Samkim unstrung his bow and tested its heft to find the best end. "Never fear, Mr. Spriggat. We'll be right there with you, thwacking!"
Arula seconded her friend. "Ho aye, zurr. You'm cut oi a gurt stowt pole an* oi'll wopp 'ee foxer till 'ee 'm flatter'n a pancake, boi ecky oi will!"
Spriggat shook paws with them. "Good! Now you take a li'l nap whilst I cuts a couple o' staves."
Under a burgeoning three-part moon they set off through the woodland, slipping silently along amid the shadowed tree-trunks and undergrowth. Samkim padded carefully, thrilled at the prospect of regaining the sword of Martin the Warrior for his Abbey. Somewhere a nightjar warbled among the foliage and a woodpigeon cooed on the breeze high in the trees. Aru-*Ia*s eyes twinkled in the moonlight as she waggled a hefty yew stave.
Spriggat turned and held up his stave. ' 'Hush now. Samkim, you go to the right. Arula, you take the left. I know they ain't posted sentries, may'aps they think themselves safe deep in these woods. Yew tew travel curvin' inward, take a good thirty long paces, then stop, get those staves ready an' wait on my cricket chirrup. Good luck an' good 'untin', young uns!"
"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirtythat's it." Samkim halted among some junipers and peered in at the firelit camp. The rats lay about, wrapped in their cloaks, but over by the glowing embers he could see Dethbrush. The fox was resting in an upright position, his back against a log. The sword lay close to his paw, glimmering in the light of the dying camp-
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fire. There were wood-pigeon feathers and bones scattered about. The young squirrel shuddered. How vermin could kill and eat birdsthe very idea caused revulsion within him.
"Chrrrk!"
At the sound of Spriggat's call, Samkim leapt forward, yelling, "Yahaa! Death to the vermin! Redwaaaaalll!"
The cricket close by the fire that had chirruped shot beneath the log and hid. Arula was marching slowly along. Counting had never been her strong point.
"Urr, twenny-foiv, nointy-two, thurty-four. Boo urr! Woz-zat?" She went charging in waving her stave. "Boi okey, give 'em vinniger! Redwaaaaallllhooouuurrrrr!"
At the same time, Spriggat dashed in and collided with a rat who had leapt up at the noise.
The pandemonium was total. Set off by a real cricket call that proved to be a false alarm, the ambush went awry. Deth-brush jumped up to see two of his rats being belaboured by a squirrel and a hedgehog. He was only halfway up when a mole with a yew stave chased a screeching rat past him, counting as it went, "Twenny-noin, take that 'ee vermin! Sev-enty-'leven, oi'll wack 'ee! Fifty-foiv, sixteen-two ... wot's next? Take that 'n' that 'n' that!"
The other three rats milled about, bumping into each other.
Thinking they were under invasion from a much larger force, Dethbrush decided to escape with all speed. He hissed under his breath to the three rats: "Quick, over here. Scatter the fire and run that way, through there!"
Grabbing the sword, Dethbrush helped the rats scatter flame and glowing embers all over the clearing with their spears. They took off through the trees, running southwest after the fox.
Blinded by smoke and burning woodpigeon feathers, Arula whacked away at the log where Dethbrush had rested. "Nointy-seven, thurty-eight. Oi'll teach 'ee a lessing, ho urr!"
Spriggat caught the end of the stave and pulled her away. "It went wrong, we made a mess o' it! Quickly, afore the
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woods go up in flame, put out the fires!"
Swiftly they cut beaters of green juniper and lupin and set about tackling the blazes that were springing up all about the edges of the forest clearing. Each creature beat furiously, knowing their lives depended on putting out the woodland fire. Hot dry summer was the worst of all possible times to be caught in a woodland blaze, and once established it could devastate a whole wood, burning unchecked. Coughing and spluttering, their faces blackened by smoke, eyes red-rimmed and sore, they fought each fresh outbreak until the flames were subdued.
Spriggat kicked dust on a spark as he leaned heavily on Arula. "Whoof! I'm gettin' too long-seasoned for this sort o' game. Where's Samkim?"
"Over here, look what I've caught!" The young squirrel digged a limping snarling rat. He had his bowstring looped about the creature's neck. "I must have whacked him good
'and broke his footpaw. He didn't manage to escape with the others."
: Spriggat dealt the unfortunate rat a hefty cuff and pressed
*; some lupins into his claw. "Fire-raiser, eh? Don't snarl at me
' like that, you scum. Take that." He gave the rat another good
^buffet.
;*", "Right, get beating, go on! AH round this clearing until
|; Acre's no more chance of a burn-up. And just let me find one
{spark, that's all, just oneI'll give you such a beating that
; UK lumps'11 have lumps on top o' them!"
;" Arula took the bow. Playing the rat on the attached bow-string like a fish on a line, she kept him going around the clearing, hunting for any traces of sparks they had missed.
; Exhausted, Samkim and Spriggat sat down on the log. The
.: young squirrel expressed his disappointment.
;, ."Well, we made a right old frog's dinner of mat. You must have chirruped like a cricket too early. Arula wasn't in po-
lt;-,sition and I was barely ready. What made you do it, Sprig-
The cricket trundled out from under the log, chirruped pwice at them and waddled off angrily into the night.
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Samkim covered his eyes, realizing what had happened. "Oh no!"
Spriggat golloped a passing moth and began chuckling. "Ohohoho! Thank ye kindly, Samkim. Tis a tribute to my realistic cricket chirrup. Ohohohohohahaha!"
The hedgehog's laughter was infectious. Soon the three of them were doubled up pounding the log with their paws.
"Ahahahaha! Ooh dear! And there was Arula, countin' and whackin'. Ninety-seven, fifty-eight, twenty-three, take that an' that, hahaha. An' you ran smackbang into that rat. Oh hee-heehee! You should see the way your snout's swelled up. Whoohahahaha!''
"Hurt hurr hurr hurr! An' thurr wurr oi, beatin' up a log, hurrhurr. It wurr a~gudd job 'ee log were dead, or oi'da killed et, hurr!"
When the laughter had died down, Samkim kicked the dust gloomily. "Aye, but the fox got away with our sword. What's to laugh at about that? He could be anywhere by now."
Arula had the solution. She reeled in the rat on the bowstring. "Hurr naow lissen, vurmen. Whurr be 'ee fox gone to? You'm best arnswer oi afore oi get tumble mad!"
The rat sneered at Arula and remained silent. Spriggat smiled pitifully at the creature.
"I 'opes you don't talk, rat. Tell you why. See yon mole, she weren't foolin' when she said she were mad. Take it from us, she is mad, ain't she, Samkim?"
The young squirrel nodded, straight-faced and serious. "Mad? I'll say she is. Remember the last rat she caught, Spriggat? Dearie me, I dread to think about that poor creature."
The rat began to look twitchy. Spriggat shook his head sadly. "On my oath, I 'opes never to see that done to a livin' creature again, 'specially the bit with the three squashed frogs an' those maggoty apples. Ugh! Sickens me t' think of it."