"Heehee! Lookit the long face on ole Tamm!"

"Bet he wishes he'd been wounded, just so's Pasque could bandage him up an' bathe his brow a bit!"

"If I were him I'd chop me nose off, that'd get her attention!"

"Aye, she'd say, 'Goodness nose, what've they done to your handsome hooter?' Hahahaha!"

Pasque joined in the fun. Grabbing Turry she began reban-daging his ear fiercely. "h.e.l.lo, what's this ear? Goodness knows, your bandage has come loose. Here, let me tie it a bit more snugly!"

Turry squeaked as he tried to get away. "Ow ow! You've cut off all the blood to me ear! Stoppit!"

Sergeant Torgoch loomed over the playful young ones. "Now then, young sirs an' miss, I'll cut off all yore ears an' cook 'em for me supper if yore not all formed up an' ready t'march two ticks from now. Up on yore paws, you idle lot!

91 Where d'you think y'are-on an 'oliday for 'ares? Move y* selves!"

Pasque marched at the rear with Tammo. She smiled and waved to the Sergeant. To Tammo's surprise, he smiled and winked at her.

Tammo scratched his ear, completely puzzled. "Is he always like that, shoutin' one moment an' smiling the next?"

"Sergeants are all the same," the young hare chuckled. "Bark's worse than their bite. Torgoch is my favorite Sergeant, he's always there to look out for you if you get in any trouble."

18.

The remainder of the day went smoothly enough, with the patrol following the vermin track steadily. Late afternoon brought them to the banks of quite a sizeable river. Major Perigord halted them within sight of it.

They crouched in a patch of fern, viewing the scene ahead. Through a screen of weeping willow, elder, sycamore, and holm oak, the river made a welcoming sight, with patches of sun-burnished water showing amid cool islands of tree shade. Tammo was wondering why they had halted and concealed themselves, when he heard Perigord and Twayblade discussing their next move.

"Looks very temptin' indeed, eh, gel?" "Exactly, good spot for an ambush, I'd say." Tammo remembered the last time he had rushed forward to water. The hares were right, this time he would be on his guard.

The Major issued orders in a whisper. "Sergeant Torgoch, take young Pasque an' scout the terrain downstream. Cap'n Twayblade, do likewise upstream, take one with you."

92.

93 "Permission t'go with you, Cap'n. Please, marm, I'd like a chance t'be a real part of the patrol!"

Twayblade could not help smiling at the eager Tammo. "Stripe me, but you're a bright'n'brisk 'un. Still, one volunteer's worth ten pressed creatures. C'mon then, young Tamm."

Leaving the edge of the fern cover, Twayblade drew her deadly long rapier and stooped low. "Follow me, Tamm, duck an' weave, take advantage of any cover, keep your eyes open an' do as I do. That is until I give you an order, then it's do as I say!"

Tammo enjoyed learning from an expert. He kept low, rolling behind mounds, bellying out to crawl over open s.p.a.ces swiftly, then stopping dead and remaining motionless, disguised among bushes. Never traversing in a straight line, they headed east, keeping with the outer edge of the tree fringe until Twayblade decided they had gone far enough. She flattened herself against a gnarled dwarf apple tree, and for a moment Tammo tost sight of the Captain. She blended in with the tree bark until she was almost invisible to the casual observer, and only by staring hard could the young hare make her out.

"Great seasons, Cap'n," he chuckled admiringly, "you nearly vanished altogether then! Mayhaps you'll teach me that trick, marm?"

Twayblade shook her head vigorously. "Not me. Little Midge Manycoats is the chap, he'll teach you all about disguise an' concealment, he's the best there is. Righto, let's make our way to the riverbank an' follow it back down t'where we left the patrol. Everythin' seems to be safe enough hereabouts, but let's not get careless, Tamm. Keep that splendid blade o' yours at the ready, wot!"

They took a drink at the river's edge; the water was cold and sweet. Splashing through the shallows, they cooled their footpaws as they went. Tammo noticed a good patch of watercress, fronds streaming out around a limestone rock beneath * Ifee water. He did not stop to gather it, but noted the spot and carried on in Twayblade's wake. The rest of the journey back 94 was pleasant and uneventful, and they arrived at the ferns as noontide shadows lengthened.

