The mole was surprised when Log-a-Log managed to prise one lose with his knife. He scooped the flesh out and cut it up, giving them each a portion.

*"Chew on this," he invited them. "Go on, it's not poison."

Gonff pulled a face at the unappetizing limpet flesh, but bravely he popped it into his mouth and began chewing.

"Tastes very salty," he commented. "I bet you could chew this until next harvest came around and it'd still be bouncing off your teeth. Best swallow it in one gulp."

Martin found some seaweed that tasted quite mild.

"Hey, try some of this! It's like Goody's cabbage with a bit too much salt on. Not bad though."

Between them, they explored the different tastes of rock pool vegetation. The shrimp were proving too difficult to catch, though Gonff sat determinedly, his line hanging in the water, baited with a piece of limpet. Gradually it was taken by something which pulled it beneath an underwater ledge.

237.

"Haha, mateys, I've got a bite," he shouted excitedly. "Look out, here comes supper!"

a.s.sisted by Martin, he pulled and tugged at the line. Finally they hauled up a small spidery object with a soft sh.e.l.l and two tiny claws.

"Throw it back. It's a crab!" Log-a-Log called urgently to them.

Martin shook hold of the small crab as Gonff tried to unlatch its claws from the segment of bait. There was a scrabbling and clattering noise at the poolside, and a huge carapace emerged.

Log-a-Log slashed the line with his knife, leaving the baby crab to enjoy the bait.

The water splashed away, displaced by a considerable bulk. Four blackish-gray armored legs clawed their way over the edge of the rock.

It was a fully grown crab!

The monster stood in front of them, its eyes roving hither and thither on long stalks. Two large plates opened, revealing a downward-slanting mouth that shed water and gaped open at them. But it was the creature's claws that caused the most concern. Large powerful pincers, held high, snapping open and shut with a noise like steel hitting stone, they were studded with h.o.r.n.y nodules that resembled teeth.

"Back off. Don't try to fight it, you'll lose," Log-a-Log said, not taking his eyes from the angry crab. "Keep backing off until we're on the sand. Then we'll really have to run for it. Crabs can scuttle sideways very fast."

They retreated carefully. The big crab blew a bubble from its mouth, lowered its claws, snapped them viciously at the intruders and charged like lightning.

Now that Cludd was gone, Tsarmina needed a new Captain of the Guard, so she promoted Brogg the weasel.

At first Brogg enjoyed his position of power. But of late he was sorry he had ever donned the cloak of Captaincy, particularly when he was called up to be interviewed by the Queen in her chambers.

"Brogg, I made you Captain. You must find Gingivere. He has kidnapped Ashleg."

"Yes, Majesty."

238.

"Find yourself another Captain. That stoat, Ratffank-he'll do," she suggested. "I want you to go through the entire army one by one."

"Go through the army, Milady?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes, jellybrains. You and Ratflank take them one by one to the ceils."

"Yes, Milady."

"Will you stop interrupting me and listen! All anyone ever says around here is 'yes, Milady* or 'no, Milady.' "

"Yes, Milady."

"Shut up!" Tsannina shouted irritably. "Get them one by one in a cell, pull their whiskers, then check their fur. Is their tail their own tail?"

"Er, is it, Milady?"

"That's what I want you to find out, nitwit."

"Oh yes. But why, Milady?"

Tsarmina paced the room, her voice rising to a cracked crescendo. "Because one of them is Gingivere in disguise, you clod. He's here, in my fortress, plotting against me. Get out and find him!"

Later Brogg sat at a barrack room table, joined by Ratflank and several other cronies. They were reduced to eating hard bread and woodland plants. Brogg sipped from a flagon. "Huh, at least there's still a drop of cider left. I tell you, mates, the Queen has definitely taken a funny turn."

"Oh, I don't know," Ratflank smirked. "She's still got the sense to recognize a good stoat when she sees one. Look at me, I'm a Captain now." One of the ferrets spat out a moldy crust. "Is that some kind of ceremony you carried out, Brogg?"

he asked.

