With these unsettling and worrisome thoughts the bear lumbered on in the lead. As predicted, they soon left the jungle and entered the tall grass of the savannah. Extending as far as the eye could see to the north and south a blanket of rolling yellow grass covered the flat earth. Directly in front of them, just over a day's journey to the east, the Razorbacks rose into the sky.
They had not penetrated far into the grasslands before the path they were following had divided so many times into smaller capillaries that it finally diffused and disappeared altogether. Jupe and the Sergeant Major took the lead here, breaking a path through the high grass for Percy and Boston, who brought up the rear. The ground, which had been firm at the edge of the jungle, soon became soft and then soggy. With each step the animals sank lower into the muck. Water appeared, a thin film lying on the top of the muck at first, then standing in scattered pools, displaying on its surface a prismatic variety of ribboned colors. In company with this liquefaction of the earth a noxious smell had become increasingly noticeable. After continuing under these worsening conditions for some time Jupe stopped in his tracks, effectively halting the entire group.
"Get go'n!" the Sergeant Major barked with irritation and at the same time dug his claws ineffectually into the armored plate on the armadillo's back. "What're ye stoppin fer?"
Jupe stood without moving, up to his knees in the muck. He was staring impassively ahead into the grass.
"Ye dang'd reptile! Get movin!" the sparrow shrieked. But the armadillo only stood still, his head down, as mute and unresponsive as a statue. "Varmint!"
The sparrow, beside himself with frustration and anger at his own helplessness, glared about at the others.
These, however, were preoccupied with their own concerns. Percy had found a small high spot to stand on and was attempting to shake the muck from a great paw. This higher elevation was so small that all four of his paws were clustered close together beneath him, and he maintained his balance only with great difficulty. Boston was looking about somewhat desperately--and unsuccessfully--for a similar high spot upon which he could rise out of the mess. Mud dripped from the fur on the poor bear's belly where it had dragged the ground and rose in a thick plaster to his knees and elbows. Egbert and Honorashious, like the Sergeant Major, were high and dry. Egbert clung to the armadillo's plated back behind the sparrow, facing backwards, the animal's tail between his legs. Honorashious perched somewhat precariously on Agamemnon's back. The great horned owl, rising fully three feet in height, dwarfed the small animal below and presented a ludicrous appearance. The comedy of this scene was heightened by a grunting and straining of Olympian proportions from the armadillo, reflected also in the grimaces which contorted his snout, as the animal struggled stoically to make his way through the fetid muck beneath the combined weight of the great bird and the group's provisions.
The Sergeant Major settled on the owl, finally, as the only member of the group whose mental faculties were sufficiently disengaged to address the business at hand.
"Jedge?" the sparrow said plaintively.
"Haarumph," the owl grunted and shifted his weight a bit. Shaking a claw was out of the question due to the difficulty with which he maintained his balance. "Sergeant Major--haarumph--what is the difficulty?"
"Jupe's stonewall'n. He jest stopped and won't go no further."
"Haarumph! Jupiter! What is the meaning of this?"
Without turning around or moving in any way whatsoever the impassive armadillo spoke:
"I suppose we are going to continue to slog mindlessly through this sickening mess until we all drown?"
"Haarumph!"
"Does anyone have any intention of looking for higher ground? If this keeps up, we won't make it."
Agamemnon grunted. "Hope we don't meet up with any warthogs," he said. The weight of his load had pressed the animal down to his belly in the muck and glued the feathers of his dangling sword into a single thick thread.
Boston, meanwhile, resigning himself to a condition of misery, had given up the search for higher ground. Now he devoted his attention to this latest development. Viewing the sorry state of the pack armadillo beneath the owl, he spoke up:
"Agamemnon, I'd carry Honorashious on my back," he said sympathetically, "but those claws would cut into me. Same goes for Percy. And just like you said yourself, we don't want to attract any warthog’s attention by the Judge's being up in the air, so you'll just have to put up with it. That's the way it is."
"'ppreciate your concern," the armadillo muttered with fine sarcasm.
"As to what Jupe just said--no matter howsomever it wasn't put in a positive tone--there just might be something to be gained from picking the highest ground to walk on rather than slogging down through this mess until we're down in it up to our necks." The bear rose erect upon his hind legs as he spoke. At his full height his head rose just above the grass, and he peered across the savannah. "It appears that there may be some higher ground if we veer to the right here, Jupe. From here on out you keep on ahead in the lead and I'll try and steer us clear of the worst of this slop."
With that Jupe started to move again and the group soon found themselves, happily, on fairly dry ground. They continued in this manner throughout the morning, the bear scouting out the higher ground and steering the group to it whenever necessary. In this way they managed at least to keep from sinking below their ankles in the putrid muck.
"Haarumph," grunted the owl, and while carefully maintaining his balance, he shifted his wings on his back preparatory to making some pronouncement. "This caustic muck--which I am so fortunate as to be able on most occasions to avoid by means of flying above it--this fetid, gel of waste--haarumph!--illustrates most vividly the error of the misdirected and irresponsible policies of those beasts who occupy the enormous city to our north and presages the ill-fated end which awaits them. For, of course, it is none other than Hawg City--haarumph!--that is the source of this putrid, polluted mess, the influx of which has ruined the whole savannah. Yes, Boston, Percy--this is the waste of the warthogs through which you are now slogging. This is the effluent of these beasts."
