Rakkety Tam

22

Gulo the Savage was in a killing rage, the proof of which was laid out in front of him. Every white fox and ermine who served the insane wolverine stood in horrified awe, staring at the torn remains of the four vermin whose responsibility had been to guard the camp on the previous night. Gulo had personally killed them. He had literally destroyed all three, using only his fangs and claws. So overwhelming was his anger that he had also vented it on the carcase of the fourth sentry, the one whom Doogy had put paid to with his blade. Gulo’s warriors stood to rigid attention, scarcely daring to breathe as he prowled amongst them, berating everybeast with his increasing wrath.

“I am Gulo the Savage, son of Dramz, greatest and fiercest in all the lands of ice beyond the great sea! Yet I am served by fools, knaves and idlers! Scouts and trackers who are so blind and stupid that they cannot follow the trail of my treacherous brother Askor, the coward who fled from me, the thief who stole the Walking Stone! Idiots who call themselves warriors, who let my banner be stolen and allowed valuable captives to slip away. Tremble! Aye, shake like aspens before the storm, all of ye!”

Shard, the white fox captain, his cloak in tatters, crouched beside the drum, whimpering in pain. All down one flank he had lost his snow-white fur in the hot embers of the fire; dried blood matted his skulltop where Tam had hit him with the dirk hilt. Shard looked like a pitiful remnant of his former self, completely cowed and in searing agony from his injuries.

Gulo eyed him contemptuously. “And thou, my clever Captain, have ye a solution? What is the answer to all of thy Lord’s woes, eh?”

Shard knew that to speak would be to invite his own death. He lay quivering, with downcast eyes, before his master. Perching upon the drum’s rim, Gulo leaned down with his mouth close to the captain’s face. “One more mistake, Shard, just one, and I will build me a fire to finish off roasting thee properly. Yes?”

The white fox spoke without daring to look at the insane eyes that were appraising him. “Yes, Mighty One.”

Gulo patted the fox’s injured flank, making him quiver in anguish. “Good, now listen to my commands. Ye will come with me. We will march straightaway to the Redwall place. There ye will take all of my fighters and gain entry. I want everything! My banner, the Walking Stone, and Askor, ye will deliver them unto me. Is this understood?”

Gulo grabbed Shard by both ears, wrenching his face upward as he repeated his final word. “Understood?”

Swallowing the huge lump which seemed to have arisen in his throat, the fox stammered, “To h . . . hear is to obey, Lord!”

The wolverine gave Shard a swift kick, releasing him so that he fell flat. Gulo the Savage snarled, “Go then, and obey!”

Early morning sunlight dappled through the tree foliage, casting a mottled pattern of light and shadow upon a quiet waterway in the woodlands. Just as Tam and his company were about to cross it, Skipper raised a paw for silence.

Doogy whispered to the otter chieftain, “What is it, the vermin?”

Skipper shook his head. “No, mate, stop here an’ be quiet, all of ye. I’m goin’ to take a look.”

The two squirrels and the band of hares watched as Skipper slid into the water and sped off beneath its clouded surface. He was lost to sight for a few moments, then emerged further upstream, close to the bank.

Ferdimond twitched his ears in puzzlement. “What the dickens is he up to, Tam?”

The border warrior clamped a paw over the hare’s mouth. “Hush and watch! Skipper knows what he’s doin’.”

The otter floated slowly forward. Then he shot his paw into a shallow bank hole, yelling, “Gotcha, me buckoe!”

Yoofus Lightpaw’s yells were smothered by the water as he was dragged back through the stream by his tail. Skipper hauled him unceremoniously up onto the bank. “Lookit wot I just found!”

Shaking his flattened fur back into its usual untidy ruffle, the water vole smiled impudently up at Tam. “Ah, top o’ the mornin’ t’ye, Mister MacBurl, sir, an’ a grand ould day it is, t’be sure. Wasn’t I just comin’ back to the Abbey to report to yore goodself now!”