The Captain made her report: "Well, well, I see you lot've had a nice little nap whilst we were gone, wot! Notnin' to report, the coast's clear up that way."

Torgoch and Pasque returned; the Sergeant threw a brisk salute. "River narrows downstream, sah, lots o' rocks stickin' up. That's where the vermin made their crossin', still wet paw-prints on the stones. We'd catch 'em up by midnight if the patrol got Under way smartlike, sah."

Perigord judged die sun's angle. "I think we'll make camp here, Sergeant. No sense in chasm' our tails off, wot. Early start tomorrow, good fast march, an' I've little doubt we'll encounter 'em about high noon. Camp down, troop."

Insects skimmed and flitted on the river surface in quiet twilight, and the campfire flickered warmly. Tammo and Russa opened their haversack. The squirrel dug out the last of her pancakes and distributed them, saying, ' 'Warm these over by the fire, toast 'em up a mite, they're good!"

Rockjaw spitted his on a willow twig and held it over the flames. "How's the soup a comin' along, Rubbadub?"

Corporal Rubbadub pulled a wry face as he took a sip from his ladle. "Brrrrumb.u.m dubadub!"

Lieutenant Mono raised an eyebrow. "As bad as that, eh? Nothin' hereabouts we can add to it?"

Tammo rose and winked at them. "Wait there. I spotted some fresh watercress earlier on. Won't be a tick!"

It was slightly eerie being alone in the gathering gloom as Tammo made his way back upriver. Once or twice he thought he heard noises, and each time he drew his blade and halted, listening, but the only sounds he could make out were those of the flowing water. The young hare gripped his weapon tightly, chiding himself aloud, "Not very good form, sah, be-havin' like a ditherin' duckwife!"

Squaring his shoulders, he loped onward until the limestone rock showed pale and ghostly through the gloom. Wading out to it he gathered pawfuls of the fresh watercress, lopping it off below the waterline with his dirk. Carrying the delicious treat back to the bank, Tammo stuck his blade in a sycamore 95 trunk and began tying the cress in a bundle, using his shoulder strap to secure it.

Four dark shapes dropped out of the branches overhead, making Tammo their target. Footpaws whamming onto his back, shoulders, and head drove Tammo flat, stunning him. Before he had a chance to recover and fight back, a cruel noose slid over his head, pulling tight about his neck. Cords were whipped skillfully around his paws. Tammo was unable to cry out; groggily he tried to head-b.u.t.t one of the wraithlike figures, but a heavy stick struck him in the midriff. Doubled up and fighting to suck air through his wide-open mouth, Tammo was shoved roughly into a cradle made from woven vines. In a trice he was hoisted up into the tree foliage, high among the leafy branches. A dirty gag was bound around his mouth, and the noose loosened.

Savage green-black faces came close to his, lots of them- they seemed to be everywhere.

"Mayka move! Goo on, beast, mayka move! Choohakk! Cutcha t'roat an' eatcha iffya mayka move!"

A paw stroked Tammo's long ears, and a deep grating voice chuckled, "Choohoohoo! Dis a nicey wan, dis wan ours!"

19.

On the afternoon that the weather cleared and brightened up, there was great activity in Redwall Abbey. Armed with axes, saws, and pruning knives, the creatures set about the task of dismantling the beech tree mat had collapsed upon the already unstable south wall. Arven and Shad the Gatekeeper took a long, double-pawed saw, and between them they tackled the heaviest limb they could reach.

Viola Bankvole stood by as Infirmary Sister, with an array of unguents, salves, bandages, and medicines, in case of injuries, Mother Abbess Tansy had given her permission for any willing Redwallers, young or old, to join in. She remarked to her friend Craklyn as they watched the beech being decimated, "Far better to let everybeast take part, don't you think? It makes a heavy ch.o.r.e into more of a social activity."

The squirrel Recorder had her doubts. "We need more organization, Tansy. Look at Sloey and Gubbio-they're sitting perched up on that branch with hammers, knocking away at twigs, the little turnipheads!"

Tansy smiled fondly up at the two Dibbuns. "Oh, leave them, they can't get into much mischief doing that."

96.

97 Craklyn pointed lower down the same branch. "But see, Brother Sedum and Sister Egram are trying to saw through the bottom of the same branch. Look out-there it goes!"

