Biff could swim very well and did as he was told to, slowly sinking into the depths of the pool.
Sally and Buttons paced up and down at the shore. They knew how bad a rat bite could be. Nothing ever healed properly, it seemed, after a rat had bitten someone. Buttons was becoming angrier and angrier, snarling even at Sally as she tried to cheer her friend up. “Just stay away from me. I’ve just about had it. Do you understand?” She didn’t wait for an answer but began to pace again.
Biff’s head slowly emerged from the water, and the two dogs hurried to the shore as both the beaver and otter quickly made their way ahead of him.
The elder otter rose to her full height as she addressed them.
“He is hurt, but will heal in the way of the young. His eye is better than it looks. We cleaned it thoroughly and the beaver will pack it with the proper healing mud. It will remain puffy for a while, but do not worry, he will be in fighting mettle very soon. You did well in getting him here so quickly. Otherwise . . .”
She quit talking as the young bear shook himself off and followed the elder beaver along the shore.
In a cool place, he lay down as demanded, and the beaver went to work, applying a healing poultice to his eye. The otter nodded to the two and moved toward the bear, leaving Buttons and Sally alone, Iggy sitting above them watching with grave concern. He had not spoken during the entire episode, but simply sat wide-eyed as he watched his two best friends.
Buttons turned to Sally, her voice sharp and taut with anger and hatred. “I’ve had it. I think I know when they will come to shore. Do you remember, after the storm when we went along the swamp and found all of those trees down? How we went out on them with Iggy and the raccoon twins? Remember how far we had gotten before Ms. Lucie caught us and warned us back?” Her eyes glittered as she recalled that day.
Sally watched her friend with growing concern. “Yes, I remember. It would serve as a perfect bridge across that point. But hadn’t we better warn Ssserek and Ms. Lucie?”
Buttons frowned. “No time. Besides, as I said, I’ve had it. I’m heading for the swamp. Now!” She turned to go, then stopped, good sense getting the better of her anger.
“Call the muster. Call it to completion. We meet at Turnkey Bay. Hurry.”
Buttons was off, her small, black figure disappearing quickly into the gloomy dark which surrounded the beavers’ pool. Sally did as she was asked, and pointing her nose upward, began to bugle. Time and again, her high-pitched bugle sounded, carrying far and wide.
Instantly, a young wolf appeared with a ground-eating lope, his nose telling him exactly where to go. He followed Buttons’ tracks as though they were carefully stamped into the ground. She was not to be alone. And no one disobeyed Ssserek’s command.
Sally stood still, having finished her task. Then, with Iggy close behind, she turned and followed after Buttons and the wolf.
All the animals came, their passage was swift, if noisy, sending sleeping birds and rodents racing in all directions, some in panic, others in an orderly retreat from the edges of the swamp. Sally’s bugle went up again, her cry warning all those who watched that something was amiss. The field and forest awoke with a start. The battle would soon begin.
Buttons made no sounds but read the scents on the air like words in a book. The soft padding sounds of the wolf behind came to her keen ears, but she moved, her anger mounting as she neared the swamp.
Badger, skunk, raccoon, and mink surged up to the bank. Wolf, coyote, and fox ranged further out, keeping pace with ease. The larger of the woodchuck and groundhog slowed and took up their assigned places; they would form a rear guard, ranging back and forth between forest and field. They were not fighters under usual circumstances, but they would go down before allowing any rat to pass through to the defenseless small ones of the field and what lay beyond.
Full-grown bucks and the smaller males among the deer moved to and fro at the edges, their keen senses alert to possible attempts to skirt the defenses being mustered in full force. Only the hardiest and more daring of the rats would attempt to cross the river to the south. Too many and angry and vengeful eyes waited any such occurrence. The distant northern side was barred by the highway and fenced human fields. No, only the forest and field lay before the rats, and that way they were surely approaching.
Red-winged blackbird and morning dove rose into the air. They moved silently to the east, and then to the north, carefully approaching the deeper portions of the old swamp. Faint rustlings came to their sharp ears, but at this time, they could as yet detect no movement. Back and forth they moved, making intricate patterns in the sky.
