In addition to possessing a talent for the adroit handling of bureaucratic litigation, Leonard also showed a marked, and complementary, propensity towards activism. Now he eyed the backsides of the hogs which lined the top of the bank along the edge of the ditch. These were packed together so tightly that some hung over the side, struggling with their rear hooves in the mud to keep from sliding backwards into the ditch. From time to time one of these would loose their hold and slide struggling down the bank into the hogs massed below, who welcomed the new arrival with indignant butts of the head and gores of the tusks. Leonard assessed this situation with the cold and calculating objectivity of an expert.
"We'll never make it," Bort said, casting a glance at the ditch behind them with a hopeful eye to making a timely retreat.
Leonard snorted and turned to his friend.
"Gimme that paper," he said and unceremoniously grabbed from Bort's neck pouch the formal complaint which they had prepared earlier. He held the paper up and waved it in the air. "Hey!" he shouted, "I got a formal grievance for the Magistrate...Let us through! We have got to see the Magistrate..."
The backsides of the hogs lined up along the bank stared down at them, mute and immobile. Bort, to whom a face-to-face encounter with the Magistrate was an alarming proposition under any circumstances, could think of nothing he desired less at this moment, in this setting. His urgent protests, however, seemed to have no effect upon his friend.
"Come on," Leonard said and began to butt his way vigorously through the mass of hogs in the ditch. Though far from eager to climb out and accost the Magistrate, Bort had no choice but to follow after the papers which bore his signature upon them. To the accompaniment of much grunting and cursing from the scowling crowd, the two began to make their way slowly over to the side. Some of the hogs began to move out of their way, grudgingly, in response to Leonard's shouted urgings, into which he now had begun to inject an inflammatory note:
"...they want to arrest you now for non-consensual assault!..." he cried with a touch of calculated hysteria, "...what'll it be next?..."
That a sympathetic chord was being struck by such ranting was evidenced by the generally supportive nature of the sullen, muttered remarks which now began to rise on all sides. Thus expedited, the two negotiated the remainder of their journey to the bank with little difficulty. Leonard looked up with a frown at the wall of warthog flesh massed impenetrably along the top.
"Hey!" he shouted, "Get those hogs out of the way! Make way up there! We got to see the Magistrate...it'll be your son that's locked up next, if they start arresting law-abiding hogs for non-consensual assault! Make way..."
After a large number of similar slogans were shouted, a couple of hogs managed to get turned around and face them.
"What've you got there?" one, an enormous sow, asked.
"Grievance against the locking up of this hog's son on false charges," Leonard said, gesturing to his friend.
Now all eyes turned upon Bort, and he found himself the unwilling center of attention and protagonist in a drama which began to unfold with a life all of its own. In the avenue above, the hogs, who crowded around the official party, began to show signs of a growing awareness of his problem. "Non-consensual assault? They can't do that!...what's next?..." and other, similar such comments could be distinguished among the general murmur of the crowd's voice.
Leonard backed off and charged energetically up the greasy bank. At the top he promptly butted a hole in the crowd and motioned to Bort, who had no choice but to follow him. Now the crowd began to give the two new arrivals its full attention. As they started towards the Magistrate, a not quite intelligible chanting arose, and those nearest to the official party took the first tentative jabs with their tusks at the Router escort.
It was at this point that we earlier left our official party, who it will be remembered were on the verge of departing Hawg City. Now, seeing the crowd begin to attack their escort, Percy turned in alarm to the Magistrate.
"What is this? What now?" he asked incredulously.
The Magistrate only shook his head slowly. Meanwhile, at the first signs that a warthog rout threatened, Captain Campbell had gone to get reinforcements. Grits Hamby, eyeing the growing disorder, backed warily into the vestibule of the jail, leaving only his head exposed; and the Matron was looking with uneasy apprehensiveness in the direction in which Campbell had disappeared. Frequent shouts of "...let 'em through!...non-consensual assault..." were heard now. The Magistrate narrowed his eyes as he recognized a diminutive boar making his way slowly through the crowd. The subdued and uncertain step with which our boar approached was striking in its incongruity amidst the strident shouts and violence. Leonard, once he had set the crowd in motion, had stepped aside to admire his work. "Carry it up there and shove it under his snout!" he had shouted to the immense pleasure of those around him as he thrust the papers into his friend's neck pouch. All eyes were on Bort as he plodded with a miserable and forlorn fatalism towards the Magistrate, who momentarily forgot his fear in his surprised recognition of the identity of the principal cause of the disturbance.
