The Bark of the Bog Owl (10 page)

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 feechiefriend, 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.

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.”

For the first time since Aidan had arrived at the Meeting Hummock, a smile covered Dobro’s face. He clamped Aidan in a headlock and flipped him into a mayhaw tree, just to show how much he appreciated his kind words.

“Say,” said Dobro, as he helped Aidan back down, “how ’bout we find one of them fishing parties? I believe some fishing would do me good.”

Aidan agreed, and the two boys headed for the main creek bed. The dry ground of the hummock soon ran out, and Aidan found himself slogging through the very swamp he was trying to avoid when he first fell in with Jonko and Rabbo. Soon the sound of exuberant whooping echoed through the cypress trees.

“Sounds like Doyno and Branko,” said Dobro, slowing down to listen. “They must be over at Mussel Bend. They’re the best fishermen you ever gonna meet. If there’s a catfish left in that creek, Doyno and Branko can find him.”

Dobro quickened his pace, energized by the whooping of the fishermen. “Are they going to have enough poles for us?” asked Aidan.

“What kind of poles?

“Fishing poles.”

“Naw, naw, naw. This is serious fishing. We ain’t got time for fishing poles—not when it’s nearbout time for the feast already.”

Aidan’s curiosity was aroused. What sort of fishing would be more serious than pole fishing?

“There they are!” announced Dobro pointing through the trees where the main channel ran. Aidan saw only one person where Dobro was pointing, a feechie youth about his age standing in water up to his chest. Suddenly, the water beside him exploded in a huge splash, and a second person emerged, holding a big gray catfish that reached halfway to his shoulder. Doyno and Branko resumed their victorious whooping.

“Where did that catfish come from?” Aidan asked, his mouth open with wonderment.

“He grabbled it.”

“He did what?”

“He grabbled it. He caught it with his hands.”

Aidan gave Dobro a sidelong look. Dobro explained. “Nearbout every stump, every fallen log, every abandoned muskrat hole in this swamp got a big catfish hiding in it or under it. And that catfish believes he’s the true and rightful owner of that spot. Any other fish—redbelly, bluegill, punkin seed, pike, bigmouth, bugle mouth, warmouth, garfish, jackfish, mudfish, shad, eel, anybody but a catfish—you come poking around their hole, they scoot off in a hurry.” He waggled his hand to simulate a fish’s hasty retreat. “But not Old Whiskers. He’d rather fight you. So when you wiggle your fingers in front of his face, he’s sure to grab aholt of you. Then you pull him out. Only he’s going to be trying to pull you in.”

Aidan stared in disbelief. “Have you ever done it?”

“Sure,” answered Dobro. “All the time.” He showed Aidan his forearm, scarred from the rasping jaws of many catfish.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” asked Aidan.

Dobro thought for a second. “Yeah,” he said with a chuckle, “I reckon it does.”

Another loud splash drew away Aidan’s attention. Branko had gone underwater. Half a minute later he broke the water’s surface again. In his right hand he gripped not another catfish but a cottonmouth snake. Its terrible white mouth was open so wide that it seemed to be folded inside out. The snake twisted and writhed, struggling to find something to sink its fangs into.
“Haaawwwweeee!”
whooped Branko.

“That’s another thing,” Dobro pointed out. “Sometimes them holes and stumps got cottonmouths. Snapping turtles too. That’s something you got to watch out for.”

Branko held the huge cottonmouth out where Doyno could get a good look at it. Then, to Aidan’s horror, Branko heaved the deadly snake onto his fishing partner. Doyno caught the snake like a hot potato and slung it into the woods in a single motion. Branko howled, laughing at his own joke. Doyno didn’t think it so funny to have a venomous snake thrown on him.

“You trying to kill me?” Doyno bellowed. “Put ’em up, Branko. I aim to feel your short ribs.”

Doyno shinned up a nearby cypress tree and dove down onto Branko’s back. The opponents whirled and splashed like a waterspout, lost to sight in a cascade of creek water. Dobro and Aidan jumped into the water and waded across to the place of combat.

“Hold on there, boys,” said Dobro, raising his voice above the noise of the battle. Branko and Doyno stopped where they were, surprised to hear another voice. Doyno
was holding Branko by the hair, about to dunk him under the water. “I hate to bust up your little frolic,” Dobro continued, “but I got somebody here ain’t never grabbled for catfish and wants to give it a try.”

Aidan gave a start. He wanted to do no such thing. “Oh, I don’t know,” he began. “I don’t think that’ll be—”

“Of course, sure, sure,” said Doyno, releasing Branko and wiping his hands on his tunic. “I know just the spot for a first-timer.”

He led Aidan and Dobro across to a fallen tree, the roots of which jutted out of the water. “They’s usually a big one lurking up in there,” he said, pointing to the tangle of roots. “Every time I pull one out, next day one just as big has took his place. Just poke around in there. You’ll find one.”

Aidan sidled over to the root tangle and pretended to feel around underwater. But his heart wasn’t in it. He had no desire to get bitten by a big catfish, and he certainly had no desire to get bitten by a snapping turtle or a cottonmouth.

“Naw, naw, naw,” coached Doyno. “You won’t never catch him that-a-way. You got to reach way down yonder. If you ain’t ducking all the way under, you ain’t reaching down deep enough.”

Doyno, it seemed, genuinely wanted Aidan to succeed. “Here,” he said, “I’ll go down there with you and show you where to look.”

Doyno dove underwater, and Aidan saw no choice but to go after him. In the murky water, he could see very little besides light and shadow and movement. But he could see enough to tell that Doyno was pointing with animated jabs toward a shadowy spot near the creek’s
sandy floor. Aidan halfheartedly stuck his hand in the gap where Doyno was directing. He didn’t wish to disappoint Doyno, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t try any harder than he had to.

Aidan had hardly gotten his hand in the hole when two bony jaws clamped down on his wrist. His hand was in the slimy innards of a creature big enough to swallow his hand whole! His first reaction was to snatch his hand away. But the creature wasn’t letting go. Aidan pulled and strained, but the jaws only tightened on his wrist. As the struggle continued, Aidan could feel himself getting dizzy; he had blown out all his air in the initial shock, and he was getting desperate for a breath. He willed himself to make one last tug, and he pulled loose.

When Aidan broke the surface of the water, his attacker was still latched onto his arm. It was the biggest catfish he had ever seen—a brownish, spotted monster with dull bluish eyes and whiskers as big around as Aidan’s little finger. The fish was as long as Branko’s cottonmouth and nearly as big around as Branko himself.

“Haawwweeee!”
whooped the feechies exultantly.

“I ain’t never seen a first-timer do that!” yelled Doyno. “This here civilizer’s got what it takes!” He was thrilled with his student’s success and secretly felt that he deserved at least some of the credit himself.

Aidan thought they were giving him too much credit. It was the catfish, after all, that had caught him, not the other way around. Nevertheless, the four fishermen, three feechies and a civilizer, marched their catch triumphantly to the Meeting Hummock, where the festivities were just getting started.