Chapter XXII. A victim of treachery.

by Mark Twain

　　Once more 'King Foo-foo the First' was roving with the tramps andoutlaws, a butt for their coarse jests and dull-witted railleries,and sometimes the victim of small spitefulness at the hands ofCanty and Hugo when the Ruffler's back was turned. None but Cantyand Hugo really disliked him. Some of the others liked him, andall admired his pluck and spirit. During two or three days, Hugo,in whose ward and charge the King was, did what he covertly couldto make the boy uncomfortable; and at night, during the customaryorgies, he amused the company by putting small indignities uponhim--always as if by accident. Twice he stepped upon the King'stoes--accidentally--and the King, as became his royalty, wascontemptuously unconscious of it and indifferent to it; but thethird time Hugo entertained himself in that way, the King felledhim to the ground with a cudgel, to the prodigious delight of thetribe. Hugo, consumed with anger and shame, sprang up, seized acudgel, and came at his small adversary in a fury. Instantly aring was formed around the gladiators, and the betting andcheering began. But poor Hugo stood no chance whatever. Hisfrantic and lubberly 'prentice-work found but a poor market foritself when pitted against an arm which had been trained by thefirst masters of Europe in single-stick, quarter-staff, and everyart and trick of swordsmanship. The little King stood, alert butat graceful ease, and caught and turned aside the thick rain ofblows with a facility and precision which set the motley on-lookers wild with admiration; and every now and then, when hispractised eye detected an opening, and a lightning-swift rap uponHugo's head followed as a result, the storm of cheers and laughterthat swept the place was something wonderful to hear. At the endof fifteen minutes, Hugo, all battered, bruised, and the targetfor a pitiless bombardment of ridicule, slunk from the field; andthe unscathed hero of the fight was seized and borne aloft uponthe shoulders of the joyous rabble to the place of honour besidethe Ruffler, where with vast ceremony he was crowned King of theGame-Cocks; his meaner title being at the same time solemnlycancelled and annulled, and a decree of banishment from the gangpronounced against any who should thenceforth utter it.All attempts to make the King serviceable to the troop had failed.He had stubbornly refused to act; moreover, he was always tryingto escape. He had been thrust into an unwatched kitchen, thefirst day of his return; he not only came forth empty-handed, buttried to rouse the housemates. He was sent out with a tinker tohelp him at his work; he would not work; moreover, he threatenedthe tinker with his own soldering-iron; and finally both Hugo andthe tinker found their hands full with the mere matter of keepinghis from getting away. He delivered the thunders of his royaltyupon the heads of all who hampered his liberties or tried to forcehim to service. He was sent out, in Hugo's charge, in companywith a slatternly woman and a diseased baby, to beg; but theresult was not encouraging--he declined to plead for themendicants, or be a party to their cause in any way.Thus several days went by; and the miseries of this tramping life,and the weariness and sordidness and meanness and vulgarity of it,became gradually and steadily so intolerable to the captive thathe began at last to feel that his release from the hermit's knifemust prove only a temporary respite from death, at best.But at night, in his dreams, these things were forgotten, and hewas on his throne, and master again. This, of course, intensifiedthe sufferings of the awakening--so the mortifications of eachsucceeding morning of the few that passed between his return tobondage and the combat with Hugo, grew bitterer and bitterer, andharder and harder to bear.The morning after that combat, Hugo got up with a heart filledwith vengeful purposes against the King. He had two plans, inparticular. One was to inflict upon the lad what would be, to hisproud spirit and 'imagined' royalty, a peculiar humiliation; andif he failed to accomplish this, his other plan was to put a crimeof some kind upon the King, and then betray him into theimplacable clutches of the law.In pursuance of the first plan, he purposed to put a 'clime' uponthe King's leg; rightly judging that that would mortify him to thelast and perfect degree; and as soon as the clime should operate,he meant to get Canty's help, and force the King to expose his legin the highway and beg for alms. 'Clime' was the cant term for asore, artificially created. To make a clime, the operator made apaste or poultice of unslaked lime, soap, and the rust of oldiron, and spread it upon a piece of leather, which was then boundtightly upon the leg. This would presently fret off the skin, andmake the flesh raw and angry-looking; blood was then rubbed uponthe limb, which, being fully dried, took on a dark and repulsivecolour. Then a bandage of soiled rags was put on in a cleverlycareless way which would allow the hideous ulcer to be seen, andmove the compassion of the passer-by. {8}Hugo got the help of the tinker whom the King had cowed with thesoldering-iron; they took the boy out on a tinkering tramp, and assoon as they were out of sight of the camp they threw him down andthe tinker held him while Hugo bound the poultice tight and fastupon his leg.The King raged and