The branch snapped with a sharp crack, Sedum and Egram fell backward with a joint yell, and the two Dibbuns squeaked in dismay as they plummeted earthward.

"Haharr gotcha!"

Lithe and brawny, Skipper of Otters dropped his ax and leapt beneath the branch to catch Sloey and Gubbio in his strong paws. Giggling helplessly, the three of them fell into the ma.s.s of leafy foliage, the Dibbuns crowing aloud with excitement, "Again! Do it again! More, more!"

Skipper sat up rubbing his head. "Ouch! You liddle coves- watch where yore a wavin' those 'ammers!"

Viola was over tike a shot. "I knew it, some creature was bound to get hurt! Come away from there, you naughty babes! And you, call yourself a Skipper of Otters, have you no sense at all? Stop scrabbling about in those leaves with the Dibbuns this instant!"

She swept Sloey up in her paws, and the mousebabe, who was still waving her hammer, which was no more than a small nut mallet, bopped the good Sister an unlucky one between the ears. Viola turned her eyes upward, gave a faint whoop, and sat down hard.

Skipper shook with laughter as he gave orders to some other Dibbuns who had just arrived on the scene. "Ahoy, mates, git bandages an' ointment, fix pore Sister Viola up, she's sore wounded!"

Full of mischief, the Abbeybabes needed no second bidding.

Viola floundered about helplessly on the gra.s.s as they poured ointment on her head and dashed 'round and 'round her until she was swathed in bandages. Tansy and Craklyn had to turn away, they were chuckling so hard. Then Tansy caught sight of the cook.

"Mother Buscol, perhaps you and Gurrbowl would like to Set up the evening meal out here? There's lots of deadwood from the tree for a fire. Couldn't we have a chestnut roast and baked parsnips? Craklyn and I will help-I know, we'll make honey and maple apples. Is there any strawberry fizz in the ^cellars? That would be lovely for our workers!"

98.

99.

Grumbling aloud, the fat old squirrel trundled off to the kitchens for her ingredients. "Lackaday, an' what's wrong with a kitchen oven, may I arsk? Indeed to goodness, look you, a full picnic meal for who knows 'ow many creatures, an' everywhere 'tis nought but bushes an' bangin'. Come on, Gurrbowl, we'll 'ave to see what can be done!"

Goodwife Gurrbowl the Cellar Keeper shook her head severely at Sister Viola as she pa.s.sed. "Moi dearie me, b'aint you'm gotten no sense, Viola, a playin' wi' ee Dibbuns an' gittin' eeself all messed oop loik that!"

Skipper and his crew, with Arven and the more able-bodied Redwallers, set to with a will, chopping, sawing, and hauling heavy branches. The work went well. They struck up a song as they toiled: "Oh, seed is in the ground an' up comes a shoot, Seed is in the soil an' down goes a root, Here comes a leaf an' there goes a twig, Seasons turn as the tree grows big!

Saplin' bends with the breeze at dawn, Wearin' a coat of bark t'keep warm, Growin* lots o' green leaves 'stead o' fur, Birds go a nestin' in its hair.

Some gets flow'rs as they spread root, Some gets berries, some gets fruit, Trees grow t'gether in a glade, All through summer that's nice shade.

Lots o' trees do make a wood, Just the way that good trees should, Ole dead trees when they expire Keep my paws warm by the fire!"

They had scarcely finished the song when a voice rapped sternly from the deepest section of the foliage, "That's still no reason to cut down a tree, is it?"

Skipper looked at Arven strangely. "Did you say somethin', mate?"

"No, I thought it was you for a moment, Skip."

The voice sounded out again, quite irritable this time. "Honestly, where there's no feeling there's no sense. I'm trapped in here, you great pair of buffoons. In here!"

Skipper thrust himself into the foliage. "Sounds like an owlbird t'me!"

A deep sigh escaped from the leafy depths. " 'Owlbird?' Did I call you an otterdog? No! Then pray have the goodness to at least get the name of my species right. Owl, say it!"

Skipper shrugged his brawny shoulders. "Owl!"

"Thank you!" the voice continued. "Now are you going to stand about jawing all day or do you think you and your friends can muster up the decency to get me out of here?"