Tam whipped out his sword and placed the point at the neck of the thief. “Where’s my flag an’ my claymore? Speak or die!”

Yoofus pushed the blade away casually. “Now isn’t that a daft thing t’be sayin’! Sure, if I never spoke, an’ ye killed me, then ye’d never get yore goods back. That’s a fact, ’cos ye’d never find ’em now, would ye?”

Skipper chuckled at the little thief’s audacity. “You got to admit, he’s right there, mate!”

Yoofus switched his attention to Tam’s sword, his eyes shining with admiration and desire. “Ah, will ye look at that now! Sure that’s the grandest ould sword I ever clapped eyes on, so ’tis. I could do ye a fine trade for a blade like that!”

The border warrior’s voice left the water vole in no doubt that he had said the wrong thing. “I warn ye now, my light-pawed friend. If ye so much as look at this sword the wrong way, you’ll surely die, an’ ye have my oath on that!”

Avoiding Tam’s icy stare, Yoofus swiftly changed the subject. “Sure I’d have thought ye’d other things on yore mind than standin’ gossipin’ here like ould frogwives. D’ye not know that the great beastie an’ his crew are on the trail to attack Redwall?”

Ferdimond grabbed the front of the water vole’s tunic roughly. “How d’you know that, you flippin’ fibber?”

The volethief wriggled in the hare’s grasp. “Unpaw me, ye great lanky lolloper, that’s me favourite weskit yore ruinin’!”

Doogy squeezed the hare’s paw, making him release his grip. “Let’s hear wot the wee rascal has tae say, Ferdy.”

Yoofus straightened his tunic indignantly. “Where would you lot be without a fine creature like meself to help ye, eh? When I left Redwall, I sez t’meself, sure, an’ why not pay the ould vermin camp a visit? There might be stuff there I could pick up before I wends me way home. So, up into the trees by their camp I went. Everybeast always looks for water voles in water, but no one ever thinks o’ lookin’ up in trees for ’em. That’s the secret of me success, d’ye see.”

Skipper gave him a light cuff with his tail. “Well, I caught ye in the water. Now stop wofflin’, mate, an’ give us yore news smartish!”

Yoofus continued promptly. “Well now, the things I saw an’ heard there! The ould Gulo monster himself was madder’n a toasted toad. Didn’t he only kill about four of his own gang. Then he gave ’em all a right hard down the banks tellin’ off about wot a lazy daft lot they were. Mind you, he’s no great wisebeast himself. Gulo thinks that the banner an’ somethin’ called a walkin’ stone an’ his brother Askor are all at Redwall Abbey. Huh, a walkin’ stone, I ask ye? Well, t’cut a long story short, him an’ the other gobeens are marchin’ to the Abbey to conquer the place.”

Tam could see that Yoofus was telling the truth. “When did this all take place? Tell me quickly!”

The water vole scratched his chin. “Er, ’twould be just about dawn. I left the vermin right away. Wasn’t it meself that was on the way back to warn ye at Redwall? But now I found ye so cleverly, I can tell ye that they’re comin’ this way, an’ they’ll be crossin’ this stream afore the mornin’s much older.”

Lancejack Wilderry glanced up and down the stream. “Jolly good spot t’make a stand an’ stop ’em crossin’, wot?”

Tam was of a different opinion. “Not with the odds at two to one, they’d rush us. Give me a moment to think, mate. You take the rest back a bit an’ hide in the bushes. Skipper, Yoofus, I want a word with ye, but we’ll have to make it short. Doogy, find a lookout spot up in that elm. Let me know the instant ye can see them comin’.”

Wilderry crouched alongside Butty Wopscutt behind a wild privet. He glanced nervously ahead at the streambank. “Blinkin’ long moment MacBurl’s takin’. Wish he’d hurry up!”

The jolly corporal reassured him. “Steady, old chap. Rakkety Tam knows wot he’s doin’. Aye, an’ Skipper ain’t no duffer. An’ as fer that Yoofus, he’s sharper’n the point of a thistle. Leave it to them, buckoe. Tam’s the officer o’ the day now.”

