~ CHAPTER TWO
I.
Back in the Slig camp, the last of them were finally climbing out of bed, blinking blearily. The guards who had been up all night shuffled themselves into their tents, where they promptly collapsed.
"Aah," said one of the risers, rubbing his head. "Another day, huh? I'd kinda hoped I'd die durin' the night."
"Quit complainin'," choked an older Slig, with a voice like a rattly exhaust pipe. "Nobody made yer wake up, did they?"
The complainant couldn't think of a good reply to this, so he addressed a very short Slig who was passing instead. "Hey Pudzy, what's up?"
Pudzy thought about this. "Uh, I dunno, Jukker. But I sure hope it's breakfast!"
Jukker nodded, but the old Slig groaned. "Breakfast? You fellas want breakfast, you gotta go cetch it. We're almost outta supplies, amember?"
"Aw dang!" said Pudzy. "We must have a coupla Scrab Cakes left."
"If they are, we won't be gettin' any of 'em," the old Slig muttered.
"We might not be given any," said Pudzy, and the other two looked at him, because it didn't seem a normal kind of thing to say.
"Jes' what d'you mean by thet?" asked the old one.
"We could always steal 'em is what I'm sayin'," Pudzy grinned.
The old Slig rolled his eyes. "Y'think I didn't think o' thet?"
"If you aggonised it, it would be failure!" said Pudzy. "I, however, have a plan. Sligmates, listen to this..."
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