[enchilado]

II.

"Say what?" said the old Slig, after Pudzy had finished. "That's not even a plan, Pudzy, jes' who d'you think yer kiddin' azackly?"

"It might sound dumb," said Pudzy, "but so's the General, ain't he? He never even comes outta that house o' his!"

"You call that dumb?" asked Jukker.

There was a pause, then Pudzy went on, "Well, if he don't come outta there, he ain't gonna catch us, is he? Now be quiet and act nonshalanty!"

"Huh, I guess it's worth a try," said the old Slig, and he wandered off, looking the sky and overacting an air of innocence.

The other two Sligs, however, thought he did a good job of it, and Jukker mimicked him as he left in the opposite direction. Pudzy watched them go. "Okay!" he said to himself. "Everythin's gonna be fine! You'll be fine, Pudzy. Everythin' will be just fine."

He went behind the tent, and slowly crept along behind the row of tents, until he was near as he could be to the large one which housed the supplies. Two tough favourites of the General stood guard, their expressionless masks somehow telling the watcher that nobody, not nobody was gonna get past them in a hurry.

Pudzy crouched down to wait. It wouldn't be long; they'd agreed to put their plan into action immediately. And, indeed, after just a few short minutes, there came a great shouting from Jukker. "AAAAAAH!"

And then the old Slig came into view, running at top speed into the centre of the camp. "Everybody!" he yelled. "Quick! That Jukker kid's bein' attacked by a wild Mudokon out there!"

Sligs throughout the camp stared at him.

"There's a moun'ain of 'em!" said the old Slig.

Suddenly everyone, including the two tough guards, was rushing out of the camp, following him. He kept shouting: "This way! C'mon all o' ya, it's over here!"

Pudzy grinned to himself. The old guy sure was a brilliant actor! He hurried over to the tent and snuck inside.

Crates of food! Not enough to last the whole camp more than a couple of days, but just one crate would keep the three of them going for months. However, one crate was too much to carry, so he pulled out the sleeping-bag he'd stolen from another tent and began piling it full of food.

This was great! What a feast they'd have! Pudzy almost laughed at his own intelligence.

Once the sack was full, he swung it up over his shoulder and staggered out of the tent. Still no one in sight - good! He crept quietly toward the camp's West entrance, and was about to step outside when he heard something that at first he did not quite take in.

A blood-curdling warcry of a native Mudokon.