Jimmy,
The Glue Factory and Mad Mr Viscous,
chapter twelve
Chapter
Twelve
Horses!
The razor sharp edges of the bolt cutters cut deep into the cold steel of the padlock securing the gate. Thus broken, it fell useless to the ground. Pushing the gate open, Jimmy and Eric surreptitiously made their way down the walkway behind it.
Passing under a number of windows in the factory building, Jimmy warned, “Shush, we don’t want to be spotted, now.” In silence, the two boys edged further along the walkway. Whinnying; somewhere ahead they heard the sounds of horses whinnying.
“Eric,” said Jimmy, ecstatic that they had actually made it, “we’ve done it! We have found the horses! Look,” he said, pointing along the walkway, “I can see one of them!” And he was right, no more than twenty feet ahead of them, the unmistakable sight of a horse’s head, peering through a crack in the tall fence, beckoned them on. Breaking into a canter, they hurried towards the awaiting equine. Whinnying loudly, the excited animal greeted its would-be liberators.
“Ah, look at him,” Eric chirped, “He’s glad to see us.” The remaining horses although hidden from view, sensing something important was happening, also began whinnying excitedly.
Climbing the fence, looking down at the poor animals penned into the small yard, Jimmy was horrified at the conditions they were in. “There’s not even a drink of water in here,” he whispered, “let alone any food.” As if in response to his words, the horses began whinnying even more. “Shush, shush horses,” he said. “We’ll have you out from there in no time at all. That nasty Mr Viscous will not be making glue from any of you. Shush…”
Climbing down, Jimmy searched for a gate, an opening – anything they might use to free the poor animals, but they found none. “There isn’t a gate,” he whispered, “and it’s far too solid for us to break. It appears we have no other option other than using the gate.”
“The gate?” Eric asked, confused by his friend’s contradictory words. “You just said there wasn’t one!”
“Not here, there isn’t,” Jimmy replied matter-of-factly. Then pointing up, he said, “But over there, on the far side of that yard, there are two of them.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. The first one is located over to the left – see? That’s where the horses were brought in, when they were delivered.”
“A lorry,” said Eric.
“Pardon?”
“I said it was probably a lorry that brought them here.”
“Yeh, whatever.”
“And the second?”
“Hmm, I was hoping you’d not ask me that,” Jimmy replied gloomily.
“Why?”
“It’s at the other end... adjoining the factory. It’s where they go in to be processed.”
“Oh, I see.”
Mulling over the situation, ruminating how they might free the horses, Jimmy concluded they had no other option other than climbing the fence and making our way across to the far side of the yard, where they could see about opening the gate (assuming they had remained unseen).
Looking up at the factory building, and the many windows overlooking the yard, Eric said, “It’s an awfully tall order.”
“I know,” Jimmy replied. “But what other option have we?”
The horses, whinnying with ever-increasing excitement, jostled for position, trying to follow their would-be liberators across the crowded holding pen. While keeping a watchful eye on one of the horses, an unusually large specimen with piebald markings that was following their every move, Eric said, “We’ll get crushed if they go berserk.”
Ignoring his scaremongering, Jimmy continued to work his way through the horses, to the gate at the far side of the pen, and when he arrived there, with Eric in hot pursuit and the piebald horse a close third, he grumbled, “Another padlock! Pass me the bolt cutter, will you?”
“The bolt cutters?”
“Yes, the bolt cutters – and hurry!”
After an enormously long pause, Eric whispered, “I’m sorry, I forgot it…”
“What?” Jimmy hissed. “What did you say?”
“I said, I forgot it,” Eric whispered even quieter.
“Where is it, then?” Jimmy asked, fighting the urge to whack his ‘best friend’ in the mouth, to knock a bit of sense into him.
Pointing to the far side of the yard, Eric said, “I left it over there, where we cut the first padlock…”
While Jimmy brooded over the loss of their bolt cutters, one of the horses, the piebald specimen that had been following them so closely, nudged Eric in the back. “Stop it, he whispered.
The horse, however, nudged him again. “Stop doing that,” Eric chided, “we have problems enough without you distracting us, so.”
Turning to see what the fuss was about, and seeing the horse nudging Eric for a third time, Jimmy snapped out from his quandary, and he said, “That’s it! We don’t need that crumby old bolt cutter!”
Scratching his head in bewilderment, Eric said, “We don’t?”
“No, of course not!” Slapping himself in the forehead, Jimmy said, “Why didn’t I see it before?”
“See what?”
Ignoring his question, making a beeline for the horse, Jimmy bid Eric to do likewise. Patting the horse (it appeared quite happy to be the centre of attention), Jimmy said, “Give me a bunk-up, will you?”
“But?”
“There will be no ifs and buts, here,” he ordered. “Now come on, help me up – we haven’t got all day!”
Seated high upon the piebald horse, holding on tight to its long mane, Jimmy dug his heels deep into its belly. It whinnied, it grunted, it snarled and it growled, and then rising high on its hind legs it whinnied loudly before galloping headlong for the locked gate. SMASH! The gate broke into a thousand splintered pieces.
“Come on, Eric!” Jimmy yelled. “They must have heard that!”
Looking up to the windows, Eric saw one of them opening, with the unmistakable baldhead of Mr Viscous peering out, his piggy eyes glaring down at them. Realising what they were up to, he shouted, “GUARDS, GUARDS, STOP THEM, STOP THE LITTLE BEGGARS. THEY’RE STEALING MY HORSES!”
If there had been any doubts before, in the minds of the two boys, as to the number of guards employed by the factory owner, they faded into insignificance, because men – guards – appeared from all directions.
“Eric!” Jimmy yelled down at him, “Quick, jump up!” he patted the horse’s back, behind him.
Tearing out from the yard, Eric hopped, skipped and jumped onto the horse’s back. Grabbing hold of Jimmy by the waist, he hollered, “Get us the hell out of here!” Holding onto the horse’s mane, Jimmy dug his heels deep into its belly and they galloped away at full speed.
Looking over his shoulder, seeing the guards swarming around the startled animals in the incredibly small yard, Eric said, “What about the rest of the horses? We can’t just leave them there!”
“Unfortunately, for now, that’s all that we can do,” Jimmy replied, steering the horse down the road, away from the factory. “But we’ll be back,” he promised. “And Mr Viscous will rue the day he met me…”
Continued in Chapter Thirteen
What Shall We Call Her?
Well,
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