Percy frowned.
"Do you mean to tell me that all of this is caused by the hogs? Intolerable! I had no idea things had got this bad. We must draft a law immediately to clean up this mess!"
"Haarumph!" the owl grunted and chuckled to himself. "Yes, Percy, a law indeed! Haarumph--if only it were that easy! The Seventh Juridical would be most pleased to bring the law to bear on these practices of the warthogs, and the court has by no means shirked its duties in this area, having on countless occasions argued the issues with the hogs themselves. During any explication of the problem, however, complexities arise which militate against the successful resolution of the problem."
"Nonsense!" muttered the lion.
"Haarumph--these problems are compounded immensely by the magnitude of effort required to enforce such a law against so great numbers of warthogs without their cooperation in policing themselves."
"I warned you about this," Egbert said sagely.
"Well, we'll see how hard it is when the whole jungle comes after them!" the lion muttered angrily as he pulled a paw from the sucking muck. Then in a more subdued tone, he added in dismay: "I had no idea it had reached such a state over here."
Except for a break for lunch at noon the group pressed on across the savannah without pause. Such good time had they begun to make, traveling on the higher ground, that by early afternoon they had traversed nearly half of its extent. Their spirits had risen, and a lively and cheerful conversation had broken out. Even the armadillos were cracking wry jokes and engaging in a good natured repartee with the Sergeant Major.
The terrain, though more or less uniform, broke up at times into patches where the grass thinned and formed open areas. As our group was crossing one of these clearings, they found themselves sinking deeper into the muck. The clearing was dotted with standing pools of colorful liquid, and it was evident that soon they w
ould sink up to their knees if they continued on their present course. Boston rose on his hind legs to his full height in an attempt to scout a drier route. The bear examined the grass for the all but undetectable variations in color and height which were the signs of higher ground.
Suddenly, he froze, sharply narrowing his eyes. Not far to the north and somewhat ahead to the east, the otherwise smooth surface formed by the tops of the tall grass roiled violently as a result of some disturbance below. This roiling movement composed an irregular patch approximately fifty yards wide and again as deep. Like a school of fish running beneath a yellow sea the patch was moving rapidly in their direction. The bear dropped to all fours, his brow furrowed with grave concern.
"We got trouble, Gents," he said tersely. "Draw out your swords. You're going to be needing them any minute now."
This announcement was met almost instantaneously by a rasping shriek:
"Aaaaawwk!"
Lying on his back in the muck, gasping with incredulous surprise, was the Sergeant Major. In the next instant the bird sprang erect upon his stick-like legs, the muck dripping from the backsides of his wings. "Ye danged reptilian varmint!" he sputtered angrily, shaking his wings.
Jupe, the armadillo, had bucked the bird unceremoniously from his back on hearing the words of the bear. The armadillo's eyes gleamed with happy excitement. "Shut up and get out your sword," he said cheerfully, taking a couple of vigorous swipes through the air with the feathers.
The others followed suit. Honorashious flapped his great wings and rose into the air, happy to be free of the unnatural injunction which constrained him to the ground. Agamemnon dumped his pack on a small, somewhat drier spot of ground and then proceeded to knock the mud off of the glued feathers of his sword. In the matter of less than a minute the entire group stood ready for action, vibrating with excitement.
Alone of the group, Boston expressed his usual anxious demeanor as he examined critically the lay of the land in the clearing. The deepness of the muck here bothered him.
"Looks like its firmer over on that side," observed Percy, who had been conducting a similar survey of their surroundings. The lion was a professional for whom the possibility of an encounter with warthogs was merely an "all in a day's work" proposition. His demeanor, though calculating, lacked the seriousness of the bear.
Boston furrowed his brow and agreed: "That looks about as good as we can do." He addressed the group. "Everybody get over there on the firmer ground. Egbert, I strongly recommend you knock it off and get over there."
The squirrel, who had jumped free earlier when Jupe had bucked the sparrow from his back, was engaged now in a sparring contest with the armadillo. As if on a lark, the entire group charged to the other side. Percy, calm and unconcerned sat on his haunches, at the forefront. They waited.
Honorashious, reconnoitering from above, swooped down low to the ground and, with somewhat less of the formality of the court in his voice, shouted at them as he passed: "Warthogs! A whole herd! Less than a--haarumph--hundred yards away--" hooted the owl, rising again into the air to regain the advantage natural to his species. "Haarumph--stand at ready!"
And at that moment the group could discern just beyond the edge of the clearing the movements of the grass presaging the enemy's approach. Much snorting and grunting was audible now, mingled with the pounding, thumping sound of many hooves.
