"That's enough," Percy said sternly.
Reluctantly, the Sergeant Major let his sword fall, stung by the sharp tone of reproof in his monarch's voice.
"They ain't but criminals, every durned one on 'em," the sparrow muttered. "Treat 'em like criminals, I say." But he made no further movements to harass the young boar, who lay without moving on his back in the muck.
It was not long thereafter before Jupe and Agamemnon appeared on the scene. The two armadillos were in the highest of spirits, laughing and jousting spiritedly with each other as they came out of the grass and into the clearing. If anything, the brief encounter and pursuit of the warthogs which followed it seemed to have left these animals in a higher state of energy than ever. They cheerfully approached the others. When they noticed the youth at the feet of the sparrow, however, the armadillos' good humor ceased.
"What's this for?" Jupe said antagonistically, directing at the same time a look of supreme contempt upon the sparrow. "I thought we weren't going to take any prisoners."
Agamemnon shook his head in disgust. "We could have brought back any number of them," he said scornfully, "if we'd attempted to take prisoners. For goodness' sake, let him go before the judge gets here!"
On hearing this suggestion voiced by the armadillo--one which Boston had been entertaining privately all along--the bear's face brightened. He looked at the lion.
"I agree, Lion. Let's let him go."
Percy, as it turned out, was in complete agreement with these sentiments, and he was about to respond in kind when he was cut short by a peremptory grunt.
"Haarumph!"
The armadillo groaned. "Too late--now you've done it!" he muttered in dismay.
At the sound of this grunt Boston had sighed fretfully and looked up, his brow creased again with worry. Honorashious was descending gracefully and soundlessly into the clearing on enormous, outstretched wings.
"Haarumph!" the owl grunted as he plopped into the muck and folded his wings on his back. He narrowed his gaze sharply, focusing on the prostrate warthog. "Sergeant Major! Secure the prisoner!" Then, on closer examination he added: "Use humane procedures--Haarumph!--A juvenile, apparently!"
"Aye Jedge!" the Sergeant Major said, his spirits rising with the arrival of the owl.
"They're all juveniles, Judge," Boston said.
"Haarumph! An observation the making of which I am perfectly capable myself--haarumph!--and one of which I am also well aware, thank you Boston," the owl said with a condescending nod at the bear.
"Well," the bear continued with hopeful reasonableness, "Look's like this boar's learned his lesson, Judge. We were just about to let him go so's we can get on across this savannah. We already lost time dealing with the warthogs; and even though we been doing pretty well up to now, we're going to have to pick up the pace if we want to make the Razorbacks before nightfall."
"Haarumph!" the owl grunted with extreme vexation. "Let him go, indeed!" he cried indignantly. "I assure you that the court also is well aware of the urgency of the task at hand--haarumph--and of the schedule, which I arranged myself!" The owl glared at the bear and lifted in turn each of his massive claws, now plastered with muck, and gave them a shake. "However," he continued in forceful, measured tones, looking combatively at each of them in turn, "the court will brook no interference, and justice will be done! Haarumph! The Seventh Juridical will conduct a thorough review of the case and then--and only then--will formulate a decision as to whether or not it warrants a full hearing before the Hawg City, Warthog Court!--Haarumph! Haarumph!"
The owl glared defiantly at the collection of scowls and sardonic, knowing looks with which the band of animals met these words. Boston, as serious and conscientious as ever, heaved a great sigh of concern but was silent. The lion, by contrast, protested in exasperation:
"Oh, for crying out loud! We aren't going to belabor this into a full blown case are we? See here now, Owl--"
But at this moment a great deal of noise and commotion erupted suddenly beyond the edge of the clearing, cutting the lion off. Much grunting and snorting accompanied by the gasping sounds of a convulsive giggling reached the group's ears. All now diverted their attention to this new activity.
"Try that again and you shall get more of the same," a voice, identifiable as that of Egbert, shrilled sternly.
"Ohhhhhooo..." the bear groaned and shook his head. The lion and the armadillos rolled their eyes in unison.
