Skaup acted quickly. "You there, Dropear, take fifty an' ran on ahead. Don't go up the 'ill, go 'round it-come at 'em along the sh.o.r.e. I'll take the rest an' make for the sh.o.r.e from 'ere, that way we'll get 'em between us. Never mind the shrews, we're 'ere to bring those traitors back, not to fight wid .a gang o' boatmice. Get goin'!"

Vendace and Borumm were almost down the hill when the fox whispered to his partner, "D'yer think they've seen us? I .coulda swore I saw the ole one lookin' over this way once or ijwice."

Borumm waved his paw to the vermin scrabbling downhill, urging them to move a bit faster. "Nah, if'n they'd seen us we'd 'ave known by now, mate. Best stop our lot when we reach the stream bank, that way we can all charge together. That water looks pretty shallow t'me."

It took more time than Vendace liked for the last vermin to * get down off the hill onto the sh.o.r.e. He fidgeted impatiently, conveying his anxiety to Borumm. "All of a sudden I don't fike this, mate. Those shrews gotta be blind if they ain't seen ;as by now. Lookit our lot too, barrin' for me an' you an' a jcouple o' others, there's scarce a decent blade between us- ^they're mostly armed wid chunks o' wood or stones."

^ The weasel glared bad-temperedly at the fox. "Fine time ler be tellin' me you've got the jitters. Wot's the matter, mate, don't you think we kin take a pack o' scruffy shrews?

*Straighten yerself up! Come on, you lot. Chaaaaaarge!"

* Bellowing and roaring, they made it into the shallows-then they were besieged on three sides. Log-a-Log and his Guosim loosed arrows and slingstones across the water. The charging jfine faltered a second under the salvo, then they were hit by file forces of Dropear and Skaup coming at them from both .'tides. It was a complete defeat for Vendace and Borumm's *#ennin.

"Stay yore weapons, Guosim," Log-a-Log called to his 160 shrews, "this isn't our fight no more. But stand ready to bring down any vermin tryin' to cross the stream!"

The fugitives could run neither forward nor sideways. Some tried running back uphill, where they made easy targets for arrow and lance. The remainder, knowing what fate would await them at the paws of Damug Warfang, fought desperately, trying to break free and run anyplace.

Across the stream the shrews sat in their logboats, paddles poised as they watched the awful carnage.

Frackle averted her eyes, as if she could not bear to watch. "They're from the same band. Some of those creatures must've fought together side by side. How can they do that to one another?"

Log-a-Log watched the slaughter through narrowed eyes. "They're vermin, they'd kill their own families for a crust!"

There were only ten of the original fugitive band left alive- the rest lay floating in the stream or draped on the hillside. Skaup grinned evilly at Borumm as he noosed his neck to the others, forming them into a line. "Firstblade Damug'Il be well pleased to see you an' the fox safe back under 'is paw, weasel."

Bound paw and neck, the prisoners tottered painfully along the sh.o.r.e, driven by spearb.u.t.ts and whipped with bowstrings. Skaup turned to stare across the stream at the Guosim sitting in their logboats. "You got off light t'day, but you've slain Rapscallions. We'll settle with you another day!"

Log-a-Log's face was impa.s.sive as he picked up a bow and sent an arrow thudding into Skaup's outstretched paw. "Aye, we've slain Rapscallions, an' we'll slay a lot more unless you get gone from this place. I warn ye, sc.u.m, next time I draw this bowstring the arrow won't be aimed at yore paw. Archers ready!"

Guosim bowbeasts stood up in the logboats, setting shafts to bowstrings, awaiting their Chieftain's next command.

Skaup's face was rigid with agony. He looked at the shrew shaft transfixing his paw and the Guosim with bows stretched, and slunk off, his voice strained with pain and anger as he yelled, "We'll meet again someday, I swear it!"

A ribald comment echoed across the stream waters at his 161 back: "Be sure t'bring that arrow with ye, 'twas a good shaft!"

Skaup was close to collapse when he made it back to his party. Dropear threw a paw of support around his shoulders. "Siddown, Cap'n, an' I'll dig that thing outta yore paw."

The ferret pushed him roughly aside and staggered onward. "Not here, fool. Let's get out o' sight farther down the bank!"

