Someone removed the hood that had hidden Aidan’s face. He stood blinking in the afternoon sun; the glare made his aching head pound even harder. When his eyes focused he could see he was standing at the center of a semicircle of feechiefolk. There were at least a hundred of them. Their pinched, gray faces were contorted in various attitudes of curiosity, hostility, and fear. Some fixed Aidan with threatening stares, baring what few teeth they had like mean dogs. The wee-feechies covered their faces with their hands and peeked out at Aidan between their fingers. Most of the tribesmen, though, gaped open-mouthed at the strange creature brought to their Meeting Hummock. Those in the back craned their necks for a better view or tried to push toward the front row. All their lives they had heard about civilizers; even the tiniest wee-feechies knew to fear them. But except for the scouts and the elders, most of them had never actually seen one.
The feechies were small people. The full-grown hefeechies were barely taller than Aidan, though their turtle-shell helmets added a couple of inches to their height. They were all lean and sinewy, even the youngest wee-feechies. They all had the same gray skin as Dobro. Their hair was thick and coarse, of various colors, but they all had roughly the same haircut: short and jagged across the front, longer in the back, and lumpy all over.
Most of the feechies wore reptile skins. The adult hefeechies went bare-chested and wore snakeskin kilts and turtle-shell helmets. She-feechies and youths of both sexes wore tunics fashioned from alligator skins. Weefeechies wore little loincloths made from possum or muskrat hides. All were barefoot.
Many of the feechiefolk wore various other adornments that betokened their hunting skill: bear-claw necklaces, egret-plume headdresses, boar-tusk bracelets. A few wore capes made from wolf hides or bobcat skins. One youth in the front row appeared to be wearing a panther hide. He was a surly fellow who never even raised his head to look at Aidan.
For several seconds, Aidan and the feechiefolk stared at one another without speaking a word. Two he-feechies stood beside him, one holding each elbow. They were Jonko and Rabbo, Aidan’s captors, and he was glad to have them, for it is no easy matter to stand with bound ankles.
An elderly feechie came out of the crowd and walked toward Aidan. He was a bent and toothless old thing, but many years’ rough wisdom shone from his one good eye. He was Gergo Snagroot, chieftain of this band of feechies. He looked Aidan over from head to toe and back up again, then turned to address the assembled feechies.
He pointed at Aidan. “In case some of you didn’t know it already, this here is a civilizer.”
One of the wee-feechies, her eyes wide with terror, bolted away and ran screaming into the woods. The other wee-feechies weren’t quite so terrified, but they were confused. They had been under the impression that civilizers—if such things even existed—were some sort of monster. But this so-called civilizer didn’t look all that different from a feechie, only a little paler and softer, and dressed funny.
“Ain’t he kind of little for a civilizer?” asked a squint-eyed she-feechie in the third row.
“He ain’t got its full growth yet, but he’s a civilizer, all right,” answered Chief Gergo. “And we got to figure out what to do with him.”
“Boil him,” someone suggested.
“Drown him,” offered a young feechie in a beaver-skin cap.
“Throw him out a pine tree.”
“Feed him to a alligator.”
The crowd was growing more enthusiastic as they warmed to their subject. Aidan suspected that the only thing keeping the mob from doing him some awful violence was the fact that they couldn’t agree on which awful violence to do.
At last Chief Gergo raised a three-fingered hand to silence the crowd. “Hold on, hold on, hold on!” he squeaked. “We ain’t doing anything to this civilizer until I say what we’re doing to him. And I ain’t saying until we’ve had some more confabulation.”
He turned toward Rabbo and Jonko. “Jonko Backwater and Rabbo Flatbottom is the ones what caught him. And I reckon they ought to tell us how it happened.”
“Well,” began Rabbo, “me and Jonko got a hankering for some gopher, so we was ranging around on the sand hills. Jonko’s poking around in a gopher hole, and I’m looking for another one, when I see this little civilizer coming out of the creek bottom, making straight for us.”
“There ain’t no civilizer road around them sand hills,” interrupted one of the feechies in the crowd.
“That’s what I know, Verno. That’s why we was so surprised. Anyway, I give Jonko the skeedaddle signal, and we make for a jumble of magnolia trees and scoot up.”