All around the forest and field, birds were lifting into the air. Their keen vision was desperately needed this day, and they would not fail. Deer moved off silently, taking up the vigil at the periphery of the major action. Their swift speed would be needed to carry messages deep into the forest where birds could not penetrate with ease.
The large bulk of Biff moved south also. He was limping but gallant, one eye closed with poultice, the other glaring with anger. He moved not so swiftly, but his rolling gait covered the ground with amazing alacrity when he felt the need. Today, there was need.
The small rodents of the field and forest also moved south. Although they were little match for the larger rats, they would and could fight when the need was upon them. It was, now. The otters, too, moved toward the swamp. None would escape their attention should they prove foolish enough to move toward the river. The muster went on.
As Ssserek and Ms. Lucie were approaching Turnkey Bay with Rarebit hopping behind, a distant urgent whistle from the sky came down the wind. They moved even more quickly, the clamorous voices of many birds now joining that of the hawk, which soared in the distant sky. Nearly out of sight, the high-pitched whistle came again, urging them to even greater efforts.
The rats had been sighted. Just as Rarebit and Ms. Lucie had surmised, and Buttons had more recently guessed, they were coming in a tumbling rush of innumerable bodies. As Ssserek and Ms. Lucie had hoped, Delph, the alligator had appeared. Having escaped from the cruel cage of a roving side-show artist, he had taken abode in the swamp where he had met and been befriended by Buttons and Sally. As expected, he had laid in wait, as only an alligator can, resting comfortably on a partially sunken log, with only his keen eyes telling of his careful vigil. He could lay for hours on end, never moving a muscle except for his eyes, which missed nothing moving overhead, beneath the water, or on top of it.
It was Delph, the gator who had given the first warning to the birds overhead. He had lurked deep in the darker regions of the swamp until the first distant chitterings of the rats had warned him of their approach. Then, having warned the birds of the oncoming danger, he had fearlessly cruised along the rats. First, the rats had moved during the night along the edges of the fen and marsh, then had taken to the small islands and tussocks of grass which provided good footing and cover. Only when they had taken to moving along the trunks of dead trees torn up by the previous season’s storm could they be spotted. Here they moved swiftly, literally tumbling over one another in their hurry. Their eyes glowed red with anticipation. Their hunger was great, and with its urgency pressing them on, their anger, simmering at best at all times, now rose to greater heights. Their hunger drove them, while their anger gave them the necessary strength to surmount difficult objects that lay in their path. And behind, the voice drove them. A whiplash of hatred and spite. It drove them with barbs of words, promises of gluttony, and most of all, anticipation of hate’s fulfillment.
Buttons was at the swamp’s edge, waiting patiently now that the time had come. She did not turn as Sally and the young wolf ranged along side. With Ssserek’s and Ms. Lucie’s approach, Buttons turned and briefly nodded.
She glared at Rarebit, then relenting, spoke, “Rarebit, please go. This is no place for you. We couldn’t have properly prepared if it hadn’t been for your knowledge of the swamp. But, go. Please.”
Of necessity, Rarebit left, recognizing the wisdom of the words. A small frog would hardly have slowed the smaller of rats. His knowledge had been given, his plans lay out before all. Ms. Lucie must assume both roles now. Rarebit had no place in battle such as was coming, and Ms. Lucie was safe in a tree where she could observe the battle from her high vantage point, while receiving messages from the many birds that flocked above.
As she settled to watch, the battle began. Dwellers of the forest, field, and woods rushed to the shore as the high-pitched cry of the rats sounded.
Ssserek, Earl, the wolf, and the two small dogs met the first rats to land. The battle surged to and fro along the shore, the two small dogs doing great damage in their initial fury. But the numbers of rats increased rapidly, many rolling off the logs into the cold, deep water to swim ashore in a widening front of glaring red eyes.
As Earl fought with the singular intensity of his kind, several more wolves appeared, including the younger wolf who had followed Buttons, diving in to rip a ferocious rat from Buttons’s back. Others came; coyotes and a young lynx appeared as more rats drove upon the dogs. The rats could not match the wolves and coyotes in strength, but hordes of them kept appearing, driving ever further toward the forest, the depths of which could give them cover and the ability to attack from all directions at the same time.
