An' what if an otter could dance with a trout,
He'd stay in the river an' never come out.
Pray tell me whatever they'd all think o' me,
Inviting a bumblebee in for its tea?
Why they'd come in and join us for goodness' sake,
For scones an' trifle an' blueberry cake,
Elderflow'r cordial an' strawberry pie,
Oh turn caterpillar to bright butterfly!"
Burble stubbed his footpaw on a stone, which did not improve his argumentative mood. "Tchah! 'Edge'ogs'n' squirrels'n'bumblebees eatin' cake an' suppin' cordial together? Don't make much sense, do it? Yowch! D'yer mind not walkin' on the backs o' me footpaws, missie!"
"Sorry, Burb, and I'm sorry you didn't like my song. 'Tis only an old nonsense ditty my Grandma Ellayo used t'sing to me."
The watervole trudged on unappeased. "Ho yiss yiss, 'tis nonsense all right, no mistakin' that. Grr! Listen, mister wasp, keep away from my nose or I'll eat ye!"
Dann could not restrain himself from laughing at Burble. "Chattin' to wasps now, Burb? Come on, you old grouch, let's see if you can sing us a song that makes sense."
Burble sniffed. "All watervole songs make sense. Lissen.
"A watervole grows like an ould bulrush stalk,
An' learns to swim afore 'e can walk,
Just give 'im a paddle an' lend 'im a boat,
There's nought as nice as a vole wot's afloat.
Go ruggle yore tookle an' rowgle yer blot,
Come floogle yore wattle an' pickle yer swot!
A watervole's clever'n'smart an' he's nice,
'E won't take a boat out onto the ice,
But 'e'll live all 'is life in a comfy ould cave,
An' when 'e dies it'll do fer 'is grave.
So twangle me gurdle an' griddle me twogg,
Right burgle me doodle an' frumple me plogg!"
Dippler tried to keep a straight face as he nodded wisely. "Burgle me doodle an' frumple me plogg? Makes perfect sense. Wot d'you think, Dann?"
A deep booming voice that did not belong to Dann rang out. "Hohohoho! Now I've seen everything a singin' boat! Hoohoohoo!"
The four friends whipped the Sivallow off their heads to see who it was.
The hugest, fattest, most spiky hedgehog that any of them had ever seen was lying in an immense hammock, slung between a beech and an elm. Spikes and quills stuck through the coarse canvas of the hammock, making it look like a monstrous pincushion. He had two baskets, one on either side of the hammock, containing wild grapes and almonds. In his paw he brandished a giant mallet to crack the nuts with, and this he waved cheerily at the travelers.
"Good noontide to ye. Fancy some grapes? A few nuts, mebbe? Come sit an' rest yoreselves, pore liddle waifs!"
Song smiled and waved back prettily to him, commenting to the others, "We could do with a rest. What d'you say, pore liddle waifs?"
With a grunt and a groan the big hedgehog heaved himself out of the hammock and bowed politely. "I go by the name o' Soil. Full name's Sollertree, 'cos I'm the only 'edge'og in these parts. Now wot be yore given names, me liddle h'infants?"
Song introduced herself and her friends. "I'm Song, he's Dann and that's Burble and Dippler. Excuse me, sir, but shouldn't your name be Solitary?"
The big fellow waved a paw airily. "Solitary, Sollertree, wot difference, pretty one, save that Sollertree's the name I gave meself, an' I like it fine. Come, sit ye down on my 'ammock. A more comfy berth y'never found, eh?"
They sat on the hammock's edge, gently swinging back and forth. Apart from the odd spike that had to be removed from the canvas, they all agreed it was very comfortable. Soil smiled with pleasure.
"H'ideal, h'ideal! Now, you 'elp yoreselves to grapes while I crack some almonds for ye. Grow 'em all meself, nothin' better fer puttin' a twinkle to yore eye an' a point to yore spikes."
The grapes were delicious, small but plump and juicy. Soil sat on a treestump, lining almonds up and popping them gently with his giant mallet.
"Isn't it lonely, mister Soil, living alone in the midst of the woods with nobeast for company?" Dann asked.
