Marlfox

Song eyed Burble curiously. "How so?"

The little fat creature shook with unconcealed glee. " 'Cos I tricked 'im! When that ole barrelbelly wakes up 'e'll find 'imself clutchin' a stew ladle in 'is paws, not a Leafwood. Yiss yiss, I pinched it back off 'im. Yore Leafwood is inside that sack o' grub I fetched wid me. Heeheehee!"

Song looked sternly at the watervole. "That was very wrong, Burble. Gray One deceived the tribe, but we kept our part of the bargain. Now we've got double trouble!"

Dawnlight had begun filtering over the river in a pale wash of cerise and gold when a cry rang out faintly from behind them, echoing down the tree-shaded banks.

" Waaaaylaaahoooo!"

Burble's chubby face blanched with fright. "River'eads! Paddle for yore lives, pals!"

"But I thought this Swallow could outrun anythin' on the river?" Dann called out as they wielded their paddles furiously.

Burble blew spray from his face. "Mebbe, but they got eight rowers to a boat, an' River'ead voles know these waters a lot better'n you do, squirrel. They'll take every shortcut, fast current an' riverdodge the Gray One can think of. Look for a cutoff. We gotta get off the mainstream!"

Bending their backs, the four young creatures labored at their paddles, mouths wide open as they sucked in air, every muscle and sinew of their bodies throbbing with strain. Behind them the cries of the Riverhead voles grew louder. They were getting closer, gaining on the Swallow with their riverskills and greater numbers. Shaking perspiration and riverwater from his eyes, Dann gestured with his chin, nodding forward to a spot farther upriver on the south bank.

"Looks like a sidestream ahead up yonder!" he gasped out.

But the watervole did not seem to fancy the idea. "No no, not that 'un. 'Tis a dead end, I think, full o' slime an' gnats. "Twould be stupid to go up there, Dann!"

"Waaaaylaaaahoooo! Death to boat-robbers!"

Song chanced a quick glance back up the river, her mind made up. "Head toward that sidestream before they come round the bend and sight us. If 'tis a stupid idea to hide up a slimy dead end then mayhap they won't look there. Don't argue, just do it!"

As they cut across the stream, Burble scattered some supplies from his sack, bread and clay dishes, into the water. "They'll find those in the rapids downstream. P'raps they'll think we was wrecked. Duck yore 'eads an' ship those paddles!"

Weeds, tall rushes and overhanging bush raked their backs as the Swallow glided into the cutoff. The water was dark, murky and fetid; gnats, mosquitoes and all manner of winged pests shrouded the four fugitives. Dippler grabbed some bulrushes and held the boat still. Sloppy green water vegetation swirled briefly on the surface and then settled again, as if no boat had ever disturbed it. Song's heart was pounding like a triphammershe was sure it could be heard if anybeast passed too close. Fighting to get their breathing under control, they flattened themselves in the well of the Swallow. Dippler slapped at a large flying beetle that was trying to settle on his face. Dann shot him a warning glance, and then they heard the Riverhead tribe. It sounded as if they had a dozen or more boats out in pursuit. Old Gray One was in the lead craft, directing them.

"Waaaaylaaaahoooo! Straight ahead, they can't outrun us much longer. Bend yore backs, River'eads, keep t'the middle current!"

"Yiss yiss, but we ain't sighted 'em yet. Wot if they've shot off up'n sidewater, like that'n o'er there?"

"Arr, don't talk daft, vole, they got'n a Guosim shrew wid 'em. That'n 'ud know enough not t'do anythin' so silly. Cain't y'see, 'tis a dead end up there? Has bin fer many a long season!"

"Mebbe we'll overtake 'em at the rapids. Even Guosim shrews ain't so crafty when it comes ter rocks'n'rapids, eh?"

"Aye, y'could be right there. Wait'll I gits me paws on 'em, an' that liddle turnfur Burble. I'll beat 'is brains out wid the Leafwood afore I toss 'im into the rapids wid 'is thievin' friends. Yiss yiss!"