Ssserek rose up and moved toward the vanguard of a new cluster of rats crossing tree limbs to sand. The rats recoiled as he struck and struck again. Bodies flew in all directions, and the serpent, wolf, and coyote made bloody forays into the rats’ midst. But there were too many rats and too few four-legged fighters. Suddenly, like a bullet from the sky, Ms. Lucie appeared by Ssserek.
In a whirl of wings, Ms. Lucie circled Ssserek’s head. “Keep it up. Rabbits and squirrels are sacrificing themselves to keep the rats from the forest. Small field mice are attacking a single rat in great numbers.”
Ssserek turned once again to the battle. At the shore’s edge, Buttons and Sally could be seen going down again and again under the weight of rats, only to rear up once again. Buttons would grab one, and with a furious shake of her head, would send it flying, the rat’s neck invariably broken.
Ssserek called to the two dogs who were tiring rapidly. Hardly any larger than the largest rat, they performed feats beyond any animal several-fold their size. But they were young and their energy was waning rapidly.
Ssserek called out, “Bugle, Sally, bugle as you have never bugled before. Bugle for more help.”
Ssserek’s exhortation was not lost on Sally as she and Buttons recognized the need for larger and stronger allies. Up went Sally’s voice, its clarion call reaching across marsh and forest. Buttons’s voice rose with Sally’s, the two resting against the fearsome form of Ssserek’s great breast.
Their voices carried above the trees, reaching out in urgency to bear, badger, and owl, reaching out to all who had claw or fang. The need was great, as it was urgent. And they came, large and small, brave and not-so-brave, they came.
As Biff—his anger and hatred covering him like a cloak—slashed at the remaining rats on shore, Buttons had attacked one of the large rats with the full ferocity of her breed. Born to be rat killers, she had reverted to her ancestral drives and was upon him before he had time to brace himself. She moved with a slashing attack which, in its utter recklessness, almost carried the day. Small she might be, but she was fearless though she faced an animal larger and more cunning. Even as she bowled the rat over, she was on top, tearing at his shoulder. He screamed in pain and drove her back. Back and forth they went, Buttons tiring as the fatigue of the long fighting caught her once again. The large rat grinned evilly and rushed at her, only to be smashed to the sand by Biff’s broad paw. He grinned lopsidedly, but moved back to the general fray.
Behind them, the deer had come in a wave of bodies. Then, it was the largest of the wild pigs, followed in turn by the smaller wild hogs. Their eyes matched the red of the rats, and the glitter of their anger was fearful to behold. Their broad noses swept mud, swamp, and rats before them, sweeping all indiscriminately into the air. What the deer missed the hogs could overwhelm with their bulk and strength and greater agility. Behind them came the peccaries and bobcats, raging to and fro, guarding the back of the deer and hog. And behind them were many wild or feral cats, feline grace and strength wreaking great havoc upon their natural enemies.
Cross-eye, tomcat and feline companion of bobcats, yowled in joy as he nearly bit through the neck of one rat while clawing the eye out of another. His low-pitched scream of pure fighting joy raised the fading spirits of all. His speed matched his ferocity, and the rats drew back in fear and wonder at his awesome attack.
It was perhaps the small size and ferocious strength of the peccaries which finally began to turn the tide. Their size was small, but their strength was great. The peccaries fought with tooth and cloven hoof, tearing and stomping, their high-pitched squeals of anger reverberating against the bordering forest.Their spirits rose even as Cross-eye, with a young bobcat at his shoulder, moved further in the now-crowded rats who were retreating into those who were moving forward.
Then, off one of the last remaining logs, King Rat appeared in front of Buttons. “So, little one,” he whined, “we meet again.”
Buttons’s snarl rose as she smelled the evil one. He was near, and she meant to have him. She turned and was off, racing across the fallen log. A large cluster of rats turned and followed, their red eyes never leaving the small, black figure.