"Aaaaaaaeeeeeaaaawwwwk!" the Sergeant Major shrieked in an exhilarating and terrifying war whoop as he charged forward, brandishing his sword in the air. For opposite to them the first warthog had appeared, tearing through the grass into the clearing. He tossed his snout viciously about in the air, snorting and grunting fiercely all the while, and pranced frenziedly about with strangely delicate placements of his hooves in the mud. In this first warthog to arrive on the scene could be recognized the unstable features of Squeegie, the young boar who earlier had been the harbinger to the hawghoppers of what--as it now became evident--was our band's approach. He paused for an instant, panting, a malicious grin upon his snout, and glanced back over his shoulder.
Next, Slag burst into the clearing, tossing his snout in the air and brandishing his tusks, and then all of the others piled forth close behind.
The intense state of excitement into which these events had thrown our group can well be imagined. They wasted no time in rising to the occasion. Gone now from the bear's visage was the former look of worry and anxiety, and in its place a fierce and determined warlike expression.
The Sergeant Major was the first to engage. Passing by Slag, who had charged immediately to the forefront, the sparrow thrust his sword into Squeegie's snout. The appearance of this sword had made a singular impression upon that individual, who had started in surprise and attempted to withdraw, only too late to avoid the indomitable sparrow's thrust. The boar fell gasping and sneezing to the ground and rolled over helplessly upon his back. The sparrow then proceeded with the élan of an expert to deliver the coups de grace, touching the point of his weapon to the soft center of the animal's hoof. The young boar lay helpless and giggling uncontrollably upon the ground, his features distorted by an expression of sheer terror.
Slag, having benefited from the experience of his unfortunate comrade, halted and jerked his snout to the side just in time to avoid a sharp thrust from Jupe. The armadillo charged forward and again thrust expertly with his sword, swiping the hog's belly. At the touch of the feather Slag giggled convulsively and started backward, retreating warily before the professional and determined advance of the armadillo.
The others of our group responded with similar success, and the warthogs--most of whom lacked either the courage of Slag or the foolishness of the first boar--wavered uncertainly. At this moment Percy romped almost playfully across the clearing, a grimly mischievous expression on his noble features, brandishing his feathers. This sight was enough for Slag, who turned tail and with much snorting and grunting shouted desperately:
"They got feathers! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!"
Seeing his retreat, the other warthogs turned in unison and scattered into the grass each in his own direction.
21. The Criminals are Apprehended and the Case is Remanded
Their blood up, our fearless band gave chase into the savannah, harassing the hogs for some distance in the wake of their ignominious retreat, heaping shouts of abuse and ridicule upon their backs. Eventually the animals tired of chasing the hogs through the muck, and one by one they returned to the clearing.
Boston, who had participated only briefly in this sport, was the first back and now awaited anxiously the return of the others. His brow had creased and his features had taken on once again their characteristic look of worry. With their encountering of the warthogs the worst of his fears had been realized, and now he could only hope that they would take no prisoners. He had been pacing anxiously back and forth across the clearing for quite some time before any of the others joined him. Percy arrived first, chuckling to himself, in a good mood despite the muck-spattered condition of his tawny gold fur. On sighting the lion the bear was relieved to see that he was alone.
"Hah! What a pitiful crowd that was!" the lion exclaimed with good humor. "Hardly worth the trouble of unsheathing your sword."
"Well," Boston said soberly, "I could wish we hadn't met up with them. Did we get any prisoners?"
Percy frowned.
"Hmm. Not that I saw. I do concede your point, however. If the owl gets hold of a prisoner, we could be delayed."
Next to return was the Sergeant Major, and the short lived hopes of the bear were dashed once and for all. For the sparrow, exhibiting upon his visage an expression of the fiercest military pride, feather sword drawn and at ready, rode triumphantly upon the back of the pathetic young boar, Squeegie, who had first led the others into the clearing. It seems that, seeing the others in pursuit of the fleeing hogs and not wishing to miss out on this special privilege of the victor, the Sergeant Major had released his victim, allowing him to get up and set off into t
he high grass. Poor Squeegie, however, had progressed only a matter of some yards into the surrounding savannah before the sparrow--who as it may well be imagined was hard pressed to keep up, hopping frantically in pursuit on his twig-like legs, nearly losing his prisoner in the process--cruelly applied the feather sword and incapacitated the young boar. With the cruelty instilled in the hardened soldier by many hard fought battles the sparrow then began a game of cat and mouse, permitting the boar to rise as if to let him go, but then allowing him no more than a few steps before he would apply the feather sword and bring him to the ground. He harassed the hapless hog for quite some time in this manner, until, tiring of the sport, he had returned with his quarry to the clearing. Needless to say, he had never entertained for a single moment any ideas as to releasing his prisoner.
"Get right over there," the bird ordered. "Right over there 'aside that lion and bear."
Squeegie stopped before Boston and Percy. The Sergeant Major hopped to the ground. By means of an application of the feather sword he induced the boar to drop to the ground at his feet, where he lay giggling convulsively.
"Not so rough, Sergeant Major," the bear said severely. "That boar's only a youngster."
"Youngster!" the sparrow sputtered indignantly and turned to confront the bear. "He ain't attack'n like no youngster!" The bird glared defiantly at the bear and raised his sword again as if to strike the youth.
The Hollowed Tree Page 12
