Freddy the Cowboy Read Online Free Page B

easy and relaxed when the horse changed from a walk to a trot and from a trot to a canter, and Cy assured him that he had the makings of a fine horseman. Of course most of his friends were away on their search for adventure, and he was glad of that, for when they all came back in a week he would have something to surprise them with. To make the surprise a good one, he went down to the Busy Bee in Centerboro and bought a complete western outfit, as well as a saddle to take the place of the one lent by Mr. Flint.
    It was when he was changing the things from the pockets of his coat to those of the handsome new red shirt that he came on the letter from the Horrible Ten. He had forgotten all about it in the excitement of buying a horse, but now the ten days they had given him was half gone. He looked at the knives drawn at the bottom of the page and shivered. If he could only write to these people and explain to them that there was some mistake, that he hadn’t stolen any jewels, but he had no idea who or where they were.
    So that afternoon after he had taken the saddle back to Mr. Flint he rode home through the woods and stopped by the big tree in which Old Whibley, the owl, lived, and rapped on the trunk. Quik, who had become very friendly with Cy, and enjoyed riding almost as much as Freddy did, had gone along, and now when there was no answer, Freddy asked him to run up and see if maybe the owl was asleep and hadn’t heard his knock. So the mouse ran up the tree trunk and disappeared.
    Almost at once there was a great scrabbling and squeaking up in the tree. Freddy could hear Quik’s voice. “Oh, please! Please let me go! Freddy sent me up to see if you were here. I’m Quik, one of Mrs. Bean’s mice. She’ll be awful mad if you don’t let me go.”
    There was a deep hooting laugh from the owl. “A house mouse, hey? Way out here in the woods? A likely story!”
    â€œBut I am, I tell you!” Quik squeaked. “I belong to Mrs. Bean.”
    â€œI know Mrs. Bean,” said Whibley. “Most estimable woman. Any mouse of hers would have good manners. Wouldn’t come sneaking into my home when he thought I was out.”
    â€œHey, Whibley!” Freddy called. “That’s right; he’s our mouse. I sent him up to see if you were home.”
    There was silence for a minute, then the big owl, carrying the struggling Quik in his beak, floated down soundlessly and perched on a limb above Freddy’s head. “Well, you found out,” he said crossly. “Take him and go home.” And he dropped the mouse on the brim of Freddy’s new ten-gallon hat.
    â€œYou big bully!” Quik squeaked, and shook his clenched paws at the owl, then darted down and into Freddy’s pocket.
    â€œWait a minute, Whibley,” said the pig. “I’m in trouble; I’ve come to ask your advice. Don’t you know me?” And he took the hat off and looked up.
    â€œCertainly I know you!” said Old Whibley. “Wish I didn’t. Each time I see you you look sillier than the last one. Well, I’ll give you the advice. Go home and take off those monkey clothes before some farmer catches you and ties you up in his cornfield to scare away the crows.”
    â€œOh, listen, will you?” Freddy pleaded, and pulled the paper out of his pocket. “Look, did you ever hear of the Horrible Ten?”
    â€œI suppose you’re one of ’em,” said the owl. “Well, you’ve proved it.” He gave a hoot of laughter.
    Freddy stared at him for a minute without saying anything. Then slowly he put his hat on, reined the horse around, and started back the way he had come.
    But he had only ridden a few yards when the owl drifted past him and lit on a branch ahead. “Come, come,” he said gruffly, “hurt your feelings, did I? Don’t be so touchy. It’s just your coming up here in a fireman’s shirt and a hat as big as a