The Hour of the Gate Read Online Free PDF Page A

otter. “I have no choice.”
    â€œI’ll go,” announced Flor, smiling magnificently. “I love a challenge.”
    â€œOh, very well.” Caz fitted his monocle carefully, his pink nose still vibrating, “but it’s a fool’s game to draw and roll a brace of twelves after a muntle-star pays out.”
    â€œI suppose I’ll come too,” said Talea with a sigh, “because I’ve no more good sense than the rest of you.”
    All eyes turned toward Mudge.
    â€œRight then, quit staring at me, you bloody great twits!” His voice dropped to a discouraged mutter. “I ’ope when we find ourselves served up t’ the damned Weavers for supper that I’m the last one on the rottin’ menu, so I can at least ’ave the pleasure o’ watchin’ ’em eat you arse’oles first!”
    â€œTo such base uses we all eventually come, Mudge,” Jon-Tom told him.
    â€œDon’t get philosophical with me, mate. Oh, you’ve no choice for sure, not if you’ve a ’ope o’ seeing your proper ’ome again. Old Clothahump’s got you by the balls, ’e as. But as for me, I can be threatened so far and then it don’t matter no more.”
    â€œNo one is threatening you, otter,” said the wizard.
    â€œThe ’ell you ain’t! I saw the look in your eye, knew I might as well say yes voluntary-like and ’ave done with it. You can work thunder and lightnin’ but you can’t make the journey yourself, you old fart! You don’t fool me. You need us.”
    â€œI have never tried to deny that, Mudge. But I will not hold you. I have not threatened you. So behind all your noise and fury, why are you coming?”
    The otter stood there and fumed, breathing hard and glaring first at the turtle, then Jon-Tom, then the others. Finally he booted an exquisite spittoon halfway across the room. It bounced ringingly off the far wall as he sat down in a huff.
    â€œBe billy bedamned if I know!”
    â€œI do,” said Talea. “You’d rather travel along with a bunch of fools like the rest of us than stay here and be conscripted into the army. With Clothahump and Jon-Tom gone, the local authorities will treat you like any other bum.”
    â€œThat’s bloody likely,” snorted Mudge. “Leave me alone, then, won’t you? I said I’d go, though I’d bet heavy against us ever comin’ back.”
    â€œOptimism is better than pessimism, my friend,” said Caz pleasantly.
    â€œYou. I don’t understand you at all, mate.” The otter shoved back his cap and walked across the carpet to confront Caz. “A minute ago you said you weren’t no reckless gambler. Now you’re all for agoin’ off on this charmin’ little suicide trot. And of all o’ us, you’d be the one I’d wager on t’ stay clear o’ the army’s clutches.”
    The rabbit looked unimpressed. “Perhaps I can see the larger picture, Mudge.”
    â€œMeanin’ wot?”
    â€œMeaning that if what our wise friend Clothahump knows to be true indeed comes to pass, the entire world may be embarking on that ‘trot’ with us.” He smiled softly. “There are few opportunities for gambling in a wasteland. I do not think the Plated Folk will permit recreation as usual if they are victorious. And I have other reasons.”
    â€œYeah? Wot reasons?”
    â€œThey are personal.”
    â€œThe wisdom of pragmatism,” said Clothahump approvingly. “It was a beneficial day indeed when the river brought you among us, friend Caz.”
    â€œMaybe. But I think I would be still happier if I had not misjudged the placement of those dice and been forced to depart so precipitately from my ship. The happiness of the ignorant is no less so than any other. Ah well.” He shrugged disarmingly. “We are all of us caught up in momentous events