"What ceremony, what are you talking about, Dogfur?" "Well, the way you took Ratflank down to the cells and twitched his whiskers, then you pinched his fur and twitched his tail before you gave him the Captain's cloak."

"Oh no. Matter of fact, youVe all got to have it done." "What, you mean we're all going to be made Captains?" "Caw, I wish old Lord Greeneyes was here now, mates,"

Brogg sighed gloomily as he cupped his head in his paws.

**Or even the other one, Gingivere."

239.

Warm sunrays cascading through the leaves mingled in harmony with the peace of Mossflower Woods. Somewhere a cuckoo was calling, and young ferns curled their tendril tops toward blossom on the bramble.

Gingivere had traveled east since early morning, never once turning his head to look back toward Brockhall. He sat with his back to a sycamore and opened the satchel of food given him by the woodlanders. The very sight of a homely oatcake brought a lump to his throat at the thought of the good fnends he had left behind, especially of little Ferdy and Coggs.

With unshed tears bright in his eyes, Gingivere wrapped the food up. He continued walking east through the peaceful flowering forest.

240.

33.

Martin leaped to the fore as the crab came charging forward. "Hurry, get down to the sands," he shouted urgently. "I'll try to hold this thing off. Go on, get going!"

The three travelers would not run and desert their friend. They backed away slowly to the edge of the rocks, while Martin, facing the crab as a rearguard, followed them.

The crab would make a scurrying attack then back off, suddenly changing tack to shuffle in sideways. Not having time to use his sling, Martin hurled several well-placed stones at the maddened creature. They made a hollow clunking noise as they bounced off the tough crabsh.e.l.l. Each time it was. .h.i.t, the crab would halt, pulling its eyes in on their long stalks. Holding one claw high and the other out level toward them, it advanced-for all the world like a fencer minus his sword. The huge claws opened and shut, clacking viciously.

From the top of the rocky outcrop where they stood to the sand below was a forbiddingly long drop. Log-a-Log teetered on the brink, shutting his eyes tight at the dizzy height. Without a second thought, GonfF grabbed the shrew's scrubby coat with one paw, held tight to Dinny's digging claw with the other, and jumped.

As Dinny felt himself being pulled from the smooth rock surface, he seized Martin's tail with his free digging claw.

The crab dashed forward, only to find its pincers nipping nothing. Clutching paw to fur to claw to tail, the travelers 241.

sailed out into midair and plummeted downward, narrowly missing the jutting rocks that projected from the main ma.s.s.

b.u.mp!

They landed flat upon the beach sand with a dull thud that knocked the breath from their bodies.

Martin was first to recover. He sat up, rubbing his back, feeling as if his tail had been dragged out by the roots. Dinny lay facedown. He lifted his head, snorted sand, and looked up at the rock face.

"Hoo arr. Lookout, 'ee commen doawn!" he warned.

Sure enough, the crab was scrambling and scuttling sideways down the rocks toward them with surprising agility.

Ignoring his injuries, Martin ran to face the armored menace as his friends recovered from the fall. Grabbing a stave, he hit out strongly at the creature.

With a loud clack, the crustacean caught the flailing stave between both its claws, immediately locking tight onto it, wrenching the weapon from the warrior's grasp.

Martin felt totally helpless as he readied himself for the crab's next move.

Whirling and prancing about on the sand with its slitlike mouth gaping and frothing, the crab clutched madly at the stave. Martin could only stare in amazement at the dancing monster as it jigged about, holding the stave high in its murderous claws.

Log-a-Log tugged at the warrior's paw. "Come on, Martin. Let's get going while we can. That crab doesn't seem to want to let go of the stave!'*

"Ha!" Gonff snorted. "It's not a case of wanting. It hasn't got the sense to release the stave. Can't you see?"

