“Right,” said the pig. “And then we’ll form a company and incorporate.”
“Incorporate?” asked Robert. “What’s that?”
“Oh, I ran across it in reading,” said Freddy importantly. “It’s what all companies do. You draw up rules and by-laws and then you pay the government a fee, and then you’re incorporated. That means that whatever you do after that is legal.”
“Then we ought to do it,” said Robert. “Good-bye, you animals. See you later.”
CHAPTER II
BARNYARD TOURS, INC.
So that was how they started Barnyard Tours, Inc. The “Inc.” stands for “Incorporated.” Freddy was president, and Jinx was secretary, and Mrs. Wiggins was treasurer. Mrs. Wiggins was the cow who lived in the shed with Mrs. Wurzburger and Mrs. Wogus, her two sisters, and Mrs. Wogus’s little girl, Marietta. Mrs. Wogus called Marietta her little girl, but of course she was a calf. Mrs. Wiggins was chosen treasurer because the cow-shed made such a good treasury for the various things that the tourist animals paid the company. They brought all sorts of things, but mostly things to eat, because these were what the company wanted most. This was a very good arrangement for Mr. Bean, because by and by he didn’t have to feed the animals on the farm at all, and yet they were getting fat on the delicacies the tourists brought to them.
The tours started in a very small way, of course. The first one was for mice. Mrs. Wiggins took thirty mice on her back and went down the river road for a mile or two and then crossed the canal and came back the other way, stopping at the cheese-factory for lunch. The mice sat two by two, as you do in a sightseeing bus, and Eeny stood up in front, between Mrs. Wiggins’s horns, and told them about the various points of interest they were passing, and pointed out bits of especially beautiful scenery and gave the names of the mice that lived in some of the finer residences. He was rather nervous at first, because he had never done any public speaking before, but after a while he began to enjoy it and grew quite poetic in the descriptive bits. Only he had to be careful not to make any jokes, because when he did, Mrs. Wiggins laughed heartily, and when she laughed, she shook so that the mice bounced about on her back, and once six of them fell off.
The mice were very much pleased with their trip and told all their friends, and gradually more and more animals came to the farm to inquire about tours. So many came finally that Mr. Bean was quite put out about it; he said he was sick and tired of seeing the barnyard crowded with strange animals, and he couldn’t step foot outside the door without tripping over woodchucks and squirrels and rats or being bumped into by cows and horses. One night six skunks came, a father and mother and four children. One of the children wasn’t very well, and they wanted to inquire about a place in the mountains to spend the summer where the water would be good and where the air would be bracing. The little skunks weren’t very well brought up, and while the father and mother were in the barn talking to Jinx, they got to fighting, and they made so much noise that they waked up Mrs. Bean. She looked out the window and saw them, and of course she didn’t know they had come on business, so she threw a pitcher of water on them. The mother skunk was quite mad, because she said the children might have caught their deaths of cold, being all wet through like that. Fortunately none of them took cold. But after that Robert said he thought they ought to open a regular office somewhere away from the house and near the road, where one animal could always be on hand to answer questions and give out information. Then they wouldn’t bother Mr. and Mrs. Bean.
So they opened an office in an old shed that stood down in the corner of one of the fields quite a long way from the house. Most of the time Charles, the rooster, stayed in the office, because he was a very good talker, and he liked to tell other birds and animals things they didn’t know. He was a good salesman. That means that he could often persuade animals to take trips that they really didn’t care about taking at all. One time he talked so enthusiastically about the beautiful view you could get from the ten-acre lot, which was behind the house, on the hill, that he persuaded three horses from over near Centerboro to come up and plough it, just so they could see the view when they turned round at the end of each furrow. Mr. Bean was very much pleased when he found the field all ploughed.
After a number of short one-day trips had been carried out successfully, they began to get up longer ones. Jinx took a mixed party of cats and rabbits and cows on a ten-day tour of the Adirondacks. He looked up all the routes beforehand on a map that was in Freddy’s library. They had a fine time—climbed mountains and went swimming and were royally entertained by the woods animals they met.
Special trips were arranged too for each kind of animal. The smaller animals particularly, who never dared venture alone very far from home, were very glad to see something of the world under the protection of such a brave and loyal dog as Robert, or such a reckless swashbuckler as Jinx. Freddy even got up a trip for spiders from the barn and the house and they all worked together in the morning and built a big web and then spent a glorious afternoon catching flies, and came home, very tired but very happy, early in the evening. In return they wove a big mosquito-net for Freddy to sleep under in the pig-pen. Of course it wasn’t very strong and tore quite easily, but they agreed to keep it in repair for a year.
The hardest animals to get up trips for were cows. Cows aren’t much interested in what is going on in the world. “It’s hot and dusty out on the road,” they said, “and dogs chase us, and automobiles make us hurry in a very undignified way. We’d rather stand round in the shade and swish our tails and think.”
“But if you take a trip and see strange sights, you’ll have more interesting things to think about,” Freddy objected. Of course he knew as well as you do that it is almost impossible to catch a cow thinking. They have very good brains and they can think when they want to, but usually it’s just too much trouble. They said that simply because they felt they ought to have some excuse for not ever doing anything. But Freddy went round and made a lot of inquiries and finally found several places that would interest cows. One place was a meadow on an abandoned farm that had very thick sweet grass, and another had historic interest for cows because over a hundred years ago a very famous cow had fought and killed a bear there, and another was a specially good place for them to stand in and switch their tails and think. But it took so much talking to persuade any cows to take the trip that although several parties were got up, Freddy decided it didn’t pay. “The overhead is too high,” Freddy said.
One day Freddy and Jinx were sitting inside the shed. It was a very hot day and they had talked for a while, and then Jinx had curled up and gone to sleep, and Freddy had started to look at a map of the arctic regions that a dog whose master kept a magazine stand had brought in and exchanged for a personally conducted tour through Scenic Centerboro. This was a very popular trip with dogs and cats, and would have been with other animals too, but the company didn’t like to have its animal sightseers become too conspicuous. And so, of course, they couldn’t go into towns and cities much. If people saw a party of dogs admiring the Centerboro Public Library—which was really very beautiful, built in the Gothic style—they wouldn’t pay much attention to them. But if a party of rabbits or squirrels did the same thing, children would throw stones, and people would try to catch them, or at least would stare and make remarks, and it would be very unpleasant. And that would be bad for the company, because other animals would hear about it and wouldn’t want to go on the tours.
While Freddy was poring sleepily over the map inside the shed, Charles, the rooster, was sitting on the fence outside, watching for customers. Charles liked the sound of his own voice pretty well, and when there wasn’t anybody round to listen, he sometimes talked to himself. “Dear me,” he was saying, “it is hot. Yes indeed, very hot. I do hope we’ll get a shower to lay the dust.” He kept saying this over and over. He was very economical and never wasted his best conversation on himself. Sometimes of course he said quite a good thing by mistake, but then he would save it up until someone came along and repeat it as if he had just thought of