Shard was limping hurriedly along through the woodlands with his mate Freeta and the ermine tracker Grik at his side. The main body of vermin were marching behind.

The white fox captain gritted his teeth. “Unhhh! ’Tis as though the fire is still burning my flank. I need a poultice for it.”

Grik gestured ahead. “Methinks there be water up yon, a stream mayhaps. There’ll be damp moss an’ soothin’ mud aplenty for thy wound, Captain.”

Freeta chanced a look back at the ranks behind. “Where’s the mighty Gulo, pray tell? I don’t see him.”

Gathering his tattered cloak around him, Shard winced. “Didst thou not hear him? Gulo is behind the last rank. He says he will slay anybeast who takes a rest or a backward pace. That beast has neither pity nor mercy. Yea, he is truly named the Savage. I hope somebeast slides a blade twixt his ribs whilst he sleeps!”

The ermine tracker kept his face on the trail ahead. “I’ll pretend I never heard thee, Captain. Gulo is too strong and fierce for anybeast among us to bring him down. He lives an’ thrives on the blood of others.”

Freeta beckoned the tracker forward. “See if thou canst find the stream, Grik.”

When the tracker was far enough ahead of the two foxes, Freeta murmured, “The great sword thou took from the Abbeymaid, I wager Gulo could be felled by such a blade.”

Shard, still rankling at his injuries and seething with hatred for Gulo, muttered, “Aye, an’ twill be the first thing I’ll seek once we are within the Redwall place!”

The vixen motioned him to silence as Grik came loping back. “I was right, the stream is not far, Captain!”

The rest of the vermin were right behind Shard as he reached the streambank. He limped into the shallows, about to bend and drink the water, when a sharp, growling voice from the shrubbery on the opposite side roared out, “Where is my brother Gulo?”

Shard’s paw shot down to the curved sword at his side. A javelin whizzed out of the bushes, causing the white fox captain to fall with a splash, the weapon protruding from his neck. Foxes and ermine pushing from behind stumbled to a halt in the crimsoning waters, shocked by the rough shout from the concealment of the other bank.

“Gulo! Where is Gulo?”

The wolverine leader came dashing forward, knocking aside his creatures who were trying to back off from the stream. Having heard the voice, Gulo called back, “Askor, I cannot see thee!”

A snarling reply echoed back at him. “Aye, but I see thee, brother!”

Ever quick in action, Gulo could move surprisingly fast for one of his bulk and size. He saw the foliage rustle and grabbed an ermine that had its back to him. Shoving the unlucky beast in front of him, Gulo saw the point of a second javelin emerge from the ermine’s back. He dropped flat with the dead vermin on top of him. Heavy slingstones whipped by overhead, one or two of them finding targets among the confused vermin ranks. Then there was silence.

Gulo flung aside the slain beast he had used as a shield. Scrambling up, he saw the bushes rustle and heard the pounding of retreating paws from the other side of the stream. He quickly shouted out orders to his vermin gang. “East, they are going east. Ford this water an’ follow them!”

Zerig, one of Gulo’s fox captains, led the band into the water. They waded warily across, expecting another salvo of missiles at any moment.

Gulo thrust Shard’s body callously to one side as he followed on, roaring, “Get Askor! I will reward the beast who brings me his head!”

Gulo’s warriors ran through the leafy woodlands giving chase, but they were not charging headlong. Nobeast wanted to be among the first to encounter another wolverine. Gulo was fast, but not as quick on the run as the more agile ermine and foxes of his command. When he caught up with the main band, he saw that they had stopped. Grik the tracker was bent over the trail, studying it. Although Gulo’s first impulse was to kick the ermine and urge the others forward faster, he refrained from doing so; he had never been fond of prolonged rushing. With his own sides heaving, Gulo just stood over the tracker. “Well?”