Log-a-Log and his shrews stood watching them until they were behind a curve in the stream course. The shrew leader stroked his short gray beard. "Hmm, what we saw 'ere t'day tells me somethin', mates. If they could afford to slay more'n thirty o' their own kind, then there must be more of 'em than I thought-a whole lot more! Right, let's get these craft under way midstream, where the current runs swift. Watch out for a weepin' willow grove on yore port sides. We'll take the back . waterways an' sidecut off to Redwall Abbey. I think I'd best warn 'em there's trouble comin'."

30.

Algador Swiftback cast a fleeting glance backward as he marched on into the gathering evening. "Whew! I say, we've covered a fair old stretch today. Salamandastron's completely out o' sight!"

Drill Sergeant Clubrush's voice growled close to his ear. "The mountain might be out o' sight, laddie buck, but I'm not! No talkin' in the ranks there, keep pickin' those paws up an' puttin' 'em down. Left right, left right, left right..."

More than five hundred hares of the Long Patrol, some veterans but mainly new recruits, tramped eastward into the dusk, with Lady Cregga Rose Eyes, axpike on shoulder, always far ahead.

The lolloping young hare named Trowbaggs still had difficulty in learning to march properly. He put his left paw down when everybeast was on their right, and vice versa, and for the umpteenth time that day he stumbled, treading on the foot-paws of the hare marching in front.

"Oops! Sorry, old chap, the blinkin' footpaws y'know, get-tin' themselves mixed up again, right left, right left..."

Deodar shook her head in despair as she watched him.

162.

163 ^Trowbaggs, y'great puddenhead, it's left right, not right '-' Clubrush's stentorian voice rang out over the marchers: *'Long Patrol-halt! Stand still everybeast-that means you .too, Trowbaggs, you 'orrible liddle beast!"

Thankfully, the marching lines halted, standing to attention -. until the order was given.

"First Regiment, stand at ease! Water an' wood foragers / ftll out! Duty cooks, take up ch.o.r.es! Lance Corporal Ellbrig, / pkk out yore sentries for first watch! The remainder of you, ;'"- Jay out y'packs an' groundsheets, check all weapons an' arms!

-, Four neat rows now, clear away any nettles an' p.r.i.c.kles over f there-that's yore campsite for tonight, you lucky lot!"

: Hares dashed hither and thither on their various duties as -Sergeant and Lance Corporal roared out orders. In a short time, military precision resulted in camp being set up.

Algador sat with his companions by the shallows of a small pond, everybeast cooling off their footpaws and resting on their packs.

Furgale lay flat on his back, complaining to the stars: "Oh, ;'* my auntie's bonnet! I thought oP Clubrush was goin' to march ,;us all bally night. Look, there's steam risin' out of the water " where I'm dippin' me pore old paws!"

The Sergeant's tone was almost an outraged squeal. "Get ; ihose dirty great sweaty dustridden paws out o' that water! It's Sfor drinkin', not sloshin' about in. Trowbaggs, what'n the : name o' seasons are you up to, bucko?" ;;* "Wrappin' m'self up in me groundsheet, Sarge. Good Veins stood out on the Sergeant's brow as he roared at the s blunderer, "Sleepin'? Who said you could sleep, sah? Get that equipment cleaned, lay out yore mess kit, line up for ^"*Stopper! Forget sleep. Trowbaggs, stay awake! Yore on second f;': Trowbaggs groaned aloud as he searched in the dark for his mess kit. "Somebeast's pinched me flippin' spoon. Oh, Mother, I want to go home. Save me from all this, I wasn't Hgptout for it, wot!"

"Never mind, scout," a kindly older hare named Shangle fidepad whispered to him, "it gets worse before it gets jolly 164.

i65 well better. Here, I'll swap with you. I'm on first watch. You do it and I'll take second sentry for you, that way you'll be able t'get a full night's sleep."

When the camp had quieted down and was running smoothly, Clubrush went to sit beside Lady Cregga at the pond's far side. She looked up from polishing her axhead and asked, "How are they doing. Sergeant?"

"Oh, they'll shape up, rnarrn, never fear. First day's always the longest for the green ones. P'raps if we don't march 'em as 'ard an' far tomorrer..."

The rose eyes glinted dangerously. "They'll learn to march twice as hard and fast, aye, and fight like they never imagined before I'm done with them. I never brought them along on any picnic, and the sooner they realize that the better. Dismissed, Sergeant Clubrush!"

The Sergeant stood to attention and saluted. "Aye, marm, thank ye, marm!"

