Freddy and the Flying Saucer Plans Read Online Free

in my station wagon at a moment’s notice, and I shall leave it and drive on quickly. They will try to follow me, but no spy has a car that can keep up with the station wagon, and by the time they can locate it with their planes I shall have passed the farm and struck down to the main road and gone through Syracuse.
    â€˜The wrong set of plans I shall carry with me. Eventually the agents of one nation or another will steal it from me. This will soon become known to all the other spies, and then they will leave me alone and try to capture the set from whoever has it.
    â€˜Surrounded as I am now by these gangs of secret agents, I am unable to start work on the motor. Indeed I am unable to get a moment alone. Even in bed I am constantly being kept awake by attempts to get into the room, by footsteps and the rattling of doorknobs and tapping at the windows. If there was only one gang at work it would have had me before this. It is only the large number of groups, all constantly spying on the others, that has prevented my being kidnapped.
    â€˜It will take whatever foreign government that gets the false plans from me several months to find out that they are false. By that time the motor should have been made and tested; perhaps the Air Force may have ordered some, in which case protection of the plans will be up to the government. In the meantime, guard this set well. The only other true set is in my head.
    â€˜Hoping this finds you as it leaves me, in good health, but nervous, I am
    Yours truly,
    UNCLE BEN ’”

CHAPTER
    3
    There was a long silence after the reading of Uncle Ben’s letter. Then Freddy gave a sigh. “Well, I guess our trip is off, Jinx. Cy, we might as well get that saddle off—”
    He stopped. There was a droning in the east, and three planes came over the horizon. They were some distance apart, but they headed toward the Bean farm. Flying just above treetop level, they circled and dipped above the farm buildings, then went on west.
    â€œLooking for Uncle Ben, do you think?” Cy asked.
    â€œI do indeed,” said the pig. “They’d know he had a workshop here; if they lost him they’d head for the farm.”
    Jinx, who had gone out into the road and was looking down toward Centerboro, said suddenly: “Listen!”
    A rushing sound, louder than the droning of the planes, which had died away, came up from the east, increased to sustained roar; and then the cars appeared—dozens of them. They seemed to be coming almost as fast as the planes; they were driving very dangerously, cutting out and in and trying to pass one another on the narrow road. The first one braked sharply and pulled off the road by the bank; most of the others—there must have been thirty of them—slowed down fifty yards farther on and turned in at the Bean gate. Freddy put his hat on and pulled it down over his eyes.
    Several cars drew up behind the first one. The occupants jumped out and crowded around Freddy. The driver of the first car, a huge man with heavy black eyebrows that were twisted up at the outer corners like a mustache, stood in front of the pig and smiled. It was a terrifying smile, although it was evidently intended to be pleasant.
    â€œHa, my little friend, you are the western cowboy, no? You ride the pony, you play the music. So? I too, when I am your age, I play the cow-punch, I shoot the six-gun—bang, bang, bang!”
    â€œSure,” said Freddy. “I like playing cowboy. It’s lots of fun.” He realized that the man thought he was a ten- or twelve-year-old boy playing Wild West. He was the right size for it, and nobody, seeing him with his hat over his eyes, could guess that he was a pig.
    â€œHa, is mooch fun, surely,” the man agreed. “Tell me, you are knowing Mr. Benjamin Bean? You maybe his littly boy?”
    Jinx put a paw over his mouth to smother a laugh. But Freddy said: “No, but I know him. He lives here