Grik straightened up and made report of his observations. “Lord, they number only fifty, an’ they are running east. But here, see, three have cut off to the north.”

Captain Zerig backed off a touch from the panting wolverine. “That is why we awaited thy orders, Mighty One.”

Gulo did not have Shard to counsel him, but he was not above making the effort to think for himself. The vermin leader called Zerig to one side. “Only fifty, eh? Then these are my orders. Zerig, thou wilt take half of my force to the Redwall place. Try to gain entrance there by night, but do not charge it. I will follow my brother and these others.”

Zerig saluted with his spear. “And the three who went north, sire, what about them?”

Gulo made a quick decision. “Send Dirig and three others after them. Tell him to try and take them alive. Go!”

The three who had gone north—Doogy, Ferdimond and Yoofus—had halted in an open space. It was pleasant, with short, bright green grass dotted about with patches of moss.

The hare twiddled his ears at Doogy. “I wonder how many vermin are followin’ us, wot?”

The Highlander found a stone to hone his blades. “Ah’ve no idea, Ferdy. There may be none if they never spotted our trail. Ask that wee scamp, ’twas his plan.”

Yoofus was busy making an acquaintance with Doogy’s Sgian Dhu, polishing the blade lovingly. “Ah sure, don’t get yore ears in a twist, Ferdy me ould son. Those vermin aren’t bad trackers, if’n ye leave ’em a plain enough sign. Well, ’tis meself that laid the tracks, so the daft scum’ll be along soon, ye can rely on it. Doogy darlin’, what’s a grand strong warrior like yoreself doin’, carryin’ a little toy knife like this now?”

The Highlander snatched his blade back. “Ye thievin’ wee maggot, keep those fiddledy paws off mah Sgian Dhu! Anyhow, what are we hangin’ aboot here for?”

Yoofus wrinkled his snout comically. “We’re layin’ a trap, ye fuzzy-tailed omadorm.”

Doogy sheathed the small blade in his cap. “A trap, in this pretty wee clearin’?”

Yoofus nodded sagely. “Right enough, I know this neck o’ the woods well. Y’see that pretty wee clearin’, as y’call it? Well, ye’d be advised to stay away from it. Ah, I’m wastin’ me breath on the likes o’ you two, the vermin’ll be here soon. Listen, why don’t ye go an’ hide behind that big ould log yonder? Go on, off with ye! When the vermin arrive, don’t make a sound, just sit an’ watch the fun. Now I’m off on a secret route, known only to the greatest thief in Mossflower, that’s meself. I’ll see ye anon.”

The volethief vanished off among some willows to the right. Taking his advice, Doogy and Ferdimond sat down behind a huge, rotten beech trunk which had fallen many seasons back.

Ferdy flicked a wood beetle from his footpaw. “I say, what d’you suppose that Yoofus chap is up to, wot?”

“Don’t ask me, mate, just check your paws’n’whiskers tae make sure he’s no’ robbed ’em. Hist! Here they come!”

The ermine Dirig halted at the clearing edge, remarking to the other three ermine as he scanned the ground, “The tracks end here. Take a look aro . . . oooww!” A well-aimed slingstone bounced off his snout.

Yoofus Lightpaw stood at the other side of the glade, waving cheerily at them. “Now then, ye stinkin’ deadnettles, I can smell ye from here. Wait’ll I tell yore mammies about ye not takin’ a bath, ye filthy ould reprobates. Sure here’s another stone. I won’t be wantin’ it back, it’ll be contagious once it’s hit ye!”

He whipped another pebble off, catching an ermine on the ear, and a swift third shot numbed the other ermine’s paw. Seeing the impudent little water vole, jigging about and laughing as he fitted another pebble to his sling, sent the ermine into a howling rage. Drawing their weapons, they dashed forward, roaring, “Chaaaaarge! Kill! Kill!”

Their view being blocked by the tree trunk, Doogy and Ferdimond hurried out to see what was happening. But there was no sign of the foebeasts, apparently they had vanished.

