Freddy and Simon the Dictator by Walter R. Brooks

Indians, who had agreed to help—indeed, had refused to be left out.
    Right after lunch, Freddy and Bannister carried their canoe up and hid it in the bushes, then hid the paddles at some distance. This was good woods practice: anyone finding the canoe, if they really needed to use it, could cut a young spruce and make paddles from it; otherwise, they wouldn’t take the trouble. Then they packed up and, led by the Indians, started for the Indian village. Jacob and his family—there were about thirty of them—rode on Freddy’s coonskin hat. They yelled and laughed and sang songs all the way; it was pretty trying for Freddy, who never knew when some young smart aleck of a wasp might not slide down onto his nose and sting him, just out of sheer high spirits.
    They had supper at the village, and then all piled into two old cars and jounced west for several miles over a wood road that presently turned south, acquired a black top, and ran down past the west end of the lake. After half a mile, they saw on their left a beach of fine yellow sand. At the south end of the beach, they drove the cars off the road and hid them. Then they sat quietly and waited.
    Freddy did not plan to go up to the cave. It was too dangerous, for he was sure to be discovered. However, the Indians, who knew the cave, told him that it consisted of several rooms, from the largest of which a sort of natural chimney went up to an opening on the hillside above. Two of the best trackers volunteered to go up to that opening and listen to the meeting. They were sure they could hear nearly everything that was said.
    After they had left, the others settled down to wait. The light gradually drained out of the sky, and as it grew darker, they were aware of movement all about them in the forest—unusual movement: the clumsy thump and smash of iron-shod hoofs, the swish of branches pushed aside by some large animal, the click of horns striking low-lying limbs. Several beavers came swimming down the lake, got out on the sand beach, and crossed the road into the woods. Two bears sauntered up the road, and after them came a long tan shape—it was getting dark now under the western wall of woods —but Freddy was sure it was a panther.
    Gradually the sounds died away. Freddy was sure that by now the audience was all assembled in the cave. And then up the road came a car. It pulled off on to the beach and Mr. Garble got out with a loud-speaker box under his arm, and half a dozen rats hopped out after him, and followed him up into the woods.
    It was nearly two hours later when Jacob, who had gone to the meeting with the two Indians, came back. “Meeting’s breaking up,” he said. “Garble’ll be along any minute.”
    Freddy’s first plan had been to hide in the back seat of the Garble car, and to rise up, and fall upon Mr. Garble when they were a safe distance down the road. But if the rats climbed into the back seat, he would certainly be discovered. So he had one of the Indian cars drive a couple of hundred yards up the road, and the other car the same distance down the road; then they turned around. And when Mr. Garble came out of the woods, carrying the loudspeaker, and got into his car, and started to drive home, both cars turned on their headlights and came slowly towards him up the middle of the road. And when Garble, cut off both front and rear, stopped and tooted his horn impatiently, Freddy stepped up to the side of the car.
    â€œKindly step out of the car, Mr. Garble,” he said.
    But Mr. Garble didn’t. He whipped out a pistol and presented it at Freddy’s nose. “One side, pig,” he said. “And tell your friends to let me by.”
    â€œ One side, pig,” he said, “and tell your friends to let me by .”
    Simon sat up on the seat beside Mr. Garble, rubbing his forepaws together. “Well, upon my soul,” he said, “if it isn’t my silly old comrade, Freddy.