"Flamin' cheek of 'em, stealin' our Swallow like that!"

"Pirates, that's wot they are, matey, river pirates!"

"Well, mark me word, they'll suffer the same fate as any pirate would. Onward, River'eads, straight course ahead now!"

The shouts died away on the still air as the Riverhead tribe paddled downstream. Dann sat up and began slapping at the winged pests that assailed him. "Gerroff! Leave me alone, you rotten villains!"

A big insect flew right into Song's eye, so hard that it caused her to see colored stars. Dippler was tearing at his fur, moaning, "We musta been mad comin' in 'ere to 'ide!"

The boat rocked as Burble performed a little dance. "Ouchouch! I'm bein' et alive! Back out onto the river!"

Song squinched her eye, rubbing hard with a sweaty paw. "No, we can't go out there. 'Twouldn't be long before we'd be running right into the back of them. Let's go a bit farther up this creek. Maybe it won't be as bad farther along."

Swatting and slapping at the insect hordes, they dug paddles into the muddy creekbed and poled the Swallow south up the vile-smelling inlet.

At midmorning they called a halt. Though there were still a few insects about, most of the myriad from the creek mouth had given up following the four friends. Shipping the paddles, they looked around. Fungus bedecked and pulp-soft, dead trees lay across the creek, preventing them from going any farther. The water was black and peaty, with odd bubbles rising here and there, leaving a foul odor hovering in the air. In the bank shallows on one side there was a riot of blue flowers, bit scabious, brooklime, butterwort and skullcap sprouting thick. Dippler moored the Swallow midships to a slender sessile oak on the shaded side of the creek. Song and Burble unpacked apples, some scones and a flagon of cold dandelion and burdock cordial that had been stowed deep in her haversack. Wearily they hauled themselves onto the mossy bank and began eating, groaning as they stretched aching backs.

"Ooh, me paws'll never be the same again after grippin' that paddle so tight, mates. I can 'ardly pick me beaker up!"

Dippler winked at the watervole. "Leave it there then, Burb, an' I'll drink it for ye!"

Dann polished an apple on his tunic. "Whew! That was a narrow escape earlier. Those Riverheads wouldn't 'ave accepted any excuses. We'd be deadbeasts now if they'd caught us!"

Burble lifted the beaker in his cramped paws. "Oh yiss yiss, that's true, pal. Ole Gray One's missin' both the Swallow an' 'is Leafwood. There'll be no mercy in that'n's 'eart!"

Song bathed her eye with a drop of the cool cordial. "No, I don't imagine there would be. Why did you do it, Burble?"

The watervole made a derisory gesture with one paw. "Yah, that ole Gray'n was far too big fer 'is coat. River'eads never 'ad one leader, just a council, but he appointed hisself 'ead of the council an' now 'e calls hisself Chieftain. 'Tain't right. Gray One was alius a cheat an' a liar. Bullied 'is way in, 'e did. Miss Song, 'ere's yore Leafwood. Take care of it."

The young squirrel caught the greenstone-topped stick Burble tossed to her. She looked at it pensively. "All that trouble just for this. Strange, isn't it? Last night we were the best of friends with the Riverheads, this mornin' they're out for our blood. All because of a boat an' a stick."

Dann made a pillow of his haversack and lay back. "Great seasons, but 'tis warm hereabouts, heavy like. Ah well, if we must wait here till the coast's clear I'm goin' to get a bit of shut-eye. See if you can't keep yore debatin' down to a dull roar, will you, mates."

Dippler tossed an apple core into the water. "Good idea, Dann, but don't snore, it keeps me awake."

Song flicked a drop of cordial at the young shrew. "Listen who's talking, the champion snorer of Redwall!"

Dippler opened one eye, murmuring sleepily, "Oh, spare me, missie, I'm only a Dibbun compared to you at snorin'!"

Before another half hour had passed, all four were curled up on the mossy bank, deep in slumber and snoring gently.