Yoofus called over to them. “Stand right where y’are, mates. I’ll be with ye in a tick!”

True to his words, before long the water vole emerged from the willows, laughing at their astonishment. “Heeheehee, you should see yore faces. Well, did ye like me trick? Sure ’twas grand, wasn’t it? Go on now, ye loved it!”

For a moment Doogy raised his eyes to the sky, as if expecting to see the vermin there. Then the whole thing dawned upon him. “Och, ye canny wee rascal, ye lured ’em intae a swamp!”

Ferdimond gazed dumbfounded at the tranquil green glade. “Good grief, is that really a blinkin’ swamp?”

Yoofus flicked a pebble into it. There was a faint plop, and then the small stone was lost to view forever. “Oh, ’tis a swamp alright, mate. I nearly lost me life in it one time, when I was about yore age. Don’t let it fool ye like it fooled the ould vermin. If’n ye took four paces from where we stand, straight ahead, nobeast’d ever know where ye vanished to, that’s a fact. Ah well, ’tis a good job I knew me way around it. Come on now, I promised Skipper we’d meet up with him an’ the others at the water meadows where me friends the Guosim live.”

Doogy carefully backed away from the deceptively calm clearing. “Guosim? What’s Guosim?”

The water vole threw up his paws in despair. “Do ye know nothin’ at all? Guosim are a grand ould tribe o’ shrews. Their name tells it all. Take the first letter of each word—Guerilla Union Of Shrews In Mossflower. Guosim. That’s what it stands for, ye fluffy-tailed clod!”

Ferdimond adopted a superior air. “Guosim, eh? I’ve heard of ’em, old lad, never seen one o’ the blighters, though.”

Yoofus beckoned them onward. “Ah well, ’tis meself who’ll have to further yore eddication. Follow me!”

It was past high noon. The Highlander and the hare had to hurry to keep up with the water vole as he led them through the vast woodlands on a tortuous route.

Ferdimond was prone to grumbling, as is the case with hungry hares. “Strewth, I’m bally well famished! Doesn’t this chap ever stop for a mouthful o’ scoff?”

Doogy, who possessed a healthy appetite, was in agreement with his friend. “Aye, ah could manage a wee gobful o’ vittles mahself.”

Yoofus glanced back at them in mock pity. “Will ye listen to yoreselves! Famished, is it? Hah, if I was carryin’ half the fat youse two have between ye, I’d be hard put t’stand up straight. Stay quiet now, there’s the bulrushes ahead. Stick close t’me.”

Yoofus threw back his head and gave forth with a long ululating call. “Logalogalogalooooog!”

Doogy tapped his shoulder. “Ah thought ye told us tae be quiet, an’ yore makin’ enough racket tae wake a stone!”

The volethief shushed him as an answering call came back at them. “Logalogalogalogaloooooog!” Four Guosim shrew warriors—small, scruffy-furred beasts—emerged from the tall reeds and bulrushes. Each one wore a brightly coloured bandanna tied around his brow and had on a waistcoat plus a broad-buckled belt through which was thrust a short rapier.

The eldest shrew, a tough-looking patriarch with a trim grey beard, shook tails with Yoofus, who grinned cheerily. “Ah, ’tis me ould friend Log a Log Togey. Have ye any more liddle grandshrews since I last met ye?”

Togey patted his ample stomach. “Two score an’ two at the last count, mate, but there’ll be more by summer. How would ye like feedin’ as many mouths as that, eh?”

He eyed Doogy and Ferdimond, then smiled a welcome. “Yore mates are all here. Come this way, but be careful where ye put yore paws. My water meadows are well booby-trapped, as the vermin have found out!”

Water squished from the marshy reed margin as they filed along behind Log a Log Togey. Doogy’s paw shot to his claymore as he glimpsed the coat of an ermine through the tangle of reeds.

One of the younger shrews assured him, “Save yore blade, mate. That ’un’s a dead ’un, see?” He drew back the jumble of vegetation, revealing a drowned ermine with a hefty log hiding its head.

