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as the saying goes, “blow our cover.”
The situation came to a crisis when one of the swine actually made so bold as to advance upon Gwendolyn, open her mouth with his hands, and begin inspecting her teeth, while a second began poking her thighs and buttocks with his thumb.
Wolfgang’s coaching now came into its own.
“Get your filthy paws off my property!” I roared, cracking the bullwhip. The tooth inspector backed up a step, but the buttock prodder merely sneered and continued his examination.
A moment later he was rolling on the ground, howling in pain. And well he should! I dare say I removed a good piece of his own buttock with the whip, whose tip was reinforced with steel wire. Two pieces, actually, one from each haunch—for the sight of his great ass in the air as he flopped on his belly was irresistible.
Perhaps I should have resisted, for the second lash seemed to arouse the mob of draymasters as the first had not. No doubt I had transgressed some quaint local custom.
A moment later they had surrounded the cart, bellowing their fury, shaking their fists, and cursing my person.
“Ozarine whelp!” cried one. (I fear my accent was pronounced.)
“We’ll teach you better!”
“Proper Groutch manners you’re about to learn!”
Wolfgang was whispering some advice into my ear, but I was not paying the slightest attention. I should listen to a lunatic, when I had been trained by my uncle