Clubrush went to where his equipment was neatly laid out. Somebeast had carefully folded his groundsheet so that he could retire immediately without making it up into a sleeping bag. Being an old campaigner, the Sergeant upset the sheet with his pace stick. A pile of nettles and some soggy bank sand flopped out on the ground.

He lay down on the clean dry part of the sheet and shouted, "Oowow! Who put this lot in me bed? You 'orrible rotten lot, I'll march yore blatherin' paws to a frazzle in the mornin'!"

Smothered giggles sounded from the recruits' area. Sergeant Clubrush smiled as he settled down. They were good young 'uns; he'd do all he could to help them make the grade.

Obeying Damug's orders, Gaduss the weasel had scouted north with his patrol all day, reaching the southern edge of Mossflower Wood by nightfall. He allowed no fires to be lit in the small camp set up at the outer tree fringe. The night pa.s.sed uneventfully.

In the hour before dawn, the scouts broke camp and pressed on. They had not been traveling long when the weasel gave a signal. Dropping flat in a patch of ferns, the vermin patrol watched Gaduss wriggle forward. Through the mist-wreathed .*; ftte trunks a silent figure moved, seeking shadows between ', shafts of dawn light.

:?-, Gaduss unlooped from his belt a greased strangling noose 4 fashioned from animal sinew. Winding it around both paws, K he inched forward until he was shielded by an ash tree, directly ?~ in the traveler's path. Timing it just right, he leapt out behind '*;. the unwary creature and whipped the noose over his head and :; "round his neck.

; J 'ere7"

*Jv The ferret ma.s.saged his neck where the noose had bruised

ji?;'it "Findin' me way back ter Gormad Tunn an' the army. Nice fe^Bception yer gave me, mate, 'arf choked me ter death!"

*fe Gaduss stuffed the noose back into his belt. "You 'aven't ;fi V'eard, then. Gormad's dead, so is Byral, 'tis Damug Warfang %f:^ho's Firstblade of Rapscallions now. Where've y'been?" Rinkul sat down on a rotting stump. "Been? That's a long ry, mate. Our ship was driven off course an' wrecked up the northeast coast. I've been through a lot o' things an' the onlybeast left alive out o' a shipload. But that's by by. Get me ter Damug Warfang, I've got news fer 'is ears e-urgent news!"

167.

In the orchard of Redwall Abbey the tables for the owlchicks' feast had been laid. Friar b.u.t.ty supervised his helpers 'round a firepit, over which the hot dishes were being kept at a good temperature. Apple, pear, and plum blossoms were shedding their petals thickly on the heads of the feasters. It was a joyous sight.

The three owlchicks sat on cushions inside an empty barrel alongside their mother's place at the table; the badgerbabe lay in an old vegetable basket lined with sweet-smelling dried mosses. Tammo and Pasque sat together, with Arven and Dig-gum Foremole on either side of them. Mother Abbess Tansy occupied her big chair, which had been specially carried out. She looked very happy, clad in a new cream-colored habit, belted with a pale green girdle cord. The Dibbuns had made her a tiara of daisies and kingcups, which she wore proudly, if a little lopsidedly, on her headspikes.

Good Redwall food had the tables almost bent with its weight. Rockjaw Grang grabbed spoon and fork in a businesslike way. Gurrbowl Cellarmole nodded to him as she and Drubb rolled a barrel of October Ale up to its trestle. "Hurr, 166.

ee lukk ready t'do a speck o' dammidge to yon vittles, zurr!"

Sergeant Torgoch eyed a large spring salad longingly. "You'll 'scuse me sayin', marm, but 'e ain't the only one 'ereabouts who's lived on camp rations fer a season, eh, Rub-badub?"

The fat hare's smile matched the sun in the sky. "Rubbity dubdub boomboom!"

Abbess Tansy nodded politely to the Major. ' 'As our guest, sir, perhaps you'd like to say the grace?"

Perigord's mouth was watering furiously, but he wiped his lips on a kerchief and drooped an elegant ear in Tansy's direction. "Quite, er, thank ye, marm!"

"Thanks to seasons an' jolly good luck, We've all got a sword an' a head, An' the way we'll tuck into these vittles Will show that we're living, not dead."

"Haharrharr!" Shad the Gatekeeper chortled. "Short'n'sweet, that's 'ow I likes it, mate. Dig in!"

Everybeast did so with a will. Redwallers had no strict rules about dining: sweet was as good as salad to start, stew as acceptable as cake, and all shared the feast with one another.