The young shrew winked at Doogy. “They always fall for the seesawin’ log trick. Step on one end, an’ the other end swings up an’ belts ’em. Step over that tripcord—ye see it, that thing wot looks like a thick weed? Yore a goner if ye put a footpaw on that!”

The Highlander did not trouble the shrew for an explanation of the tripcord’s workings but made sure to avoid it studiously.

They mounted a disguised jetty as the reeds thinned out, where a long narrow Guosim logboat was waiting.

Ferdimond gazed around at the water meadows. “I say, this is a jolly nice place. Goin’ for a paddle, are we?”

They sat in the logboat as Guosim shrews plied their oars expertly through the mighty maze of small islands, reedbeds and weeping willows. Doogy had never seen anything so magical or pretty. Huge water lilies and spikes of milfoil carpeted the surface; dragonflies with iridescent wings and pastel-hued butterflies were everywhere. Ferdimond trailed his paw in the water until a shrew cautioned him, “Pike swim round here, mate!”

The logboat nosed gently beneath a bower of overhanging willows, which hemmed three low islands at the centre of the water meadows. The Guosim oarsmen tied up the logboat at a massive deck of floating logs spanning the inner pool. From beneath leafy awnings, their friends emerged to greet them.

Tam waved to Doogy. “Well, look what the breeze blew in! Did ye smell the food cookin’, Doogy Plumm?”

Scrambling from the logboat, Doogy returned the wry greeting. “Aye, ah did, so ah hurried here afore some Border beastie ate it all up. How are ye, mate?”

Tam spread his paws expressively. “Oh, still livin’ the hard old life an’ knockin’ myself about. And you?”

Doogy shrugged. “Didn’t even get the chance tae draw mah blade. Lost four vermin in a swamp, though. Hi there, mate!”

Butty Wopscutt was bouncing a shrewbabe on his lap. “Mister Plumm, I’ve saved ye a place over here.”

Guosim cooks served everybeast a fine meal. There was a delicious watercress soup, followed by watershrimp dumplings and watermeadow salad, with apple and rhubarb crumble for dessert—all this topped off with hazelnuts, Guosim cheese and shrewbeer, which was dark, foamy and slightly sweet-tasting.

Ferdimond sat back with a satisfied sigh. “First-rate tuck, wot! A chap couldn’t grumble at scoff of that bloomin’ quality, eh Yoofus?”

Picking his teeth with a bulrush spike, the volethief nodded. “Sure ’twas a grand ould spread. Me stummick rejoiced at it!”

Ferdimond made his report to Tam and Skipper, telling them of how Yoofus led the vermin into the swamp.

Then the otter chieftain related the progress made by the main force. “When they were chasin’ us, I thought of these water meadows. We were in the area, so I led ’em on, knowin’ how much me ole mate Togey loves vermin.”

The Guosim chieftain banged his tankard down. “As long as I’m Log a Log, there’ll be no vermin scum comin’ into my territory to loot an’ murder. My ole dad was slain by vermin, an’ two of my brothers, but that was in the days when I was only a shrewlet. From wot Tam tells me o’ that brute Gulo an’ his crew, I say ’tis a crime to let the sun rise on such rotten villains. Eatin’ otherbeasts? The filthy, dirty cannibals. Ugh! It don’t bear thinkin’ about. They need t’be wiped from the face o’ the land. Pity we only slew six of ’em today!”

Tam tapped the tabletop with his dirk blade. “Aye, even Gulo the Savage retreated from those reeds once he saw how things were goin’. I wonder where he is now.”

Log a Log Togey put aside a shrewbabe who was trying to chew at his beard. “We’ll find out soon enough when my scouts bring word. So, what’s the next move?”

Tam gestured with a sweep of his blade. “Tell me, what other foes do ye have in the neighbourhood?”