A moment later, surly and unrepentant, Slag appeared, followed a bit behind and to one side by a diminutive, limping Bartruff. The squirrel marched at close order behind, feather sword drawn and at the ready for instant application to Slag's heels at the least provocation.
"Haarumph!" Honorashious grunted, somewhat taken aback at this unexpected development.
The squirrel marched his prisoners across the clearing, halting them beside Squeegie, who still lay prostrate at the feet of the Sergeant Major.
"Down!" the squirrel fairly shrieked, somewhat carried away with the excitement of the moment. "Down on the ground!"
Bartruff complied immediately, only too happy to take the weight off his injured hoof. Slag, after an appropriately unresponsive pause, during which he took the opportunity to sweep the assembled band with a surly look of unconcern, finally sank down upon his stomach in the muck. A disrespectful smirk of boredom creased his great snout as he laid it flat on the ground before him, and he wiggled his belly deeper into the muck for greater comfort. Egbert swelled with pride and stood by stiffly, waiting for the praise of the others.
The Sergeant Major scowled, saying querulously:
"Ain't we got enough trouble, 'thout carry'n the wounded with us too?" The sparrow viewed the new arrivals with ill concealed envy.
"I beg you pardon, Sergeant Major!" Egbert sputtered with defensive indignation. "This is the leader of the gang, and this other his adjutant!"
"Haarumph! Hold on now, Egbert," the owl interjected with mild reproof. "You're getting a little carried away with yourself talking about--haarumph--leaders and adjutants and so forth. These are hardly more than so many children that we have here."
"I agree Judge," the bear spoke up eagerly. "Not much sense in making a mountain out of a mole hill!"
"Haarumph--hardly more than children," Honorashious repeated in somewhat strained, patronizing tones, "yet they are just a bit more." The owl opened his eyes wide and stared at the bear. "The court does not intend to realize your--haarumph--trite admonition and make a mountain of a mole hill, Boston--haarumph! Children or no, the wrong here sustained by the monarch, Perceival--"and the owl nodded his head slightly at the lion--"as well as by these brave troops--"and he nodded here at the group generally--"must, nevertheless, be redressed! In full!--haarumph--haarumph!"
"I should say so!" Egbert said reproachfully.
The bear received this rebuke in silence, well aware that his best chance for influencing the future course of events lay in the avoidance of direct confrontation with the owl. To the bear's exceeding distress, however, Percy took a characteristically dissimilar tack.
"Mugglewumps!" the lion snorted in disgust. "What redress? These pitiful hogs failed to inflict even the slightest harm on any one of us. Where is the harm?"
The owl was patient.
"Haarumph!--my dear Percy, you may be king, but you are certainly no attorney at law!--haarumph!--Just because we have successfully foiled the ill intent of these warthogs," the owl intoned gravely and raised a wing of warning in the air, "does not remove the necessity for redress. Nor does their failure to carry it out serve to mitigate the crime entirely--haarumph--haarumph!"
The bear decided to take a different tack. Yielding to the inevitable, while at the same time attempting to gain some control over the proceedings, he said with authority: "The Judge does have a point, Lion. Let's get on with a review of the facts surrounding the culpability of these three hogs in this attack." He hoped by this show of support to influence the outcome of such a review in fav
or of a quick decision to drop any charges against the young hogs, and so to expedite the group on their way.
Percy snorted and shook his head, but lent his tacit agreement to the bear by maintaining silence.
"Haarumph--haarumph," the owl grunted thoughtfully and lifted his claws each in turn, a sure indication that some new perturbation was imminent. "Haarumph--I had intended by a thorough review of the case of this young boar, lying here prone at the feet of the Sergeant Major, to determine its suitability for further disposition in Warthog Court--haarumph--haarumph. Such a review seemed at that time to auger a result the most propitious to achieving our ends. However--haarumph--the capture of these two additional criminals"--and here the owl injected into his stentorian voice a note of the utmost sternness--"for yes, we must so designate these individuals criminals, despite their youth--haarumph--the capture of said additional criminals obviates the need for any review by the Seventh Juridical, any further than what facts are known and shared in equally by all here present, and I can say with all assurance and without any further deliberations that this case must be, and is, based on the sole authority of myself in speaking for, and as, the Seventh Juridical, hereby remanded immediately--haarumph--haarumph--to Warthog Court, and that said prisoners shall be removed at once to those precincts in Hawg City!"
