I seized hold of his tail an’ gave him such a shake,
that the adder became a subtracter!
If there’s ever a chance for a row or a fight,
I’ll battle all day an’ long into the night,
an’ put all those baggy-nosed vermin to flight,
that’s providin’ I’m home for me dinner!
I got home last night an’ me mammy did say,
‘Have you been out scrappin’ the whole livelong day?’
She spanked me young tail in her ould-fashioned way,
an’ sent me off to bed with no supper!”
30
The fire had burned low, and the young dormice were asleep. Lupinia Muskar picked up her broom, then sighed and cast it aside. “I’ll make a start on the cleaning tomorrow. Oh, for a peaceful night’s rest without vermin belching and snoring all around us! Thank you both, I don’t know what we’d have done without your help. If there’s ever anything me or my family can do for you, then just ask.”
Doogy rolled himself in his plaid cloak by the embers. “Mayhaps ye could tell me the way tae Redwall Abbey, marm. We’ll be headin’ for there after we’ve visited Yoofus’s wife at their home on the morrow.”
Mister Muskar pointed. “It’s two days’ journey downstream. There’s a raft just upstream that belonged to the vermin. You can take it and sail most of the way. When you see the rapids at the big east bend, leave the raft and walk west into the woodlands. You’ll sight Redwall after a while.”
Yoofus had settled down in a comfy old armchair. “A raft, ye say? That’ll be grand, I like rafts.”
Doogy was about to drop off when something occurred to him. “By the bye, Yoofus, have ye seen the big drum around? Ah’d almost forgotten about it.”
The water vole yawned. “Oh, that ould thing. The vermin left it outside on the streambank ’cos there was no room in here. Don’t ye fret, Doogy mate, ’twill still be there in the mornin’. Sleep tight now.”
No longer held hostage by the vermin, they all slumbered peacefully in the calm, homely warmth.
Shortly before dawn, Doogy was wakened by one of the young dormice. “Sir, where’s your friend, Mister Lightpaw? He’s not here.”
The Highlander sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Not here, laddie? Then where’s the rascal gone, eh?”
The young dormouse had no idea, so Doogy arose and went out to the streambank to look. He was back inside immediately, girding on his numerous weapons.
Lupinia Muskar was rekindling the fire to cook breakfast. She noted the concern on Doogy’s face. “Mr. Plumm, what is it? Is something the matter?”
The Highlander clapped a paw to his belt. “Mah travellin’ companion’s decamped, marm. Aye, an’ he’s taken the big drum an’ mah dirk, too!”
She roused her husband. “Muskar, go with Mister Plumm. See if you can find his friend. Hurry, dear!”
The dormouse blinked sleep from his eyes. “Come on, sir, we’ll find him. He can’t have gone far.”
But Muskar’s opinion proved incorrect when he drew back a screen of bushes upstream. “Oh dear, it looks like Mister Lightpaw has sailed off on the raft. He’s probably heading home.”
Doogy set his jaw grimly. “D’ye know where he lives, sir?”
Muskar nodded upstream. “Mister Lightpaw has a home up that way, on the edge of a pond. I’ve been there before.”
In no mood for chitchat, Doogy grabbed the dormouse’s paw. “Aye, well ye can show me the way. Come on, Muskar. Ah’m wantin’ tae have a wee chat wi’ that saucy robber!”
“Robber!” Muskar echoed in shocked tones. “Do you mean to tell me that Mister Lightpaw’s a robber?”
The Highlander yanked the dormouse energetically along the streambank, muttering fiercely, “Aye, a robber, thief, pilferer, purloiner, looter! Call him what ye will. Yoofus steals anythin’ that comes tae paw. He’d have the eyes oot o’ yer head if’n ye weren’t watchin’ him!”
Muskar Muskar looked bewildered. “Good grief, who’d have thought it! Mister Lightpaw, a thief. And he seemed such a nice and jolly sort.”