"Here, mate, try some o' this plum slice with black-currant sauce!"

"Whoi thankee, zurr mate, may'ap you'm aven summ o' moi deeper'n ever turnip'n'tater'n'beetroot pie. Hurr-that be th'stuff!"

"Mmmm! Well, what d'you think of our Mossflower {., Wedge, eh, Pasque?"

' 'Excellent. I never knew I was such a jolly good cook, wot!"

"I say, this Abbey Trifle is absoballylutely top hole!"

"Just give me good oP fresh crusty bread an' ripe yellow cheese, oh, with some o' these tangy pickles, an' a plate o'

; salad, an' maybe some stuffed mushrooms. Put that fruitcake ff oh the side, I'll deal with it later. More October Ale, please!"

' 'Damson an' gooseberry pudden with meadowcream, that's f'me!"

168.

"Ahoy, Dibbun, drink any more o' that strawberry fizz an' you'll go bang!"

"Awright den, me go bang. Ooh, likkle berryfruit tarts, me like 'em!"

Taunoc dropped in and peered at the owlchicks in their barrel, saying, "Goodness, what handsome chicks. I think they resemble me strongly."

"Wot a pity," a raucous voice called out. "Shame they don't look more like yore missus, hahaha!"

The Little Owl sniffed pityingly. ' 'There speaks a beast with all his taste in his mouth."

"Have you decided on names for the little ones yet, marm?" the Abbess called across to Orocca.

Orocca took her beak out of a hazelnut turnover long enough to reply, "Owls never name their eggchicks. They'll tell us their own names once they are ready to speak."

Tansy gave her a charming nod and a smile, then, pulling a wry face, she turned to Craklyn. "Oops, excuse me for asking, but what about our badgerbabe? We're going to need a name for him soon. Anybeast come up with a good idea yet?"

Craklyn paused from her rhubarb and maple crumble. "D'you see the giant hare over there, the one they call Rock-jaw? Well, I think he's thought up a name for the little fellow."

At their request, Rockjaw emerged from behind a pair of platters piled high with salad, bread, cheese, cake, and pasties and wiped his mouth daintily on the tablecloth hem. "By 'ecky thump, marms, there's only one thing better'n food- more food! Sithee, I've dubbed yon likkle tyke well. 'E's to be named Russano."

Captain Twayblade nodded her agreement. "Aye, 'tis a good strong name. Russa Nodrey saved his life, so her name'11 live on in the badger. 'Twas clever of oF Rock, really, he took Russa's first name an' the first two letters of her second. Russano, I like it. Here's to Russano!"

Everybeast raised their drinks to toast the babe's new name. "Russano! Good health, long seasons!" "May he always remember his pretty ol' nurse, Rockjaw Grang!" Lieutenant Mono added, then ducked quickly beneath the table as Rockjaw picked up a pie.

169.

"Ah've never struck a h'officer wi' an apple an' red-currant pie afore, but there's alms a first time, 'tenant Morio!"

Amid the general laughter, Craklyn got up and sang an old Abbey birthing song.

"O here's to the little ones, Sunshine on all, As we grow old'n'small, May they grow tall, Not knowing hunger or winter's cold bite, Fearing no living thing, by day or night, Strong in the heart, and st.u.r.dy of limb, Making us proud to know of her or him.

Here's to the life we love, honest and new, Grant all these hopes and dreams come true, With each fresh dawn may joy never cease, Long seasons of happiness and peace!"

Perigord thumped the tabletop with his tankard. "Splendid, well sung, marm! Long Patrol, let us honor little Russano in Salamandastron style. Draw steel!"

Tarnmo was not sure what to do, though he felt privileged to be part of the hares' brief ceremony. Pulling forth his blade, he held it flat over the vegetable basket like the rest. Gazing solemnly up through a crisscross of deadly steel, the badger-babe watched Major Perigord as he intoned: ' 'We are the Long Patrol, these are our perilous blades, Pledged to your protection across all the seasons, Our lives are yours, your life is ours. Eulali aaaaaaaaa!''

"Blister me barnacles, mate," Skipper of Otters whispered to Arven. "I felt the fur rise all along me back when those warriors shouted their battle cry!"

The Champion of Redwall smiled. "Aye, me too, but did y'see the little Russano? He never batted an eyelid. He'll grow to be a cool 'un, I wager."