Freddy and Simon the Dictator by Walter R. Brooks Page B

it? Who’s with me?”

    â€œ What we want is action !”
    There was a roar of applause, and a number of the more hot-headed animals crowded up towards the cat. But Mrs. Bean got to her feet; and immediately the uproar subsided.
    â€œAnimals and friends,” she said, “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this wonderful demonstration of loyalty. But I ask you to consider this: If you attempt to strike now, without organizing, without planning carefully, you may very well bring down on our heads just the fate that you are trying to escape. Before you do anything, get Mr. Bean’s advice. I’m sure he’ll be back home in a day or two, and then you can talk to him.”
    â€œHe’ll be home tomorrow,” said Freddy emphatically.
    â€œI hope you’re right,” Mrs. Bean said. “Goodness, I just baked him an apple pie, and it makes me want to cry every time I look at it and think of him sitting down in that old jail, gnawing at a dry crust—”
    â€œThe sheriff sets a good table, ma’am,” said Freddy. “He’s probably gnawing at roast turkey and plum pudding. But I’ll take that pie down to him if you say so.”
    â€œWhy, thank you, Freddy. That would be real nice. But what I was saying,” she went on: “Talk to Mr. Bean before you do anything. If more people would talk to Mr. Bean before they do things, there’d be less trouble in the world.”

CHAPTER
    7

    The following morning Freddy and Jinx took the apple pie down to Mr. Bean in the Centerboro jail. It was a fine day and the prisoners were all sitting out on the lawn under striped umbrellas, reading and talking and playing games. Mr. Bean was playing croquet with the sheriff, who promptly invited the two animals to stay to lunch.
    When they were away from the barnyard, Mr. Bean didn’t seem to mind so much hearing animals talk, and he discussed things very freely with Jinx and Freddy. “You tell Mrs. B. not to worry about me,” he said. “This is a real nice jail, and to tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking she might like it here herself. Maybe she’d like to commit a small crime of some kind, and come down for a week or two. Make a nice change for her. There’s lots to do, and good food and good company, and you animals can run the farm all right.” He fizzed with laughter behind his whiskers. Evidently he wasn’t much worried about the burglary charge.
    But he was very much disturbed about what they had to tell him concerning the revolt among the animals. “As you know, Freddy,” he said, “I ain’t one to interfere in animal affairs. I let you handle things in your own way. But in this, I guess we’ll have to work together. Fight together too, maybe. But we’ll talk about that later. There goes the dinner bell.”
    Jinx and Freddy had lunch at the sheriff’s table, along with Mr. Bean and a burglar named Bloody Mike. Mike had won his nickname not because he was a specially ferocious fighter, but because whatever he did, he was always bumping his head or cutting his finger or walking into the edge of an open door. When he went out to burgle a house, he invariably came back covered with scratches and bruises, and he said himself that he couldn’t pare an apple without cutting his finger half off. But he was very good company, and that was why he was invited to sit at the sheriff’s table.
    So they had a pleasant lunch, and for dessert they had the apple pie. Mike, whose table manners weren’t very good, even for a burglar, picked up his piece and started to bite the end off. And then he said: “Ouch!” in a loud voice, and dropped the pie on his plate and put his hand up to his jaw.
    â€œIt would be me that bit on that rock,” he said.
    â€œA rock?” Mr. Bean exclaimed. “In one of Mrs. Bean’s pies? Well, she must have been upset! Gracious, Mike, I’m