The Amazing Adventures of Freddie Whitemouse by Elizabeth Jane Howard Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Jane Howard
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come back and report to you?’
There was silence while the toad dealt with a passing fly. His tongue shot out and the fly seemed to stick to it, and then, quick as lightning, both vanished and all Freddie could see was the
light ripples of the skin on the underside of his chin.
‘Where were we? Oh yes. Well, I’m afraid I’m not doing all that sorcery simply for a couple of days. A week is the least I’m prepared to offer. And even then, you will
have to put up with retaining some of your murine characteristics.’ Seeing that Freddie looked baffled, he added, ‘Murine means mouselike; it is also your language. You speak Murine,
and if I wasn’t a sorcerer, I wouldn’t understand a word you said. So, what is it to be? A tiger for a week, or a mere mouse for a lifetime?’
So Freddie chose (and I’m sure you would agree with him) to be a tiger for a week.
Chapter Two
F reddie must have been asleep, because the moment he opened an eye (the other one was squashed against something) he saw the most enormous
paw just an inch or so away. It had huge, black, extremely sharp-looking claws at the end of it.
The end of me
, he thought in panic. Freddie was used – as most mice are – to
being frightened, but this time there had been no warning – just an awful shock – like waking up to what you thought was a bad dream and it not being one. He could not move from
fright.
But then the paw moved – stretched out past his head revealing a long furry limb . . . striped fur . . . He lifted his head and beyond the limb saw the body of a fully grown tiger who was
now engaged in a slow, luxuriant stretch, which he found was most extraordinarily enjoyable.
It’s me! I really am a tiger! Just what I wanted
.
He found he was lying on a ledge of a cliff that overlooked a small river and a few yards downstream he could see there was a pool with some animals drinking from it. He was surrounded by tall
dry grass and the sun was very hot on his fur. Watching the creatures drinking made him feel thirsty and he decided to join them. There were large black birds, a number of greyish pigs with tusks .
. . Best of all there was a herd of small deer; nervous drinkers – they would take a sip and then look up anxiously as though afraid of something. The sight of them brought a sudden rush of
juices to his mouth. He had jumped off the ledge and now began to prowl through the long grass. Every time the deer stopped drinking, he crouched, motionless, until, reassured, they lowered their
delicate noses to the water. A few more steps and he would be able to pounce . . .
But, oh dear! Just as he was about to make a grab for the deer he had picked out as being the nearest, a gang of monkeys burst out of the jungle, swinging down from the trees, rushing over the
ground, whooping, chattering, even yelping. They saw Freddie at once and uttered such piercing shrieks of warning that all the deer immediately fled from the pool, along with the birds and the
pigs. The monkeys crossed the river, leaping from rock to rock, and settled on the far side. Their cries subsided into a taunting gabble as they attacked some bushes that held small yellow fruits,
spitting out the stones and watching him. Fruit was no good to him, he thought angrily, as he realised how very hungry he was.
Well, at least he could have a drink. He must have woken up very early in the morning, as it was now getting steadily hotter; the sky was bleached to a thick white – everything was
breathlessly still except for the ticking and humming of tiny insects; the monkeys, having stripped the bushes, had gone as suddenly as they had arrived. Freddie’s fur itched intolerably and
all he wanted was to lie in the water, where it would be so much cooler than anywhere else. He waded cautiously in (as a mouse he had been afraid of water ever since he fell into a coffee cup that
had been left outside No. 16, Skirting Board West; it had been full of thick black liquid and
There was silence while the toad dealt with a passing fly. His tongue shot out and the fly seemed to stick to it, and then, quick as lightning, both vanished and all Freddie could see was the
light ripples of the skin on the underside of his chin.
‘Where were we? Oh yes. Well, I’m afraid I’m not doing all that sorcery simply for a couple of days. A week is the least I’m prepared to offer. And even then, you will
have to put up with retaining some of your murine characteristics.’ Seeing that Freddie looked baffled, he added, ‘Murine means mouselike; it is also your language. You speak Murine,
and if I wasn’t a sorcerer, I wouldn’t understand a word you said. So, what is it to be? A tiger for a week, or a mere mouse for a lifetime?’
So Freddie chose (and I’m sure you would agree with him) to be a tiger for a week.
Chapter Two
F reddie must have been asleep, because the moment he opened an eye (the other one was squashed against something) he saw the most enormous
paw just an inch or so away. It had huge, black, extremely sharp-looking claws at the end of it.
The end of me
, he thought in panic. Freddie was used – as most mice are – to
being frightened, but this time there had been no warning – just an awful shock – like waking up to what you thought was a bad dream and it not being one. He could not move from
fright.
But then the paw moved – stretched out past his head revealing a long furry limb . . . striped fur . . . He lifted his head and beyond the limb saw the body of a fully grown tiger who was
now engaged in a slow, luxuriant stretch, which he found was most extraordinarily enjoyable.
It’s me! I really am a tiger! Just what I wanted
.
He found he was lying on a ledge of a cliff that overlooked a small river and a few yards downstream he could see there was a pool with some animals drinking from it. He was surrounded by tall
dry grass and the sun was very hot on his fur. Watching the creatures drinking made him feel thirsty and he decided to join them. There were large black birds, a number of greyish pigs with tusks .
. . Best of all there was a herd of small deer; nervous drinkers – they would take a sip and then look up anxiously as though afraid of something. The sight of them brought a sudden rush of
juices to his mouth. He had jumped off the ledge and now began to prowl through the long grass. Every time the deer stopped drinking, he crouched, motionless, until, reassured, they lowered their
delicate noses to the water. A few more steps and he would be able to pounce . . .
But, oh dear! Just as he was about to make a grab for the deer he had picked out as being the nearest, a gang of monkeys burst out of the jungle, swinging down from the trees, rushing over the
ground, whooping, chattering, even yelping. They saw Freddie at once and uttered such piercing shrieks of warning that all the deer immediately fled from the pool, along with the birds and the
pigs. The monkeys crossed the river, leaping from rock to rock, and settled on the far side. Their cries subsided into a taunting gabble as they attacked some bushes that held small yellow fruits,
spitting out the stones and watching him. Fruit was no good to him, he thought angrily, as he realised how very hungry he was.
Well, at least he could have a drink. He must have woken up very early in the morning, as it was now getting steadily hotter; the sky was bleached to a thick white – everything was
breathlessly still except for the ticking and humming of tiny insects; the monkeys, having stripped the bushes, had gone as suddenly as they had arrived. Freddie’s fur itched intolerably and
all he wanted was to lie in the water, where it would be so much cooler than anywhere else. He waded cautiously in (as a mouse he had been afraid of water ever since he fell into a coffee cup that
had been left outside No. 16, Skirting Board West; it had been full of thick black liquid and
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