Right at the heart of the foliage was a thick dead limb with a deep weather-spread crack in it, and wedged there was a female of the type known as Little Owls. She had wide gray eyebrows and huge yellow eyes, which were fixed in a permanent frown.

Arven climbed over a limb and nodded amiably at her. "Good day to ye, marm. You'll excuse my sayin', but we never cut down your tree, the storm knocked it down."

The owl moved her head from side to side huffily. "So you say. All I know is that I'm not three days in this nest, hardly settled down, Taunoc gone hunting for beetles, when the whole world collapses in on me. Knocked unconscious, completely out! I've only just regained my senses, due to your infernal banging and knocking, of course!"

Skipper put down his ax guiltily. "An' are ye all right, marm?"

The owl was a very small one, but she puffed herself up Until she filled the entire crack, glaring at the otter. "All right? < do="" i="" look="" all="" right?="" clutching="" on="" here,="" half="" upside="" down,="" doing="" my="" level="" best="" to="" stop="" three="" eggs="" spilling="" out="" and="" breaking="" all="" over="" the="" ground.="" oh,="" yes,="" apart="" from="" that="" and="" being="" knocked="" out,="" i="" suppose="" i'm="" all="">

Tansy and Craklyn pushed into the foliage, all concern for the owl's predicament.

"Oh, you poor bird! Three eggs and your home's de- Viola, come quick! Arven, Skipper, hold this branch IOO.

steady. Stay still, my dear, we'll have you and your eggs out of there safely in no time at all!"

The Redwallers flocked in to help; carefully they extricated the Little Owl from the crack. The nest, with its three eggs intact, was lifted out as gently as possible. Then, chopping away twigs and foliage, they led the bird out into the open.

Tansy found out that the owl's name was Orocca. They brought her to the fire, placing the nest on a pile of blankets. Orocca was small but looked formidably strong and fierce. She ruffled her feathers and sat on her nest, staring aggressively at everybeast, the pupils of her immense golden eyes dilating and contracting in the firelight.

Mother Buscol gave her warm candied chestnuts, hazelnuts crystallized in honey, and some strawberry fizz. "Indeed to goodness, bird, you need sweet food to get over your shock. Eat up now, look you, there's plenty more."

As Orocca ate voraciously, Viola approached her with herbs and medicines. The owl shot her a glare that sent her scuttling. Timidly she stood behind Skipper and called to Orocca, "When will your egg babies be born?"

The answer was terse and irate. "When they're ready, and not a moment before, silly!"

Foremole Diggum and his team arrived at the fire. Diggum clacked his digging claws together in delight. "Hoo arr, loo-kee, Drubb, 'unny apples an' chesknutters by ee foire! Gurr, us'n's be fair famishered. 'Scuse oi, marm, 'opes you'm doant objeck to molers settin' 'longside ee?"

To everybeast's surprise, Orocca actually smiled at Diggum. "Please be seated, sir, I enjoy the company of moles immensely. I find them wise and sensible creatures, not given to ceaseless chatter and inane questions."

Foremole and his crew sat, heaping their platters with food.

Arven scratched his head in bewilderment. "Orocca doesn't seem too fond of us, yet she took to you straight away. What's your secret, Diggum?"

Foremole's homely face crinkled into a knowing grin. "Hurr, oi 'spect 'tis our 'andsome lukks, zurr!"

Striving to keep a straight face, Arven sat next to Diggum. "Oh, I see. But pray tell me, sir, apart from admiring yourself in a mirror, what else have you been up to this afternoon?"

101.

The mole poured himself a beaker of strawberry fizz. "Us'n's been a diggen, oi'll tell ee wot oi found, zurr!"

Later on Arven sought out Tansy, who was in the dormitory with Mother Buscol, bedding down Dibbuns for the night. Peeping 'round the door, Arven watched in silence, recalling fondly his own Dibbun times. The Abbeybabes lay in their small beds, repeating after Abbess Tansy an ancient poem. Arven had learned it from Auma, an old badgermother, long ago.

He listened, mentally saying the lines along with the little ones.

..-f "Night comes soft, 'tis daylight's end, Sleep creeping gently o'er all, s Bees go to hive, birds fly to nest, Whilst pale moon shadows fall.

Silent earth lies cloaked in slumber, Stars standing guard in the skies, . Til dawn steals up to banish darkness, I must close my weary eyes.