these.” He stared dumbly at the bottle he held. “Acetylsali-
cylic acid. Aspirin, plain old ordinary everyday aspirin.”
“Ah guess it ain’t so ordinary hereabouts,” said Roseroar.
“Now, mate,” said Mudge soothingly, ” ‘is wizardship
couldn’t ‘ave known you ‘ad some in your back pocket all
along, now could ‘e? It were a sad mistake, but an ‘onest
one.”
“You think so? Clothahump knows everything.’1
“Then why send us across ‘alf the world to find somethin’
‘e already ‘ad in ‘is ‘ouse?”
“To test me. To test my loyalty. He’s grooming me to
take his place someday if he can’t send me home, and he
has to make sure I’m up to the reputation he’s going to
leave behind. So he keeps testing me.”
“Are you tellin’ me, mate,” muttered Mudge carefully,
“that this ‘ole damn dangerous trip was unnecessary from
the beginnin’? That this ‘ere glorious quest could’ve been
left undone and we could’ve stayed comfy an’ warm back
in the Bellwoods, doin’ civilized work like gettin’ laid an’
drunk?”
Jon-Tom nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so.”
Mudge’s reaction was not what Jon-Tom expected. He
anticipated a replay of his own sudden fury, at least.
Instead, the otter clasped his hands to his belly, bent over,
and fell to the ground, where he commenced to roll wildly
about while laughing uncontrollably. A moment later Drom’s
own amused, high-pitched whinny filled the woods, while
Roseroar was unable to restrain her own more dignified but
just as heartfelt hysteria.
“What are you laughing about? You idiots, we nearly
got killed half a dozen times on this journey! So what are