Soli passed them a great pawful of kernels, raising his bushy brows. "Lonely, wot's lonely? Great shells'n'vines, 'ow could a body get lonely round 'ere, liddle bushtail? I got birds t'sing fer me, sunshine, showers, fresh breezes t'ruffle the hair o' my lovely trees, clear water t'drink . . . Oh, an' Croikle, too!" He reached down by the side of the stump and a small green frog hopped onto his platelike paw. Soli grinned happily. "Croikle, these are me new friends. Bid 'em good noontide, will ye?"
The frog's tiny green throat bulged out. "Croikle!"
This seemed to amuse Soli greatly. "Hohohoho! 'Tis all 'e ever says. Croikle! An' who pray could argue wid that? Lissen t'this. Yore a great fierce beast who's slayed thousands, aren't you, mate?"
The frog gazed at him with its small golden eyes. "Croikle!"
Soli laughed until his spikes rattled, and the four travelers could not resist laughing along with the simple-hearted giant. He passed them more almonds and grapes. "See, my friend's never in a bad mood, never argues or grizzles. Go on, ask 'im a question."
Dippler winked at the little frog. "Soil tells me you ate four barrels o' grapes'n'almonds. True?"
The frog turned its gaze on the Guosim shrew as if it had heard his question and was considering the answer. Then it spoke. "Croikle!"
Soil nearly fell off his treestump laughing. "Hohohoohoohoo! 'E said it weren't four barrels, 'twas six!"
He encouraged the others to question his frog, commenting each time the tiny creature croaked. Song, Dann and Burble took turns.
"Tell me, sir, where d'you sleep at night?"
"Croikle!"
"Well I never. 'E said that 'e kicks me out o' my 'ammock an' sleeps there every night. Hoohoohoohoo!"
"Is it true that frogs like to swim in the stream?"
"Croikle!"
"Wot, swim, says 'e, never! I've got me own liddle boat, he says, mister Soil made it outta an almond shell. Hohohoho!"
"Sir, you look like a fine singer, would you sing us a song?"
"Croikle!"
"Did you 'ear that? 'E just sang 'is favorite song, the shortest one ever written. My my, wot a clever frog. Hohohohoohoo!"
The banter went back and forth until noon shadows began to lengthen. Song was enjoying herself, but she thought it was time they made ready to depart. Soil was busy crushing a grape, removing the pips and feeding it to Croikle as she explained it all to him, but he nodded his head understandingly. "Fear not, liddle 'uns, 'tis all clear to ole Soil. You want to find the stream goin' south so's you can go a-sailin' in yore liddle boat. Now, 'twill take you best part o' two days carryin' the vessel, but lissen t'me, my dearies. I'll carry yore boat an' take you on a shortcut that'll 'ave you onstream in a single day. So rest you now in my 'ome for tonight, an' we'll start out bright'n'early on the morrow. Yes?"
The reply was eagerly given by the friends. "Oh yes please, mister Soli!"
The hedgehog's dwelling was a long jumble of stone slabs, timber, branches and mud chinking built into the side of a rock ledge. It was very homely and comfortable inside, once Soli had stirred up the fire embers and fed them with wood and sweet-smelling peat clumps. Evening cast its calm cool spell over all, and the four friends lounged around the fire while Soli stirred a cauldron of vegetable soup, which stood on a tripod over the glow. Keeping his soft brown eyes upon the task, he began telling of his life.
"I lived 'ere all me life. There were three of us, my goodwife Beechtipp, me liddle daughter Nettlebud an' meself. Ah dearie me, it do seem a long time ago now. Anyhow, it was on a misty autumn time, I'll never forget it. I'd trekked back t'the river seekin' russet apples, as there was none 'ereabouts. Thought I might get a russet saplin' to plant outside our door, so's we could grow our own. Well, on the second day out it came on to storm, when 'twas too far t'make it back 'ome. So I made a shelter on the riverbank below the rapids an' sat it out for three days. Then I returned 'ere, laden wi' apples an' a fine young saplin' tree."