“We didn’t want no civilizer trouble,” explained Jonko.
“Well, the civilizer starts trooping up the sand hill,” continued Rabbo, “and where do you reckon he decides to flop down and rest?”
“By my magnolia tree, that’s where!” answered Jonko. “I stayed as still as I could, but magnolia leaves is so rattlesome, can’t nobody keep quiet in a magnolia tree. I reckon the civilizer heard me, ’cause he starts doing everything he can to see what’s in the treetop.” Jonko mimicked the way Aidan circled and ducked and craned to get a glimpse of him.
“I could see that hiding wasn’t working out,” Jonko continued. “So I decided I’d scare him off.”
Rabbo laughed as he remembered. “Jonko cut loose with the loudest, scariest watch-out bark I ever heard.” He threw back his head in imitation: “Ha-ha-ha-hrawffff-wooooooooo … Ha-ha-ha-hrawffff-wooooooooo. There ain’t never been a civilizer wouldn’t run home crying when he heard something like that.”
“Except this one,” said Jonko, pointing a thumb at Aidan. “He answers back with a watch-out bark of his own.”
Rabbo was getting more excited as he relived the scene. “Then he cuts loose with a feechie battle yell!”
“A battle yell!” exclaimed Chief Gergo. “How would a little civilizer know the feechie battle yell?”
“I don’t know, Chief,” answered Jonko, “but Rabbo and me both heard it.”
Aidan would be glad to tell them everything if only they would untie the vine gag, which was making his jaws ache. He would tell them all about Dobro and their encounter in the bottom pasture. But none of the feechies seemed interested in what Aidan had to say. Everyone just eyed him quizzically. Everyone except for the young feechie in the panther cape. He only pulled the hood down farther over his face.
“You not going to believe what happened next,” Jonko continued. “This civilizer starts climbing the tree like he wants to get at me.”
“When I seen that,” said Rabbo, “I give a watch-out bark of my own. And when the civilizer turned in my direction, Jonko swung down and give him a whole mouthful of feechie foot.”
“He done the prettiest back-over flip you ever seen,” said Jonko. “He was still knocked out when we tied him up and carried him off on the pole. We gagged him with vines so he couldn’t holler for more civilizers, though I don’t reckon there would be any civilizers to holler for, that far off the road.”
Chief Gergo whistled. “Sounds like you was just defending yourselves. It also sounds like you wasn’t the first feechiefolks this civilizer had ever seen. Anything else he said or did before you knocked him out?”
“Well,” Jonko began, “he did say something, but I couldn’t make no sense out of it. I don’t speak civilizer talk.”
“What was it, then?” pressed Gergo.
“When he was climbing up the tree, he kept hollering, ‘Dodo,’ and I think he said something about looking for a mudfish.”
“Naw, that ain’t it,” interrupted Rabbo. “He didn’t say nothing about no dodo. It sounded more like ‘Toe Gro!’”
Jonko was irritated. “I know what I heard, Rabbo. He was saying, ‘Toad Row.’”
Rabbo put his hands on his hips and sneered at Jonko. “That don’t make no kind of sense, Jonko. He was saying, ‘Go, Foe.’ No doubt about it.” The two feechies were chest to chest now, each ready to fight for his own misinterp
retation of what Aidan had said. If they would only unbind me and let me speak for myself, I would happily clear things up, Aidan thought. He could tell them that he wasn’t saying “Dodo” or “Go Foe” and certainly not “Toad Row” but “Dobro.”
There was another person in the crowd who could have guessed what Aidan was saying when he climbed the magnolia tree: the boy in the panther cape, who now was hiding his face completely. He was Dobro Turtlebane, and he was terrified of what might happen next … to himself, to Aidan, or to both of them.
Rabbo and Jonko were now dancing circles around each other, glaring and raising their fists.
“I’m gonna jump down your throat and stomp your gizzard!” Rabbo threatened.
“I wish you’d try,” answered Jonko. “It’s nothing to me to swallow a man whole.”
Feechies love few things better than a fistfight. The prospect of Rabbo and Jonko coming to blows made them forget completely about the defenseless civilizer who stood between them, gagged and bound hand and foot. The whole mob pressed closer to get a better look at the two combatants—everyone except Dobro. He moved against the pulsing tide of feechiefolk, trying to get to the back of the crowd where he would be less conspicuous.