"This idiot!" he sneered, turning to Madame DeKooncey. "Hah! We'll make short work of him!"
"Yet, these others are worrisome," the Matron said.
"Rabble!" the Magistrate growled, but his eyes reflected a deep concern.
The citizens of Hawg City, it should be evident by now, were easily excitable. It should be added that the great majority of those in the street in this section of the city were generally uneducated and uninformed of current events, including those proceedings which passed that morning in Warthog Court and which were soon to be universally recognized–much to the chagrin of the Seventh Juridical–as constituting a landmark case. The content, therefore, the real meaning of Leonard's shouted slogans, was irrelevant; any similar, inflammatory words would have served as well to stir this crowd to action. Bort himself was at a loss to explain or justify his sudden preeminence. Now, however, with all eyes upon him he felt upon his back the crushing weight of the crowd's expectations and the impossibility--not to mention the danger--of denying them. The disorder and violence of the crowd were growing exponentially now, and the tentative assaults upon the escorts had escalated into a full blown brawl. The Routers faced the crowd, blood dripping from their tusks as well as running from numerous wounds inflicted by their assailants, whom, thus far, despite their greater numbers, the Routers were experiencing little difficulty in repelling.
Inside the circle of escorts our official party had assumed a posture of readiness in case the crowd were to break through. Although Percy was entirely confident of his ability to handle any contingencies which might arise, he did view the onslaught with some concern, nevertheless. The consequences of such an occurrence, moreover, were by no means clear, since an assault upon the Monarch even by these rabble would have been unprecedented. The armadillos had disburdened themselves of their charges and were now facing the crowd with grim determination. The Sergeant Major glared fiercely and advised an all out attack to disperse "this trash"; and Boston, forgetting for the moment his hurt pride, considered their predicament with a forehead so creased by anxiety and worry that Percy found it necessary to admonish him to "lighten up". Even Egbert rose to the occasion and faced the crowd with a firm and confident show of military resolve.
"Haarumph!" grunted Honorashious, twitching his feather tufts in agitation. "An outrageous display of hooliganism!"
The owl's assessment was lost, however, on the Hawg City officialdom standing below, who had other matters to deal with. For now the crowd was turning their attention to these individuals. As the hogs pressed closer with angry shouts, including many remarks explicitly disrespectful of the Magistrate, these officials glanced with apprehension after the way Campbell had disappeared for reinforcements. Grits, seeing no signs that help was imminent, snorted, turned tail, and retreated far inside the prison.
"Well," Madame DeKooncey said, taking a deep breath. "We mus
t face these down!"
The Magistrate, Madame DeKooncey, and Horace Picot presented a united front to the riotous hogs, who now had approached as closely as they could without actually ascending the stoop. The crowd parted and allowed our boar to step through. An apprehensive hush fell over the avenue in anticipation of the meeting, and the participants in the fight with the escort paused. Bort Swinson stepped forward and with a false show of spirit thrust the papers of his grievance at the Magistrate.
"What's this?" the Magistrate said, eyeing our boar with contempt.
"I'll take those," Horace Picot said, stepping smartly between them and grabbing the papers.
"Hey! That's for the Magistrate!" someone shouted. It was Leonard, who was standing at a safe remove behind our boar yet close enough to monitor events. From the crowd an ominous murmur rose and then subsided.
"A grievance, sir," Bort said lifting his snout in a dignified, yet unsuccessful, attempt to appear confident.
"A grievance?" the Magistrate said, looking at the lawyer. "Horace?"
"That's what it says all right," the lawyer said with a wry smirk. Holding up the paper, he read: "Mr. Bort Swinson desires immediate and just compensation for the false, and illegal, arrest of his son on charges of non-consensual assault--" the barrister paused to allow a murmur of support to rise and fall, "--and reimbursement for subsequent charges levied by the Magistrate of Hawg City," he finished.