The bear stared as if struck dumb in disbelief. Percy snorted, the armadillos fumed, yet all realized that in the face of the complex legal technicalities upon which the owl based his remanding of the case--the knowledge of which legal technicalities lay well outside any of their areas of expertise--any further attempts to raise objections would be futile. Egbert, for one, was actually exceedingly pleased at the court's seeming vindication of his capturing of Slag and Bartruff. The great horned owl swelled with pride, preening his feathers vainly, as if to highlight this outrageous display of autocratic authority.
"You heard 'im," the Sergeant Major bellowed with belligerence and waved his feather sword dangerously in the air above his head. "Move these hogs out! To Hawg City!"
And the disgruntled band complied.
22. The Prisoners are Brought to Hawg City
At The Heritage, irritated by the rude and unnecessary interruption of what had been shaping up into an otherwise pleasurable wallow, Bort Swinson delivered a sharp rebuke to the receptionist as he passed through the lobby on his way out.
"Unsatisfactory!" he growled. "You'll have to do better than that for my money!"
The sow opened her eyes in wide, innocent concern.
"But Mr. Swinson, the routers are on their way now," she pleaded. "I'm sure it will be only a few minutes."
"Bah!" grunted our boar with a dismissive gesture of his great snout, and without pausing to address the sow further, he went on out.
On the pathway outside he joined the flowing mass of hogs and retraced his way back to the boulevard. At the corner two sows had faced off in an angry altercation, blocking the way. A crowd of snorting, grunting spectators had formed about them and were yelling imprecations and egging the two on. As our boar pushed and shoved his way through these spectators, the sows backed off and then charged, butting heads with a resounding clash of snouts and tusks. A great cheer rose from the crowd. As the two principals then proceeded to tear and gore each other with their sharp tusks, the warthogs snorted and stamped their hooves in approval. Bort shoved his way past and turned left on the boulevard, continuing on away from the central city.
Not a half a block further on our boar was delayed again, by a second, similar altercation of hogs. This time, however, the activity had assumed the character and proportions of a general melee. Two bloody boars occupied the heart of this chaos. About them six or seven others were occupied in various stages of similar activity, differing from the two main participants only in the quantity of blood they displayed. Two of these were furiously engaged in butting heads, while the rest tore and gored each other with their tusks. In contrast with the previous altercation, this crowd of spectators muttered and cursed with sinister vehemence and eyed their neighbor with malevolent intent.
Bort paused for a moment on the fringes of this activity, rising on his hind legs to see better over the heads of those in front. The two in the center had stopped, their tusks still locked tightly together, and sides heaving, exhausted. The yellow dust, suffocatingly thick as a matter of course, was doubly so as a result of all of this violent activity, and Bort snorted and wheezed as he squinted his eyes, peering at the only dimly visible participants. From the crowd a bevy of impatient grunts and snorts arose, and the hogs began to stamp their hooves and stir restlessly about.
Bort dropped back down on all fours and joined a thin trickle of traffic which had formed at the sides of the disturbance and was squeezing by, skirting the crowd along the very edge of the sewer ditch.
"For goodness' sake," he muttered, "sure are frisky today!"
He had decided to forego the rest of the afternoon at work. The interruption of his wallow had ruined his outlook, and the thought of spending the remaining several hours of the day at the office of his life insurance company was too great to bear. He would not be missed--they would assume he was out on a call.