The Guosim chieftain frowned thoughtfully. “Plenty I could think of, Tam. That’s why us Guosim are born fighters—we have to defend our land an’ our families. Let me see now, there’s the marshland toads an’ lizards over to the east. A band o’ River Rats, though they usually never stop in one place. . . .”

A young shrew wife, who was nursing a sleeping babe, spoke up. “What about those black birds in the pine groves? They’re a bunch of robbin’ murderers! Sometimes you can’t leave a little ’un out in the open when those savages are about!”

Togey smoothed his beard. “Oh yes, the crows an’ rooks. We don’t mess with them, only when they fly over the meadows lookin’ for prey. Then we gets out the bows’n’arrows to drive ’em off.”

A plan began forming in Tam’s mind. “Where are the pine groves, Togey?”

The Log a Log pointed southeast. “About a day’s march over that way. Guosim keep clear o’ the pines, there’s just too many of those big black birds. If ye wandered around in that area, they’d think ye was out to rob their nests an’ attack ye. I tell ye, there’d be little chance o’ gettin’ out o’ the pine groves alive!”

Tam grinned wolfishly. “Right, that’s what we’ll do then!”

Yoofus looked aghast. “Ye mean, go into the pine groves?”

It was Doogy’s turn to look superior. “Och, ye wee pudden-headed robber! Lissen now, an’ get yore own eddication completed. Rakkety Tam MacBurl’s got a braw brain for plannin’. Tell him, mate!”

The border squirrel outlined his scheme. “We’ve got to get Gulo to take his vermin into those pine groves. He doesn’t know about the big black birds.”

The slap of Skipper’s rudder was audible upon the log deck. “Great streams’n’rivers, matey. ’Tis a masterful plan!”

Tam disentangled a shrewbabe from his footpaws and stood up. “Maybe it is, but it needs more thought yet. I’m goin’ to put my mind to it, an’ anybeast who comes up with a workable idea, well, I’d be pleased to listen to it.”

Evening drew softly over the water meadows, bringing the warm spring day to a close. Guosim logboats, plied by sentries, patrolled the area. Lanterns lit the covered boardwalk as everybeast took their ease. Shrewparents laid their little ones down to slumber in wicker cradles which were suspended from the thatched ceiling. Guosim warriors and Long Patrol fighters sat swapping yarns and sipping shrewbeer. Log a Log Togey’s eldest daughter strummed on a stringed instrument, called a shrewbec, accompanying herself to a lullaby.

“When the sun slips o’er the treetops,

then small birds fly off to nest.

Feel the peace lie on the meadows,

’tis a time that I love best.

Slumber on, little one,

I am ever near.

Drowsily, lean on me,

dream small dreams, my dear.

All the jewelled stars a-twinkle,

watch the clouds drift through the night.

Sail upon thy boat of dreaming,

to the rays of dawning’s light.

Slumber on, day is gone,

by thy side I’ll lay.

Fear no harm, rest in calm,

’til the golden day.”

Doogy yawned as he remarked to Yoofus, “Och, ye could live here forever with no’ a thing tae bother ye.”

He was about to continue eulogising when he saw that the water vole was snoring peacefully. The Highlander chuckled. “Just like a thief, eh? Stolen off tae sleep!”

Ferdimond had a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at the little curmudgeon. I say, I’ve just thought of a super wheeze. See that empty cradle hanging over yonder?”

Skipper caught on right away, grinning broadly. “Good idea, Ferdy. Come on Doogy, Butty . . . lend a paw over here, will ye!”

The four companions carefully lifted the sleeping water vole. They tippawed over the log floor, carrying Yoofus between them, and laid him gently into the hanging cradle. The little thief snuffled a bit but carried on slumbering.

Doogy added a humourous touch by sliding a shrewdolly between his paws and a shrewbabe’s bonnet upon his head. “Och, doesn’t the wee darlin’ look sweet? Ah’ve never seen such a bonny bairn, the robbin’ wee scruffbag!”

Tam, who had been sitting outside, suddenly came striding in. “I’ve got it! Listen, here’s the plan for tomorrow. . . .”