The crowd cheered, fairly roared, their approval. When they had quieted, Horace narrowed his eyes with low cunning and looked sharply at our boar.
"This was the hog hopper, wasn't it?" he said.
An audible gasp escaped from the crowd at the mention of this news. Now, these hogs exhibited another interesting facet of the many-sided mob psychology. For, like all crowds, this one was as fickle as it was volatile and could easily crucify one whom only an instant before it had exalted. Thus, the clever words of the barrister were followed immediately by a rabble of discussions, spurious debates each with their closest neighbors, all tending to a common agreement, none deriving from any but the most primitive of emotions. These in turn quickly and decisively metamorphosed into a general feeling of ill will directed towards our boar, which led to comments, shouted epithets, and, finally, some vehement expressions of physical mal intent towards his self.
Leonard viewed this sudden distressful turn of events with the seasoned eye of a battlefield general. Sweeping the crowd with a penetrating gaze of calculation, he quickly decided that under the circumstances an orderly retreat would be the best that could be obtained. By now, however, the surly crowd had closed in around our boar, and he had already received several tentative thrusts of tusks in his flank and side, from which blood now leaked. With a panicked squeal our poor boar wiggled and jumped. Leonard--who, as it turned out, was no coward--started forth to his aid, but at that instant found himself enveloped in a sudden surge of the crowd, from whose bone-crushing embrace he was helpless to escape.
"Finally!" Madame DeKooncey ejaculated with breathless satisfaction. "It's about time!"
A palpable tension had swept the crowd, providing the impulse for this surge. The cause could be discerned at the far edge of the activity, beyond the escort of our party. Here, Captain Campbell had arrived at the head of a significant party of belligerent Routers, whom he had been able to round up only with the greatest difficulty due to the fact that they were just then going off duty for the day. In the end only the direst threats of punishment under the law had been sufficient to persuade them. Now that they were in motion, however, they grinned in malicious and eager anticipation of the coming route. Reaching the crowd, they had bored into it without warning, goring and heaving hogs to right and left.
"Haarumph!" Honorashious grunted excitedly and shook each of his massive claws in turn. "The situation--haarumph--deteriorates--haarumph!"
Inside the circle of escorts, Percy, who had been observing the meeting of our boar and the Magistrate, now turned his attention back to the mob in which they were embedded. The hogs apparently had lost their previous desire to engage the escort and now become possessed by a new preoccupation to flee Campbell's Routers.
"Hah! A mindless organism indeed!" Percy said grimly. "Sergeant Major!"
"Aye, Perceival Theodilious!"
"Remount the armadillos and make ready to depart--we'll do no good to stay here longer."
"Aye, yer highness!"
The leader of the escorts turned to his troops and barked an order, bringing them around to the fore. All were in a high state of readiness to depart. Percy turned to the owl, who was still watching our boar. Remarking an expression of extreme agitation in the bird's normally impassive features, the lion allowed his eyes to go to the object of his fascination.
Here, our boar was nearly buried in the mass of hogs, blood streaming from his flanks and his snout. As the lion watched, the mob, driven wild with fear and panic, turned upon itself and each gored and butted his neighbor with the tormented abandon of fiends.
"An insipid devolution," he muttered with a shiver. "Owl!' he shouted with an unnatural gruffness. "We go!"
Honorashious grunted and shook his wings. Still watching the scene below, he leaned forward and launched from his perch, swooped once over the crowd to gain lift, and on slowly beating wings he rose above the avenue, the prison complex, the Magistrate, Madame DeKooncey, and climbed in widening circles into the sky.
The official party moved out. As they lurched forward, Boston turned and gave the scene a last look. Grits Hamby had reappeared and was standing on the stoop with the others now, all of them absorbed in the chaos in the avenue. The Routers were pushing the hogs, squealing and screaming, into the ditch, piling one on top of the other as it filled. The bear thought he glimpsed our boar's bloody snout emerge one last time just above the mass of warthog flesh, then subside and disappear. And on the stoop Madame DeKooncey, taking note that they were leaving and in spite of her preoccupation with the task at hand, had the presence of mind to give a small wave of the hoof and a slight smile.