Comforted by these thoughts, our boar plodded steadfastly on down the boulevard toward his home. It was slow going in the heavy traffic, so he had not progressed far beyond the previously related disturbance when all movement ceased abruptly. The traffic congealed into a solid, immobile mass of flesh in which our boar was embedded like an insect in a drop of amber. Raising his snout, he peered ahead through the thick yellow dust over the backs of similarly raised hogs in front of him but was unable to discern the cause of this delay. There were no visible signs of disturbance. The only sounds which came to his ears from up ahead were a general and uninformative rumble of grunts, snorts, and curses. He lowered his snout. 'Must be an emergency,' he thought and then smirked with contempt. 'Or an official entourage.' The thought of a pampered, impatient delegation plodding through the dusty traffic made him chuckle to himself. Then he frowned and narrowed his eyes, 'Naw, more than likely it was another overflow--the fault of the Routers. Those Routers really were too sorry for words. There was no excuse for such delays.'
He waited with growing impatience for the stopped traffic to break up and finally had begun to weigh the consequences of taking a detour via the putrid ditch alongside the road. Before he could complete the analysis of this interesting alternative, however, the general grunting and snorting rose a level in volume, and he detected the intermingled sounds of non-warthog voices coming from up ahead. Rising up on his hind legs he could see dimly, far ahead, that the hog traffic seemed to be parting before an advancing party. 'Must be coming in from out in the savannah,' he surmised. 'They really should have taken another route.' As the party grew closer the crowd around our boar began to compress and move towards the sides of the boulevard to accommodate their passage. Inexorably, those closest to the edge were pushed, cursing and grunting, into the ditch. Bort moved with the rest of the crowd to the side of the road. Here the crush became so great that he began to experience difficulty in breathing. The entourage was in close proximity now, and an irascible voice had become clearly audible:
"Get out'n the way--huff, huff--ye blasted hawgs! 'fficial bidness! Prisoners come'n through! Out'n the--huff, huff--way!" A paroxysm of coughing punctuated these ejaculations, which were emitted in a great, booming voice. "I cain't stand it!--huff, huff--Durned dust 's goin' to kill me!"
Next, the cause of our boar's delay came into his field of view. An armadillo plodded in advance of a slowly proceeding entourage, his head down, parting the crowd with the grim and inevitable progression of a small tank. Upon the back of this armadillo a squirrel clung, gripping in his paw a feather sword which he held outstretched before him and waved in a threatening manner at the blocking hogs. In contrast to the calm and grim stoicism of the armadillo, the countenance of this squirrel reflected in its twisted contortions an emotional state of extreme
nervous distress. At intervals of every fifty yards or so the squirrel proclaimed in a shrill voice as they proceeded: "Perceval Theodilious Reinsgold the Eighth, arriving!"
Behind these came the apparent prisoners, adolescent warthogs, marching three abreast. Standing guard with a feather sword, a fierce and scraggly sparrow rode behind upon the back of a second armadillo. Despite his diminutive stature this sparrow appeared the incongruous owner of the great, booming voice which was heard earlier. At this moment he convulsed and bent over double, overcome by a fit of violent hacking.
"Bartruff!" our boar yelped suddenly in shocked amazement as his eyes settled upon one of the prisoners. "What the--"
Bartruff plodded along, his head hung in shame, between the two others. Our boar's exclamation was lost in the general noise and confusion of the crowd, and neither Bartruff nor the other prisoners looked to the side.
Bort looked on in numb disbelief as the final members of the group passed before his eyes. These were a great bear, blinking and sneezing, his brown fur colored yellow with a thick coat of the ubiquitous dust; and a lion, beset with similar effects, who proceeded beside the bear. As they passed, the lion gave his great mane a vigorous shake, and a thick cloud of dust rose into the already dirty air.
"Get these blasted hawgs out'n the way!" the sparrow shouted fiercely, glaring at the crowd with malevolent intent. "Pris'ners come'n through! Out'n the way, dangit!"
Someone yelled irreverently: "What'd they do?"
Unfortunately, it was at this instant that another fit of coughing racked the poor sparrow's frame with such violence that it drew muddy tears to the bird's eyes, and he could only gasp incoherently in helpless frustration.
"Let 'em go...," another voice yelled. "You got no business down here!.... Let those warthogs go!"
"Yeah!" several other voices shouted.
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