Freddy and Simon the Dictator by Walter R. Brooks

knowledge. Knowledge is something you know, and I do not know that he is innocent.”
    â€œWell, I do,” Freddy said. “For that matter, I don’t know that you’re innocent either, Uncle Solomon. Maybe you stole the things. You could get in a window and steal something and leave a handkerchief.”
    But if Freddy hoped to make the owl mad, he failed. “Dear me,” said Uncle Solomon, giving a cold little tittering laugh; “now you’re beginning to think. And if you’ll only think a little more along that line, you’ll think of a way to get Mr. Bean out of jail.”
    â€œGolly,” Freddy exclaimed after a minute. “I know what you mean. But I can’t climb up into any window. Look, if I get the handkerchief for you, will you do it?”
    Freddy expected that the owl would refuse, and probably laugh at him for suggesting such a dangerous mission. But for once, Uncle Solomon was serious. “You get the handkerchief,” he said. “I’ll do it tonight. I like your Mr. Bean,” he continued. “And though you probably don’t realize it, he’s in a very dangerous situation.”
    â€œThis handkerchief trick will get him out of it,” said Freddy.
    â€œOh, I don’t mean his being in jail. Matter of fact, he’s probably safer there than he would be back in his own home.”
    â€œGood gracious,” said Mr. Camphor, “you mean this revolt among the animals that Freddy has told me about? But it’s silly of them to think they can take over and run things. It’s—”
    â€œListen,” the owl interrupted. “I know more about this than you suspect. I’ve heard a great deal, and I’ve put two and two together, and I do not like the answer. These talks that someone is giving up at the Grimby house—they are only part of it. They are being given for the purpose of turning farm animals against the men who own the land they live on. So that on the day when the revolution begins, there won’t be much local resistance.
    â€œBut the leader of this revolution knows quite well that farm animals alone cannot seize the power. Up in the woods, across Otesaraga Lake, in the foothills of the Adirondacks, he is training an army—an army of wild animals who are no friends to humans. Animals that humans have hunted and trapped. And with them are a good many discontented farm animals. Mr. Witherspoon’s horse, Jerry, is one of them. You’ve probably heard that he’s been missing for a month. He got sick of not having enough to eat at Witherspoon’s and he joined the revolutionists. And some of your Bean farm rabbits are there too.
    â€œWhen the signal is given, they’ll come down and drive the farmers from their farms. They’re going to start right in this neighborhood around Centerboro. As soon as the farmers are driven off, they’ll turn over the management of the farm to those of the farm animals who have joined up with their organization, and they’ll go on to the next farm. They believe in a year, they’ll have the whole state under animal control.”
    â€œMy goodness,” said Mr. Camphor, “that would let me out of being governor, wouldn’t it?”
    â€œIt would also let you out of living on this nice estate,” said the owl. “Unless you get busy, a year from now, perhaps two months, there’ll be cows and horses and porcupines sitting in the comfortable chairs out there on your terrace, instead of politicians.”
    â€œMuch rather have them there, too,” Mr. Camphor muttered.
    â€œBut Uncle Solomon,” said Freddy, “do you really think they can get away with it? Do you believe that Mr. Bean’s animals will turn against him and drive him out of his home?”
    â€œYour Mr. Bean is a special case, I admit,” said the owl. “He’s been nicer to his animals, and more thoughtful for their