As if to prove his point, the little mousethief joined the crab and actually began dancing along with it. Round and round they went, Gonff comically following his strange partner's every twist and turn. Furiously the crab waggled its stalked eyes, opening and closing its mouth as it pranced crazily around, still clasping the stave tightly.

Martin and his friends nursed their arching ribs, trying not to laugh too hard. Tears streamed down their cheeks at Gonff's antics.

"Oh hahahahooohooo. Stoppit, Gonff, please," Martin 242.

begged. "Heeheeheehahaha. Come away and leave the silly beast alone. Hahahaha!"

Gonff halted; he doffed a courtly bow at the enraged crab, "My thanks to you, sir. You truly are a wonderful dancer."

The crab stood glaring at Gonff, with a mixture of ferocity and bafflement as the mousethief continued his polite compliments.

"Oh, I do hope we meet again at the next annual Rockpool Ball. Those shrimps are such clumsy fellows, you know. They tread all over one's paws. They're not half as good as you. Incidentally, who taught you to dance so well? Keeping all those legs going together, you didn't trip once. My, my. We really must do this again sometime."

The crab stood stock-still with the stave held high. It watched the four travelers depart along the sh.o.r.e, their laughter and jesting mingled on the breeze.

"Hahahaha! Wait'111 tell Columbine. Maybe he'll give her dancing lessons if we ever chance this way again, hahaha!"

"Burr, 'ee'm a wunnerful futt tapper."

"What about you, Din? You could have joined them for a threesome reel."

It had been an eventful day. Now, as the noon shadows began lengthening, the tide flooded in. The friends wended their weary way along the interminable sh.o.r.eline. Saiamandastron stood firm in the distance, never seeming to get any closer.

Tired and dispirited, they trekked onward, feeling the pangs of hunger and thirst. Apart from the odd seabird whose curiosity had to be fended off forcefully, they were completely isolated.

Log-a-Log shielded his eyes, pointing ahead. "Look, what are those birds up to over yonder?''

Some distance further on, gulls were wheeling and diving. There were two black shapeless objects upon the sand. The birds were concentrating their attack on the smaller of these.

Eager to see what was happening, the travelers broke into a trot. As they drew near to the scene, it became apparent that the gulls were hara.s.sing a living creature. Not far from where it lay there was a ramshackle lean-to.

Martin whirled his sling as he began running.

243.

"Come on, mates. Let's drive those scavengers off. Charge!"

The creature was a thin ragged rat. Gulls pecked and tore ruthlessly at it as it lay unprotected on the sand.

Under the fierce onslaught of stones and staves, the sea-birds took to the air, screeching and wheeling above the intruders who had robbed them of their prey, and finally flying off to seek easier victims.

Martin knelt and lifted the rat's head. The creature was very old and emaciated.

"There, there, now, old one," he said, stroking sand out of its watery eyes. "We're friends. You're safe now."

Log-a-Log touched the rat's limp paw. "Save your breath, Martin. This one has gone to the gates of Dark Forest."

"Dead?"

"Aye. Dead as stone. He must have been on his last legs when the birds found him. Let's get him to his hut."

Between them they bore the rat into the tattered dwelling. Placing it gently in a corner, they covered the body with an old piece of sailcloth. Then Gonff explored the contents of the hut.

"Look, mateys, water and supplies," he said triumphantly.

There was a small quant.i.ty of dried shrimp and seaweed and a pouch of broken biscuit, but best of all there were two hollow gourds filled with clean fresh water. Dinny found a cache of driftwood. He began setting a small fire, using a flint from Martin's sling pouch and the steel of GonfTs dagger.

"Pore beasten. Oi wunder who'm *ee wurr." The mole shook his head sadly.

Log-a-Log poured water into c.o.c.kle sh.e.l.ls.

"Sea rat. No question of it. He's been chained to an oar, too. I saw the scars on his paws. Mine were like that once."

Martin found a thick deep sh.e.l.l, blackened by fire on its outside. He began shredding shrimp and seaweed into it.

"But you said they used other creatures as oar slaves, yet this one was a rat?"