"Aye, an' you've got to blinkin' well prove it, too!"
They turned to see two extremely fit-looking young hares lounging nearby, taking everything in.
"I'll give you young whelps something to think about if you don't move yourselves!" Brocktree growled.
The hares did move, not away, but closer. They were obviously twin brothers, alike as peas in a pod. They spoke alternately, beginning or finishing off sentences, as if each knew what the other was thinking. Fleetscut was watching them closely as they addressed the badger.
"Don't get touchy, sah, we're on your an' the pretty one's side."
"Rather, on the pretty one's side especially, wot wot!"
"I'm Southpaw, an' this fat ugly one's Bobweave!"
"Fat ugly one? Go 'way, you bounder, let miss Dotti say. C'mon, miss, ain't I the best-lookin' one who cuts the finest figure? Tell the truth now!"
Fleetscut approached them, his paw extended. "I'll tell you the truth, you young rips. Bobweave an' Southpaw, eh? You're the orphaned twins, grandsons of Stiffener Medick. I can see it in you both, fightin' hares born an' bred, wot!"
"Rather! How d'ye do, sah!"
"Pleased t'meet you, old chap!"
They exchanged greetings with all the party. Dotti took an immediate liking to the twins. Though they had the biggest, toughest-looking paws she had ever seen on a hare, both were extra gentle when they shook her paw.
Brocktree had changed his attitude, and was quite cordial with them. "So, friends, you have the looks of two very perilous beasts. How can you help us?"
Fleetscut threw a sudden barrage of punches at them. Still smiling and hardly taking notice, they repelled every blow in a casually expert manner. The old hare nodded. "Your grandpa talked about you night'n'day. Said you were the finest boxers on earth."
They shuffled modestly.
"Oh, we keep ourselves busy, sah."
"Always up t'the jolly old mark, y'know."
Dotti was bursting to ask the athletic pair a question. "Er, beg pardon, chaps, but if you two are so good, then why haven't you challenged King Bucko?"
"Quite simple really, miss Dotti."
"Right. If I challenged Bucko an' floored him, then I'd be King Southpaw. But I couldn't give old Bobweave orders."
"True, miss, an' if I challenged Bucko an' won, I'd be King Bobweave. Hahimagine me tryin' to give Southpaw orders?"
"Besides, Bucko Bigbones, between you'n'me'n'the gatepost, he's a great big windbag, but he can be sly an' dangerous as well. Makes all his own rulesan' breaks 'em, too, wot!"
Jukka Sling was beginning to wave her tail impatiently. "Then canst thou tell us how the maid will defeat him?"
"Well, we can't tell you exactly, marm, but we can help her by pointin' out Bucko's weaknesses."
Gurth chuckled appreciatively. "Hur hur hurr, you'm be a-doin' us'n's a gurt favor if'n ee can, young zurrs. Tell away naowwe'm all ears!"
Dotti learned a great deal by listening to Bobweave and Southpaw. King Bucko liked to play jokes, but he hated the joke being on him; he was vain, quick-tempered and resorted to cheating at the blink of an eye. But he was surrounded by loyal mountain hares and, moreover, he was no fool at fighting and always won at any cost.
Ruff wagged a serious paw at the haremaid. "So you see, miss, Bucko ain't no pushover. We got to figger how y'can use his faults agin him, upset his apple cart."
"Smacka 'im tail wivva big stick. Dat's wot Skikkles do!"
Mirklewort shooed her babe off with a dire warning. "HI'll smack yore tail wid a big stick! Go an' play, yer liddle plague. Can't yer see this is a serious conservation?"
Skittles climbed up onto Brocktree's sword hilt and sulked. The Badger Lord reached up and patted the hogbabe's paw. "Maybe Skittles has provided us with the answer!"
"Burr, you'm mean smacken ee king's tail wi' sticks, zurr?"
Brocktree scratched his stripes thoughtfully. "In a manner of speaking, yes. We smack his pride. Can you see what I'm getting at?"