The rats quickly closed the distance between themselves and the small, black dog. Just as they launched themselves upon her, the figure of Biff and the lone wolf appeared. Biff slashed right and left as the wolf tore into the rats. The rats were fierce fighters, quick and intelligent in their movements. But they stood no chance against the bulk and strength of Biff, and even less, against the cold ferocity of the wolf.
The situation was rapidly resolved in their favor. As Biff sat panting while the wolf dispatched the last of the rats, he turned back and forth, seeking Buttons. But seek where he may, he could not detect her. He turned right and left, but could not pick up her odor in the fearful mess of marsh and broken rats. The young wolf nodded without speaking a word. Both knew what must be done. They moved off more slowly now, casting back and forth along the shore as it turned and twisted to the south.
But past the shore, Buttons stared at her tormentor.
“You are brave, little sister,” he hissed at her. “But it will heed you nothing this day. You belong to me.”
Buttons’s ears laid flat back along her head. Her snarl rose as she attacked, slashing at the shoulder of her vile opponent. The rat moved like a flash, twisting to avoid her attack, and at the same time, tearing her flank as she passed.
His gleeful hiss came clearly. “Too late, little sister, my minions are even now circling to enter the forest. Once there, we will never be dislodged.”
It was Buttons’s turn to scream, shrilly for the pain was great. She turned in less than the length of her small compact body and grabbed the rat’s long ropy tail. He rose into the air, his voice tearing at her in anger and pain. He tore loose and raced for the embankment and the forest beyond.
Buttons’s four legs churned the sand as she leaped after him. As she leaped upon his back, she spoke into his ear, “Not yet, my old friend, not just yet. Remember?”
Her jaws clamped tightly about the tail and the two rolled down the embankment. The rat had never known such pain, and he heard his tail snap as she crushed it. He squealed again and again as he ripped his torn and bloodied tail from her grasp.
“You, you, fiend. Look, look at what you have done. You’ll pay for this.” He leaped at her, his lips as red with blood as his eyes were with hatred.
Buttons leaped to one side and slashed the shoulder of the rat as he passed. But the rat was able to bowl the Scottie over and turned, leaping upon her, his teeth going for her exposed neck.
Buttons kicked upward with al
l four feet, catching the rat squarely in the chest, sending him rolling in the sand. Both leaped to their feet, heads low and fangs bared. They circled, the rat’s tail dragging as it left a thin trail of blood on the sand. He backed away from the snarling small dog whose coat was smeared with mud and blood. Then, with a sudden leap, he lifted himself onto a tree trunk, racing away from her, deeper into the swamp.
Buttons never hesitated. Scrambling onto the tree, she followed, taking more care than the rat, whose claws could more easily grip the wet and slippery surface. Further out they went, tree to tussock of grass to tree, and finally, to a small island of grass and mud. He smiled grimly as he hunched himself for the anticipated attack which came quicker than even he had expected. The small dog wasted no time in circling. She simply launched herself straight into his face.
The snarling mass of Buttons and the rat disappeared into the swirling pool of cold, dark water. They sank rapidly into its depths, but the rat fought his way free and swiftly moved toward the surface. Irked now, and weak from the loss of blood, he pulled himself partially onto the bank of the small island of grass. Buttons more slowly struggled to the surface. She was a poor swimmer at the best of times, and now, she, too, was weak and tired. Her fear she swallowed, not without some water. Despite her waning strength, her determination rose with her, slowly at first, and then more swiftly. Seeing King Rat crawling from the water only gave her greater resolve.
Her short legs churned the muddy water into a froth of muck, weed, and grass. She leaped upon the shore and grabbed the rat as he was about to move even deeper into the swamp. He screamed once again as her needle-sharp teeth pierced his flesh. Buttons was not to be denied. She whirled him about and then tossed him off the embankment, slipping as she did so on the wet grass mixed with mud. He sank into the dark waters without a sound, his lips curled in a silent snarl of hatred and glaring eyes. But Buttons’s footing was poor, and then she fell with a loud splash into the water once again. This time, her tired legs could barely move. She gasped for air, but sucked in water. Her lungs felt on fire. Then, as weariness overcame her, she slipped slowly and then more rapidly into the depths where glittering red eyes waited.
The Adventures of Button Page 9
