in Henrietta's hearing for two days.

CHAPTER X

THE DASH FOR THE POLE

Word of the brave fight that the travellers had put up had evidently gone round among the animals of the North, for they saw no more wolves after this, though they crossed the tracks of these animals every day. It grew colder and colder; the days were very short and the nights correspondingly long, so much of their travelling had to be done before sunrise and after sunset, by the wavering, drifting light of the aurora borealis. Soon they left the forest behind and travelled over endless snow plains, and the audiences of their lectures were composed mostly of reindeer. And at last they came to the polar sea.

“If I'm not mistaken,” said Ferdinand, “this is about where we went adrift on the iceberg. Of course the sea is frozen over now, and the whaling ship must be frozen in the ice somewhere to the north of us. But we don't want to find the ship. My guess is that the crew, and probably our friends with them, will have reached Santa Claus's house long before this. That's at the north pole—straight north from here. See, here's a map of how we'll go.” And he drew it in the snow. He made a mark and said: “That's where we are,” and then he made another mark and said: “That's the north pole,” and then he drew a straight line connecting them and said: “That's the route we take.”

“H'm,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “I don't see that that tells us much. I could have drawn that map myself.”

“You're smarter than I thought you were,” remarked Ferdinand, and Mrs. Wiggins didn't know whether to be angry or not. But the other animals all agreed that that was the only course to take, so they set out due north over the frozen sea.

And in two days they heard news of their friends. Just before dusk—which came at two in the afternoon—Ferdinand, who had gone for a short flight to stretch his wings, which were apt to get a little stiff with disuse when he rode on Bill's head and didn't use them all day, spied a black speck in the northern sky. It grew larger and larger, and presently he saw that it was a huge eagle. Ferdinand climbed to meet him, since he knew that only a very hungry eagle will condescend to eat a crow. And soon they were flying side by side.

“Hail, crow,” said the eagle. “Whither away so far from home?” Eagles always speak in very high-flown language and are very touchy of their dignity, because they are the national bird.

“Good evening, your honour,” said Ferdinand. “I'm with a party who have come to rescue a number of friends. They were captured by the crew of a whaling ship, and the last we heard of them, they were bound for the pole to visit Santa Claus. Have you seen anything of them?”

“These eyes beheld them only yesterday,” said the eagle over his shoulder, for he was flying much faster than Ferdinand, who had a hard time to keep up.

“Hey!” said the crow. “What's that? Would you slow up a little and circle around a bit? It's very important to me.”

The eagle shrugged his shoulders. “Is a crow's business as important as an eagle's?” he demanded. “And he the messenger of Santa Claus? I have no time for your petty affairs, crow. And yet—” He paused in his flight, banked, and soared in a wide circle. “Perchance at this juncture even the aid of the lowly crow is not to be despised. So listen and heed well, for I have little time to spare. Things have gone very ill with my master since the arrival of those seafaring men and their pets—”

“They're there, then?” interrupted Ferdinand.

“I bade you
listen,”
said the eagle sharply. “Did I not speak of their arrival? You are wasting with your idle words time that is far more precious than your own—more precious even than mine, for it is the time of my master, Santa Claus, and it lacks but a short space of time to Christmas.” He said considerably more about wasting time, but Ferdinand had sense enough not to point out that if time was being wasted, it was not he who was wasting it. And presently the eagle went on.