Doogy smiled in spite of himself. “Och, it just goes tae show, ye never know who’s livin’ in the area nowadays, eh?”
They followed the streambank, then cut off west. As soon as Doogy and Muskar came in sight of the lake, they immediately spotted Yoofus outside his dwelling, busily polishing the sides of the big drum. Every now and then he would strike the drum a few taps with a stick he had gripped in his thick little tail.
His wife Didjety came out to complain. “Will ye stop beltin’ that great thing, it’s drivin’ me scatty! Yore like a babby with a new toy, so y’are.”
Yoofus gave the drum a few more raps. “Ah sure, ye’ve got no ear for music at all, me little sugar plum. Will ye just hark t’that grand boom!”
He was striking the drum again as his visitors walked up. The volethief showed neither apprehension nor surprise at the sight of Doogy. “Faith, an’ wasn’t I just sayin’ to meself that me good mate Doogy Plumm’d be along soon. I’d an idea that ould Muskar knew the way, so I was sure he’d bring ye. Will ye not listen t’the great boom o’ this drum. ’Tis a sound for heroes an’ warriors, so ’tis!”
Didjety greeted Muskar before questioning her husband. “Who’s that serious-lookin’ squirrel, a friend of yores?”
Yoofus gave the drum a resounding roll with his stick. “That he is, me darlin’, a true blue pal in all weathers. Why don’t ye take Mister Muskar inside an’ put the kettle on for some nice mint tea? Meself an’ Mister Plumm have business t’talk. We’ll join ye in a tick.”
The moment they were alone, Doogy spoke in a flat, dangerous voice. “Where’s mah dirk?”
Yoofus smiled disarmingly. “Dirk? Isn’t that the funny ould long dagger ye carry? Sure ye must’ve mislaid it, matey.”
The Highlander shook his head. “Don’t matey me, ye rogue!” The claymore flashed out, its point pricking the vole’s throat. Doogy meant business. “Hear me, thief. If ah don’t have mah dirk by the time ah’ve counted tae three, ye’ll no’ be drinkin’ tea anymore. One . . . Two . . . !”
The bladetip moved up and down as Yoofus gulped. “Ah wait, wait now, let me think! The dirk, the dirk, now let me see . . . Oh, I remember now, ’tis hangin’ from the back o’ the door inside. I was takin’ care of it for ye!”
Doogy used his claymore to motion the volethief inside. “It better had be, Yoofus, or that bonny wee wifey o’ yores will make a bonny wee widow. Go on, you first.”
Just as the Highlander was retrieving his weapon from the hook behind the front door, Didjety placed a tray of pasties and some long, fat objects on the table alongside her tea service.
“Mister Plumm, sit yoreself down an’ take a sup’n’bite with us. The pasties are filled with wild cherry an’ rhubarb. But if ye fancy somethin’ savoury, then try me sausages. They’re straight out the oven, y’know.”
Doogy enquired, “Sausages, marm? What are sausages?”
The volewife explained. “I invented them meself, sir. I make a mixture of fine ground barley, oats, carrot and mushroom. Then I wrap them in onion skin and bake them slow overnight. Everybeast likes me sausages, have one. Ah no, don’t sit there, Mister Plumm. He doesn’t like bein’ sat upon, do ye, Rockbottom?”
Doogy stood to one side, staring at what he thought had been some kind of stone seat. It looked like stone, though it was covered with a curious square pattern. Yoofus rapped gently on the object. Doogy could not believe what he was seeing. A head emerged slowly from one end of the thing. It resembled a serpent’s head, but it had a much friendlier expression, with a mouth more like a beak. The creature, its neck wrinkled and scaled, looked as if it were from another world.
Didjety stood a short distance from it, holding out a piece of sausage. She spoke to it coaxingly. “Come on then, me beauty. Here’s some of yore mammy’s sausage for ye, me lovely ould Rockbottom.”