Log a Log Grenn caught on to the idea immediately. "Aye, that's 'ow Dotti'll win, by keepin' cool an' calm. Turn the jokes on Bucko, get the supporters on 'er side."
Jukka began warming to the plan. "Play the good-mannered, well-brought-up haremaid. Use thy wit against the braggart. Make him fall into his own traps!"
Dotti's friends all began making suggestions to help her.
"Use his own weight against him. Duck an' weave!"
"Aye, show him up to his supporters as a fraud an' a cad, wot!"
"Keep y'nose in the air an' dismiss Bucko as a ruffian!"
"Hurr, make ee king wrassle ee, miz Dott. Doan't ee box 'im!"
"Don't fret, miss, we'll show you one or two boxin' tricks!"
"Rather, an' when he's least expectin' it, you can use 'em!"
"Right! We'll outthink him at every turn!"
All that first summer's day they sat on the streambank, working out a master plan. Dotti practiced her new role of the cool, calm and distant haremaid, though she had trouble avoiding the admiring glances of Southpaw and Bobweave, who were obviously smitten with her. Every now and then the twins would be so overcome that they would move further up the bank and box the ears off one another.
Kubba and Rukoo paddled up at midnoon, with the logboats strung out behind them. Kubba shipped paddles and looked questioningly at Grenn. "Wot's goin' on 'ere, marm? Are ye wagerin' on which of those two hares'll knock the other's block off first?"
The Guosim Chieftain helped to moor the vessels. "Somethin' like that. I'll tell ye about it later."
Over the next two days Dotti wrestled with Gurth, was instructed in the art of boxing by two very enthusiastic young hares, and listened to the wisdom of her elders. It was all very helpful and instructive, except for one thing. Part of her training included a strict diet: no food and precious little water. For a creature of her young appetite it was nothing less than sheer, brutal torture. When meals were served she was forced to sit in one of the logboats, guarded by Ruff, out of the sight of food. Nursing a beaker filled with water with a light sprinkle of crushed oats added to it, she glared at her otter friend.
"Rotten an' stingy, that's what you lot are, miserable grubswipers. When I'm a kingessor d'you think queen sounds better?I'll banish the whole bally gang. Everybeast who refused a fatal young royal beauty a morsel, away with 'em!"
Ruff swiped her ears playfully. "Tis only for yore own good, young 'un. You'll thank us for this one day."
"Oh, an' pardon me, what dayll that be, sah, wot?"
Glancing over her shoulder, Ruff whispered, "Hush ye now, miss, 'ere comes Bucko hisself."
A light skiff with two mountain hares plying it drew alongside. Bucko was seated beneath a canopy with a jug of pale cider and a trayful of pasties and tarts. He grinned roguishly at his challenger.
"Weel now, 'tis a bonny summer noontide, lassie. Would ye no care for a tart or a pastie ... mebbe a beaker o' this guid pale cider? Join me, pretty one?"
Dotti blinked serenely. "Thank you kindly, but I'd rather not. I've just finished quite a large luncheon."
Bucko bit into a tart, and blackcurrant juice ran down his chin. "Mmm, nought like a fresh blackcurrant tartie, mah pretty!"
Dotti took a dainty sip of her clouded oatmeal water. "Nought like a fresh mountain hare, I always say. Kindly remove yourself downstream, sah, your table manners offend me. There may be a few mad toads down there who'd be glad of your company. Toads aren't too choosy, y'know."
Bucko bolted the rest of the tart and licked his paws. "Och, an' ye'd know aboot toads' manners, I ken?"
Dotti gave him her sweetest smile. "Indeed I do. Mother always held them up to me as a bad example. Pity your mother hadn't the sense to show you."
Bucko scowled. He tried to stand up, but the skiff swayed. "Ahll thank ye tae leave mah mither oot o' this. Another word aboot her an' I'll teach ye a braw sharp lesson!"
The haremaid stared down her nose at the irate king. "Pray save your threats until the appointed time, sah."