stormed, and promised to hang the two themoment the sceptre was in his hand again; but they kept a firmgrip upon him and enjoyed his impotent struggling and jeered athis threats. This continued until the poultice began to bite; andin no long time its work would have been perfected, if there hadbeen no interruption. But there was; for about this time the'slave' who had made the speech denouncing England's laws,appeared on the scene, and put an end to the enterprise, andstripped off the poultice and bandage.The King wanted to borrow his deliverer's cudgel and warm thejackets of the two rascals on the spot; but the man said no, itwould bring trouble--leave the matter till night; the whole tribebeing together, then, the outside world would not venture tointerfere or interrupt. He marched the party back to camp andreported the affair to the Ruffler, who listened, pondered, andthen decided that the King should not be again detailed to beg,since it was plain he was worthy of something higher and better--wherefore, on the spot he promoted him from the mendicant rank andappointed him to steal!Hugo was overjoyed. He had already tried to make the King steal,and failed; but there would be no more trouble of that sort, now,for of course the King would not dream of defying a distinctcommand delivered directly from head-quarters. So he planned araid for that very afternoon, purposing to get the King in thelaw's grip in the course of it; and to do it, too, with suchingenious strategy, that it should seem to be accidental andunintentional; for the King of the Game-Cocks was popular now, andthe gang might not deal over-gently with an unpopular member whoplayed so serious a treachery upon him as the delivering him overto the common enemy, the law.Very well. All in good time Hugo strolled off to a neighbouringvillage with his prey; and the two drifted slowly up and down onestreet after another, the one watching sharply for a sure chanceto achieve his evil purpose, and the other watching as sharply fora chance to dart away and get free of his infamous captivity forever.Both threw away some tolerably fair-looking opportunities; forboth, in their secret hearts, were resolved to make absolutelysure work this time, and neither meant to allow his fevereddesires to seduce him into any venture that had much uncertaintyabout it.Hugo's chance came first. For at last a woman approached whocarried a fat package of some sort in a basket. Hugo's eyessparkled with sinful pleasure as he said to himself, "Breath o' mylife, an' I can but put that upon him, 'tis good-den and God keepthee, King of the Game-Cocks!" He waited and watched--outwardlypatient, but inwardly consuming with excitement--till the womanhad passed by, and the time was ripe; then said, in a low voice--"Tarry here till I come again," and darted stealthily after theprey.The King's heart was filled with joy--he could make his escape,now, if Hugo's quest only carried him far enough away.But he was to have no such luck. Hugo crept behind the woman,snatched the package, and came running back, wrapping it in an oldpiece of blanket which he carried on his arm. The hue and cry wasraised in a moment, by the woman, who knew her loss by thelightening of her burden, although she had not seen the pilferingdone. Hugo thrust the bundle into the King's hands withouthalting, saying--"Now speed ye after me with the rest, and cry 'Stop thief!' butmind ye lead them astray!"The next moment Hugo turned a corner and darted down a crookedalley--and in another moment or two he lounged into view again,looking innocent and indifferent, and took up a position behind apost to watch results.The insulted King threw the bundle on the ground; and the blanketfell away from it just as the woman arrived, with an augmentingcrowd at her heels; she seized the King's wrist with one hand,snatched up her bundle with the other, and began to pour out atirade of abuse upon the boy while he struggled, without success,to free himself from her grip.Hugo had seen enough--his enemy was captured and the law would gethim, now--so he slipped away, jubilant and chuckling, and wendedcampwards, framing a judicious version of the matter to give tothe Ruffler's crew as he strode along.The King continued to struggle in the woman's strong grasp, andnow and then cried out in vexation--"Unhand me, thou foolish creature; it was not I that bereaved theeof thy paltry goods."The crowd closed around, threatening the King and calling himnames; a brawny blacksmith in leather apron, and sleeves rolled tohis elbows, made a reach for him, saying he would trounce himwell, for a lesson; but just then a long sword flashed in the airand fell with convincing force upon the man's arm, flat side down,the fantastic owner of it remarking pleasantly, at the same time--"Marry, good souls, let us proceed gently, not with ill blood anduncharitable words. This is matter for the law's consideration,not private and unofficial handling. Loose thy hold from the boy,goodwife."The blacksmith averaged the stalwart soldier with a glance, thenwent muttering away, rubbing his arm; the woman released the boy'swrist reluctantly; the crowd eyed the stranger unlovingly, butprudently closed their mouths. The King sprang to his deliverer'sside, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, exclaiming--"Thou hast lagged sorely, but thou comest in good season, now, SirMiles; carve me this rabble to rags!"