38. A Reconciliation and Final Parting
Night had truly fallen by the time our party extricated themselves from the precincts of Hawg City. The surly Routers had stayed with them beyond the city proper, leading them on through the bare dirt ring and far into the savannah. On the strict orders of Captain Campbell they were to escort their charges to a point beyond which further encounters with warthogs would be most unlikely. And our party, even though they were certain that they could find the way on their own, were more than happy at this point to rely on the Routers to guide them through the bewildering complexity of paths with which the polluted savannah was interlaced. They traveled in silence, the only sounds the sucking ones that the escorts' hooves made in the muck and the occasional grunts and snorts which were natural to warthogs.
Our party meditated each upon his own thoughts concerning the disastrous events of their sojourn in the city. As it turned out, their greatest fear--that of a lengthy delay--had largely been avoided; all told they had lost no more than a day and a half in their dealings with the warthogs. Their involvement, however, had far exceeded the mere entanglement in litigation which they had so feared. The actual arrest and punishment of members of the party had been unexpected and, in its demoralizing effect, far more serious than any delay; it had violated the very integrity of the group.
Boston in particular felt ally and profoundly their betrayal by the lion and the owl. The excruciating and humiliating ordeal of the Modifier was still uppermost in his mind. Clearly, the lion and the owl considered all his selfless efforts in behalf of maintaining order in the jungle, duties for which the lion and the owl in their official capacities were expressly accountable, of little worth. It was true that the bear held no official title; yet, in looking out for the best interests of the jungle he had saved the reign of the disinterested Percy from total catastrophe, and he had always assumed that his efforts were noted. Now it seemed that he could have save
d himself the trouble. The anguish and the bother of his entanglement in every dispute and al problem of all of the animals of the jungle were unappreciated, and he could have, and should have, devoted his time more profitably to those happier pursuits to which his psyche was naturally predisposed. Friendship, too, counted for little it would seem. Over the many years during which he had known Honorashious he had come to consider the owl a close al friend as well as a sort of mentor. Now, he could come to no other conclusion than that these feelings were unwarranted. The owl and the lion both, it was evident, considered him of no greater importance than mere armadillos and squirrels.
As for these last, the complexion of their thoughts was of a somewhat different cast from that of the bear. The armadillos, soldiers that they were, had accepted the sequence of events with that philosophical bent of mind found only in those accustomed to the exigencies of combat. Appearances were unimportant. Orders were not always fair nor should they be. Indeed, the armadillos took great pride in their performance under the duress of the Modifier. As for the indignities of imprisonment and display before the rabble, they suffered from no such finer sensitivities as the bear. Now, as they trudged in the dark through the savannah, the muck scraping their bellies and the full burden of riders and pack weighing on their backs, their thoughts tended more to a recurrence of that general surly dissatisfaction with their role in the party than to the occurrences in Hawg City, which they viewed rather favorably than otherwise.
Egbert, too, though deeply affected, had put the incidents in Hawg City behind him. His thoughts turned now to the task at hand, to the Hollowed Tree, and to the all encompassing problem of finding the lost boy.
Such were the thoughts on the one side of the breach in our band. On the other, sadly to say, the condition of the punished parties was given short shrift, the offended sensibilities of the bear largely ignored. Percy had read the bear's state of mind accurately in the moments before they had got underway and so had expediently put the Sergeant Major in the lead. Though he valued Boston's talents--valued them more than he would perhaps admit even to himself--he relied on the bear's naturally forgiving nature to overcome any feelings of resentment and gave it no more thought. And Honorashious, concerned rather more with the state of his professional reputation after being bested by the warthogs in litigation, had few thoughts to bestow upon the bear and the others that were not self-oriented. Only the Sergeant Major viewed the plight of the ex-convicts with anything like sympathy. Although he scorned any shirking from what he saw as the group's bound duty each and every one of them to make whatever sacrifices were required for the greater good of obtaining their objective, and even though he had been ally offended by the disgraceful spectacle presented by Egbert under the Modifier, the sparrow's calculus of honor and glory now that those sacrifices had been made revealed an inequality.
The Hollowed Tree Page 24