Freddy the Cowboy by Walter R. Brooks Page B

Augustus was so excited—but nobody noticed.
    The dudes had applauded Mr. Flint, but now they shouted and cheered and crowded around Freddy.
    â€œShucks,” said Freddy, “’twasn’t anything. I just want to show this Mr. Flint why it ain’t healthy for him to talk about fighting me. And also and furthermore, I want to help him to keep out of the way of temptation.” He rode up closer to Mr. Flint. “Temptation is a terrible bad thing to get into, Mr. Flint,” he said. “Like it might be the temptation to rob a bank. You think how nice it would be to have all that money without working for it—just pulling up a trap door and climbing down and scooping it up. But suppose a bullet—like it might be from this gun of mine—comes climbing down after you, hey? Comes right down and pokes its cold nose into your ribs! Hey? You better think it over carefully, Mr. Flint.”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Mr. Flint sullenly.
    â€œGood,” said Freddy. “Then there’s no harm done. So good evening, folks. Just hand me my guitar, Jasper.” He waved his hand and then rode off, stopping opposite the last post of the corral fence where he pretended to tune his guitar while the mice climbed up Cy’s foreleg and into his pockets. Then he went on, singing:
    â€œYippy-i-dee! Yippy-i-day!
    Cowboy Bean is coming this way.
    He’s sharp as a needle and bright as a dollar,
    Wears a No. 3 shoe and a 16 collar.
    He’s full of vim and he’s full of vigor,
    Fast on the draw and quick on the trigger.
    So all you bandits and thieves take warning,
    Or you’ll be in a hospital bed by morning,
    And the doc’ll give you kind of a shake,
    And he’ll hear the rattle that the bullets make,
    And he’ll shake his head and he’ll say: ‘O my!
    I can’t cure this and I ain’t going to try, Yippy-i-day! Yippy-i-dy!
    For Two-Gun Freddy has plugged this guy.’”

    Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang!

    The other animals were well pleased that Freddy had managed to scare off Mr. Flint. The pig had proved himself such a superb marksman that the ranch owner would hardly dare to try holding up the bank, even with the help of Jasper and Slim. However, Freddy was taking no chances, and the next day when he and his friends were sitting around under the big tree by the back porch, thinking about what they could do to keep an eye on Mr. Flint, Hank said: “What you need is somebody to patrol around the bank nights. Those guards you’ve got down there, squirrels and like that, they don’t stay awake after sundown. Most nights you can hear ’em snorin’ half a mile down the road. Anybody could walk right in and go down in the vaults and they wouldn’t even turn over on the other side. So I was just wondering—I dunno—but how about getting my friend Sidney to keep an eye on things nights?”
    Sidney was a small brown bat who used to come in and flit around and talk to Hank nights when the rheumatism in his off hind leg kept him awake.
    â€œHe lives in my barn now,” Hank added.
    â€œIf you can call it living,” said Jinx contemptuously. “Hanging upside down with his eyes shut all day long. Lives on a diet of mosquitoes, so they tell me. And that isn’t living either.”
    â€œWell, I dunno,” said Hank. “I wouldn’t care to live on mosquitoes myself. Don’t seem as if there’s much nourishment in ’em. I guess usually it’s t’other way round—what mosquitoes there are here usually live on me. But Sidney keeps ’em cleared out. And why are you so mad because he likes to eat ’em, Jinx?”
    â€œI haven’t any use for bats,” Jinx said. “Why can’t they make up their minds to be either animals or birds—not just stay in between.”
    â€œThat isn’t why you don’t like them, though,” said