dancing into the wilderness to hugger-mugger with the rocks and trees, and to have Adventures—”
“Just like Firefoot!” squeaked Pouncequick.
“Hush!” hissed Fritti.
“Well,” continued Eatbugs, “one day, when the sun was high in the sky and hurt his eyes, Redlegs came upon two giant piles of bones lying on either side of his path at the mouth of the valley. He knew that he was at the gates of Barbarbar, the City of the Dogs. Growlers and Folk had no quarrel at this time, and Redlegs was anyway a prince of his people, so he entered into the valley.
“Around him he did spy every manner of Growler: tall and small, fat and flat; who leaped and bounded and barked, and dug holes, and carried bones hither and yon. But most of the bones were being carried to the pillars of the gate, where the yapping and yelping crews clambered up the piles and laid them on top. As the day wore on, the shinnying Growlers had more and more difficulty getting to the top—where they were trying, dry-nosed and gasping, to join the pillars into an arch.
“Finally, a huge and majestic mastiff appeared, barking commands; the Growlers jumped and gyrated in their efforts to please him, but at last nothing further could be done to join the pillars at the apex. Every leg-sprightly pup of the dog city was sent up to fill the last small gap—which was but one bonelength wide—but none could climb to the top of the curving pillars....”
Tailchaser had an unusual feeling. As he lay, eyes tightly shut, listening to Eatbugs’ song, he found that he could see the events in a way that he had never been able to at Meeting Wall. In his mind’s eye, he witnessed the leaning towers of bone, the efforts of the Growler-folk and their mastiff leader, as clearly as if he had been present. Why did he feel this way? He licked his foreleg and washed his face, concentrating on the old cat’s words.
“Now,” Eatbugs was saying, “in those days dogs had not become the lick-M‘an, drunk-slobber wretches we see today, but the Folk have always found them amusing—unless in direct battle, you see. So, as Redlegs watched the parade of frightened doglings shinnying up the gate arch, only to come cowering down in defeat a moment later, he could not help laughing.
“At the sound of this the huge mastiff turned in anger and gullet-growled: ‘Who are you that laughs so, cat?’
“Redlegs stilled his merriment, and said: ‘I am Redlegs, of the line of Harar.’
“The mastiff looked at him. ‘I am Rauro Bite-then-Bark, of these dogs the King. It is not meet or seemly that I should be mocked in this way!’ At this the dog-king puffed out his chest and goggled his eyes in such an important way that Redlegs almost laughed again.
“ ‘How long have you been building your gate, O King?’ he asked.
“ ‘Full three seasons it has been,’ replied Bite-then-Bark, ‘and we but lack one bone to make it complete.’
“ ‘So I see,’ said Redlegs, and suddenly he was of an inclination to play a trick on the puff-puddle-pompous King of the Dogs. ‘Your Majesty, if I can finish your gate for you, will you grant me one favor?’ he asked.
“ ‘What would that be?’ inquired the King suspiciously.
“ ‘If I can do your task, I would like a bone for my own.’
“The King, thinking of the thousands of bones that he held sway over, yapped with delight at the cheapness of the request and said: ‘You shall have any bone you desire in my kingdom, only you do this for me.’
“So Redlegs agreed, and, taking the last bone-piece of the gate in his mouth, climbed carefully and skillfully up the swaying arch. When he got to the top, he carefully pushed the final piece between the tips of the two curving towers, where it fit like the last scale Meerclar put on lizards. Then he walked down again while all the Growlers barked and harrumphed with pleasure to see their work completed, and their mighty gate standing finished.
“While all stared upward, ears
“Just like Firefoot!” squeaked Pouncequick.
“Hush!” hissed Fritti.
“Well,” continued Eatbugs, “one day, when the sun was high in the sky and hurt his eyes, Redlegs came upon two giant piles of bones lying on either side of his path at the mouth of the valley. He knew that he was at the gates of Barbarbar, the City of the Dogs. Growlers and Folk had no quarrel at this time, and Redlegs was anyway a prince of his people, so he entered into the valley.
“Around him he did spy every manner of Growler: tall and small, fat and flat; who leaped and bounded and barked, and dug holes, and carried bones hither and yon. But most of the bones were being carried to the pillars of the gate, where the yapping and yelping crews clambered up the piles and laid them on top. As the day wore on, the shinnying Growlers had more and more difficulty getting to the top—where they were trying, dry-nosed and gasping, to join the pillars into an arch.
“Finally, a huge and majestic mastiff appeared, barking commands; the Growlers jumped and gyrated in their efforts to please him, but at last nothing further could be done to join the pillars at the apex. Every leg-sprightly pup of the dog city was sent up to fill the last small gap—which was but one bonelength wide—but none could climb to the top of the curving pillars....”
Tailchaser had an unusual feeling. As he lay, eyes tightly shut, listening to Eatbugs’ song, he found that he could see the events in a way that he had never been able to at Meeting Wall. In his mind’s eye, he witnessed the leaning towers of bone, the efforts of the Growler-folk and their mastiff leader, as clearly as if he had been present. Why did he feel this way? He licked his foreleg and washed his face, concentrating on the old cat’s words.
“Now,” Eatbugs was saying, “in those days dogs had not become the lick-M‘an, drunk-slobber wretches we see today, but the Folk have always found them amusing—unless in direct battle, you see. So, as Redlegs watched the parade of frightened doglings shinnying up the gate arch, only to come cowering down in defeat a moment later, he could not help laughing.
“At the sound of this the huge mastiff turned in anger and gullet-growled: ‘Who are you that laughs so, cat?’
“Redlegs stilled his merriment, and said: ‘I am Redlegs, of the line of Harar.’
“The mastiff looked at him. ‘I am Rauro Bite-then-Bark, of these dogs the King. It is not meet or seemly that I should be mocked in this way!’ At this the dog-king puffed out his chest and goggled his eyes in such an important way that Redlegs almost laughed again.
“ ‘How long have you been building your gate, O King?’ he asked.
“ ‘Full three seasons it has been,’ replied Bite-then-Bark, ‘and we but lack one bone to make it complete.’
“ ‘So I see,’ said Redlegs, and suddenly he was of an inclination to play a trick on the puff-puddle-pompous King of the Dogs. ‘Your Majesty, if I can finish your gate for you, will you grant me one favor?’ he asked.
“ ‘What would that be?’ inquired the King suspiciously.
“ ‘If I can do your task, I would like a bone for my own.’
“The King, thinking of the thousands of bones that he held sway over, yapped with delight at the cheapness of the request and said: ‘You shall have any bone you desire in my kingdom, only you do this for me.’
“So Redlegs agreed, and, taking the last bone-piece of the gate in his mouth, climbed carefully and skillfully up the swaying arch. When he got to the top, he carefully pushed the final piece between the tips of the two curving towers, where it fit like the last scale Meerclar put on lizards. Then he walked down again while all the Growlers barked and harrumphed with pleasure to see their work completed, and their mighty gate standing finished.
“While all stared upward, ears
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