But it was hard to be inconspicuous in the press of a crowd. Trying to pick a hole to push through, he stood right in front of Odo Watersnake. “Move it, Dobro!” shouted Odo. “I can’t see!”
In his haste to get out of Odo’s way, Dobro stepped squarely on Theto Elbogator’s bare foot. “Yow, Dobro!” Theto yelled, and he pushed him into Benno Frogger.
“Stop it, Dobro!” yelped Benno, giving Dobro a push that sent him sprawling into the middle of the crowd, the tail of his panther cape flying behind him. He bowled over four she-feechies and three wee-feechies. Everyone’s attention shifted from Jonko and Rabbo to Dobro. “Dobro!” the crowd scolded, as if with a single voice.
Jonko and Rabbo dropped their fists and stared, first at one another, then at Dobro. “Dobro!” they both shouted.
The crowd looked back at them. “That’s what the civilizer was saying,” Jonko nearly shouted, pointing excitedly at Dobro. “He was saying, ‘Dobro! Dobro! Dobro!’”
Chapter Fourteen
A Verdict
Someone pushed Dobro from behind, and he stumbled into the open space where Jonko, Rabbo, and Aidan were standing. A she-feechie was right behind him. She looked exactly like Dobro—an older, female version of Dobro. She was his mother, Luku Turtlebane. “Dobro!” her shrill voice silenced the noise of the crowd. “Dobro Turtlebane! How come this civilizer knows your name?”
Dobro stood frozen, not sure what to do or say.
Mrs. Turtlebane grabbed Dobro’s ear and began to twist it. “All right, all right, all right,” Dobro squealed, pulling loose from his mother’s grip. “I know this civilizer. His name’s Aidan of the Tam.” He paused and rubbed his sore ear. “Yeah, I know him, and I ain’t sorry about it neither.”
“What you mean, boy?” demanded Dobro’s mother. She made another grab for his ear, but he eluded her. “You better explain yourself.”
“This civilizer saved my life.”
A gasp went up from the crowd. Mrs. Turtlebane’s hands were on her hips. “Saved your life from what, boy?”
“From a panther.” He gestured toward the panther hide he wore for a cape. “From this here panther.”
“You told me you kilt that panther your own self.”
Dobro looked down at his feet. “Mama, that ain’t the truest tale I ever told.” He looked over at Aidan as he remembered what happened. “I was getting chased by this panther—and he was bearing down on me pretty good—when Aidan kilt him with a rock.”
“A rock?” snorted Rabbo. “You can’t kill a panther with a rock.”
“Aidan can,” answered Dobro, smiling toward his civilizer friend. “He’s got a rock slinger. He’s pretty handy with it too.”
Mrs. Turtlebane stared at Dobro, trying to decide how much of his story to believe. Then she stared at Aidan and back at Dobro. Finally, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and raised her chin in a posture of firmness. The crowd grew perfectly quiet as Mrs. Turtlebane stalked toward Aidan. Her eyes were fierce with a mother’s protective instincts.
Aidan was terrified. His hands and feet were still bound, so he could neither run away nor defend himself. And gagged as he was, he couldn’t even beg for mercy. He steeled himself to receive whatever punishment this fierce she-feechie had in mind for the civilizer who had corrupted her son.
Dobro’s mother stood directly in front of Aidan, that strange light still in her eyes. Looking intently at the civilizer, she reached her right hand toward Rabbo. “Give me your knife, Rabbo.”
Rabbo hesitated. He didn’t want to see the civilizer killed without a proper trial. But Mrs. Turtlebane kept her hand outstretched. The intensity of her mother-love finally bent Rabbo’s will to her own, and he handed over the stone knife.
Mrs. Turtlebane pointed the blade in Aidan’s face, three inches from his chin. Aidan did his best to breathe evenly and not to whimper; he was the only civilizer these people had ever seen, and he didn’t want to give the impression that civilizers were a tribe of whiners or cowards. “I don’t want no civilizers around my boy,” she said, sneering at the prisoner.
