Sagaria Read Online Free

uncertainty behind the braggart’s eyes. You could see the thoughts chasing each other there. No one had ever called Tod’s bluff. Was Flip about to? If so, Tod could be doomed.
    Tod visibly tried to shake off his doubt. “I don’t have the time to waste standing here chatting with you, dear chap, much as I’d like to,” he blustered in a show of hollow good humor. He waved a sheet of paper under Flip’s nose. “I have my speech to practice, you know. My voice will need a little warming up if it’s to be at its best.”
    With a final wave of his paw, he pushed back through the crowd and soon, even the top of his head was out of sight.
    Someone pressed a goblet of cider into Flip’s paw. “Good to see that fabricating loudmouth getting a little of his own back.”
    Surprised, Flip looked around. He only vaguely recognized the grinning face. It was one of the millers who lived on the far side of Mishmash and only occasionally came into town. Then he noticed the miller’s wasn’t the only smiling face; the people to either side of him were glowing with approval as well.
    “Thank you,” he said politely, raising the cup first to its giver and then to his lips.
    A bell rang – the signal that the grand festival dinner was about to be served. As Flip scouted around for somewhere to sit that would give him a good view of Jinnia (he might never capture her heart but he could still admire her from afar), his mind was full of speculations. He’d always assumed Tod was popular, but earlier he’d seen that Dodgem didn’t much like the fellow and now, it was clear that there were others who felt much the same way. If all of those people can see through Tod’s bragging and despise him for it, he thought, maybe Jinnia does as well.
    This notion was so stunning that for a few long moments, he was frozen in place. By the time he’d recovered, he discovered that all the chairs around him had already been eagerly seized. He looked about for any sign of a vacant space at the trestles, but couldn’t see one. He noticed somebody waving at him in the distance. It was Luti Furfoot. Why would the chieftain be trying to attract Flip’s attention?
    Then he saw that the chieftain was not just waving, but pointing to the empty chair beside Old Cobb. It seemed to be the only one in the tent that wasstill empty, and no wonder. Nobody would sit next to Old Cobb if they could possibly help it. It wasn’t that Luti Furfoot especially wanted Flip to dine at the top table. It was just that the chieftain was desperate to find someone to distract the dotard’s attention so that he, Luti, wouldn’t be stuck talking to him for the rest of the night. And, standing there with his mouth open as if he’d just been stung on the rear end by a bee, Flip was the obvious candidate.
    Ho hum, thought Flip as he made his way to the dais. At least I’ll be near Jinnia.
    When he got closer he found that Old Cobb had dozed off, doubtless from one cup too many of strong cone cider. Cobb’s head rested on his shoulder and a steady snore issued from his nostrils. A little drop of drool had formed at the corner of his mouth. Flip scooted into his seat as quietly as he could, for fear of waking up the ancient.
    He was just in time. He’d hardly settled when Luti Furfoot pulled himself up onto his hind legs and hammered the table in front of him to call for quiet in the room. Old Cobb stirred a little as the conversation died away, but mercifully did not waken.
    The chieftain cleared his throat loudly and the last of the whispers stopped.
    “I bid you all welcome,” Luti Furfoot proclaimed, “to the two hundred and fiftieth harvest festival of our proud community of Mishmash!”
    There was a roar of applause. If the tent had rafters, the cheering would have raised them.
    Flip joined in the ruckus cautiously, one eye on the still-snoozing oldster beside him.
    “Today,” the chieftain continued, once the noise ebbed a little, “is a very special day for