“Waaaah! The bottom boat’s sinkin’!”
“Well, geroutofit mothbrain! Yore not s’posed t’be in it!”
“Whoa . . . ’elp! I’m swingin’ in the air, hangin’ on to the stern of this boat ’ere!”
Togey ran up and down the trunk like a madbeast. “Ye bottle-nosed beetlebrains! Lend ’im a paw on the stern there! Take the strain on those ropes! Gerroff yore bottoms an’ push that root end. Move! Push! Pull! More of ye down t’the stern, get yore weight onto it! Heeeeeaaaaave!”
Gulo and Eissaye crept forward with the rest of the vermin behind them. The distant squabbling and roaring of orders reached Gulo’s ears.
Just as he halted, preparing to speak, one of the white foxes whispered to him, “Lord, there are the foebeast, yonder! See?”
Gulo drew back behind an elm as he glimpsed the lanky figure of a hare dead ahead, no more than half a stone’s throw. He spotted more hares, a squirrel and an otter, coming slowly along the streambank.
Gesturing in a semi-circular movement towards the woodlands, the wolverine gave murmured orders. “Scouts, eh? We will get around the back of them and cut them off from the watermice and their boats. Follow me quietly if ye want fresh meat!”
Drawing their weapons, the ermine and foxes stole off to the left, following Gulo in a long arc.
Skipper shouldered his lance. Turning away from the upstream bank, he addressed Tam. “No sign o’ the vermin, mate. They must be limpin’ along after their scrap wid those black birds.”
Tam put up his sword. “Aye, let’s get back to the Guosim. Mayhaps we can lend ’em a paw to shift that tree.”
As the company turned, an arrow whipped out, catching Skipper through the side.
Corporal Wopscutt, who had been bringing up the rear, yelled, “Ambush! It’s the vermin!”
Two hares went down, felled by arrows and a spear. Then Gulo dashed out at the head of his vermin, roaring, “Gulo! Gulo! Killkillkill!”
Completely taken by surprise, Tam called to the Patrol hares, “Into the water! Get downstream!”
Arrows, axes and spears pelted at them. Tam grabbed Skipper, hauling him into the water and thrusting him out into the current. “Get back to the Guosim, quick!”
Rushing back ashore, he drew the sword of Martin. After striking down a fox that was about to spear Lancejack Wilderry, Tam hurled himself at the advancing vermin, still yelling for the hares to get in the stream, where they would stand a chance of being saved by the swift current. Five hares were down, but the rest broke free, retreating into the broadstream.
Corporal Butty Wopscutt was harassed to the front and left by vermin. Tam had run no more than a few paces in the direction of his beleaguered comrade before he was stopped in his tracks by Gulo the Savage, who suddenly bounded out at him. The border warrior slashed out blindly with his sword. Gulo screeched as the blade lopped off his right ear. Blood was flowing freely from the wound as the wolverine clapped a paw to it. Tam ran by him, finally reaching the besieged Butty, who was gallantly holding off the main charge with his long rapier.
Together the two warriors fought, side by side, their backs to the stream, stifling the advancment of the vermin. Though vastly outnumbered, Tam and Butty, each with his blade slashing like a windmill in a gale, fought so furiously that their foe could not overcome them.
Gulo was screaming in the background, urging his vermin on. “Kill! Kill! Charge and bring them down!”
Ashen-faced and tight-jawed, Butty muttered to Tam as they battled on, “Into the water, friend. Save yourself.”
Tam’s blade thrust at a leering face. “Not while you’re by my side, mate. We go in together!”
The hare caught Tam’s eye as he repelled an axe swing. “We’d be slain in the shallows! There’s too many of the scum. I order you, go now, sirrah!”
Tam feinted a spearthrust. “Not without you, Corporal!”
Butty almost doubled up but recovered himself. “Gulo got me in the back with his fangs an’ claws. You must go before he gets you. Go, Tam, I’m already a deadbeast!”
The border warrior chanced a quick glimpse over his friend’s shoulder. He gasped in horror at the long, ripping wounds, Butty’s blood now mingling with the water in the shallows. “Matey, come with me. We’ll make it together!”
Butty shook his head resolutely. “No, sah, my string’s run out. I’ve only got moments. Go while I still have strength to cover your back, friend. If y’get a chance another day, then slay Gulo for me, wot!”
Without waiting for an answer, the hare charged straight at the press of vermin, roaring out his last war cry, “Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaa!”
Tam turned and dived into the current. He was caught in the downstream swirl and whipped away. Water filled his mouth and nostrils as he vowed silently to fulfill the task the hare had put on him.
Fortunately, Rakkety Tam was out of sight before his friend was slain. He had not died easily. Pierced by a forest of weaponry, the gallant hare broke his rapier blade in two and flung it at the enemy. He had no time for another war cry, because his teeth were set in the throat of a screaming ermine. Thus died Corporal Butty Wopscutt of the Long Patrol, a fighter to the bitter end.
Log a Log Togey and his shrews finally moved the fallen tree, but not as planned. Several Guosim were lost, crushed beneath the heavy, rooted base as it shifted back on them. The tree did not move free in one go: first the top half budged under the pressure of fulcrum and leverage, but the base end remained put. Then, aided by the current, the willow swept side on over the water in a single mighty rush. Instead of landing midstream, the tree had positioned against the far bank, rolling backward through the shallows and killing the shrews who had been pushing at the rooted end. The haulers had been forced to wade for their lives without benefit of the ropes, which had been swept underwater but now lay tangled beneath the trunk. The waterway, however, had been cleared. Under Togey’s frantic orders, the crew righted the longboats and brought them into the bank.
Before they even had time to recover the bodies of their dead comrades, Skipper came wallowing downstream, gasping, “Lend us a paw, mates, an’ make ready t’sail!”
Once the otter had been pulled out of the water by the long Guosim rowing poles, it was clear that, somehow, he had been injured. Log a Log Togey enquired, as he slapped bankmud on the wound to the otter chieftain’s side, “Wot ’appened, Skip?”
The otter spat out a jet of water. “Ambushed by the vermin. No time fer chitchat, mate, ’ere come the others. Pull ’er out an’ git under way. Y’best put a move on, Togey. Gulo an’ the vermin are on our tails!”
Groups of Long Patrol hares were hauled from the racing current onto the logboats. The bloodcurdling yells of Gulo’s band could be heard drawing closer as the hares were pulled aboard and the small flotilla of logboats shot out into midstream.
Skipper grabbed a shrew. “It’s Tam! See, there he is. Pass ’im an oar, quick!”
Exhausted, the warrior squirrel was trying to keep his head above the surface as he was rushed downstream. Behind him, vermin were running along the bank, shooting arrows at him. Tam had never let go of Martin’s sword since the start of the ambush. He saw the thick ash paddle splash into the stream ahead of him. With his last ounce of strength, he swung the blade, bedding it in the paddle and hanging on tight to the sword with both paws. The Guosim crew heaved him aboard just in time.
The banks had become rocky, rising higher, funnelling the already fast water into a roaring, boiling tunnel. Gulo’s archers vanished from view as the boats swept away on the wild torrent. Everybeast threw themselves flat to the decks of the logboats, which were well out of control as they hurtled through a chain of rapids. High, white-crested masses of water shot by madly as the logboats bumped against one another and scraped over protruding rocks.