Mrs. Turtlebane made a quick upward thrust with the stone knife. Aidan closed his eyes and offered up a quick prayer, sorrowful that his life was ending so early and so suddenly. He felt no pain. But on the other hand, he didn’t feel dead either. Opening one eye, he saw the vine gag lying on the ground, cut in two. Opening the other, he stared at the she-feechie sawing away at the vines that bound his hands.
“I don’t want no civilizers around my boy!” Mrs. Turtlebane repeated. Then she broke into a greenish grin. “But for them what saves his life, I can make an exception.”
She went to work on the vines that bound his feet. When she had gotten him free, Mrs. Turtlebane fell on Aidan with a hug so fierce it nearly squeezed the breath out of him.
The terrible she-feechie was now sobbing. “Hawww, hawww, hawww! You saved my Dobro. Hawwww, hawww, hawww. Bless your head and liver. Hawww, hawww, hawww. You rescued my sweet Maypop from that bad old panther.” She planted kisses on both of Aidan’s cheeks, two on his forehead, and one on top of his head just to make sure. Aidan shrank from her prickly chin whiskers and her fishy breath, but he had to admit that his situation had greatly improved in a few short minutes.
But Aidan’s ordeal was far from over, as he realized when Chief Gergo stepped forth again. The old feechie chief was ready to pronounce his verdict on the prisoner.
“The feechiefolks only got one defense against the civilizers, and it’s this: The civilizers don’t believe we exist. If they did, they would civilize us right off of this island.”
“You said something there,” came a voice from the crowd.
“Down with civilizers,” shouted a second voice.
“Feechies forever!” whooped a third.
Ignoring the crowd, Gergo pressed on. “That’s why the feechie code says that no civilizer can see a feechie and live. Dobro Turtlebane, when you showed yourself to this civilizer, you put a death sentence on his head.” Aidan turned pale. Cheers rose up from some of the feechies in the mob.
“Let’s roast him!” suggested someone in the crowd.
“Feed him to the fire ants,” offered another.
Aidan felt the breath go out of him. Mrs. Turtlebane clutched Aidan tighter in her protective arms. Dobro was sobbing now.
“But,” said Gergo. “But,” he repeated more loudly, silencing the unruly crowd, “there’s another law in the feechie code. It says that nobody who saves a feechie’s life should die by a feechie’s hand. That’s one law I don’t aim to break today. Aidan, you gonna live.” Aidan’s knees felt weak from relief.
“And what’s more,” continued the feechie chief, “as the chieftain of this band of feechies, I declare Aidan of the Tam to be a feech
iefriend, for the gumption he showed rescuing Dobro Turtlebane from a panther. Tonight, we’ll have a feechie feast to make it official.”
The crowd erupted in loud hoots and barks of approval. Aidan wasn’t sure if they were cheering because his life had been spared, or if they were only happy at the news of a feechie feast. Some of the feechies hooting the loudest now were the same ones cheering when it looked as if he would be put to death. It would be a long time yet before Aidan really understood anything about the feechiefolk.
Chapter Fifteen
A Fishing Trip
The feechies scattered to make ready for that night’s feast. Some went to collect berries and fruit, others in search of roots and grubs. Fishing parties were hastily organized and dispatched to the choicest fishing holes in the swamp. The wee-feechies dispersed to gather forest flowers with which to decorate the Meeting Hummock.
Soon only Aidan and Dobro remained in the meeting spot. Dobro wasn’t the same brash, blustering fellow Aidan had first met in the bottom pasture. Aidan could tell he was struggling for words. At last Dobro spoke. “Aidan, I never meant to cause you no trouble.”
Aidan smiled at his feechie friend. “Maybe a little trouble is just the thing I need, Dobro,” he answered. “Civilizer life can get pretty boring. On the other hand, getting boiled or roasted or fed to alligators—that might be a little more trouble than anybody needs. I’m mighty glad you were here to get me out of that mess.”
“I didn’t do right, Aidan.”
“What are you talking about? You saved my life!”
“That may be, but my first thought was to run away from a whupping. What you reckon would have happened to you if I really had run away?”
“You wouldn’t have really run away.”
“How do you know that?” asked Dobro.
“You got what it takes, Dobro,” said Aidan, grinning. “Even if you are a feechie.”
The Bark of the Bog Owl Page 9