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Toward evening the island was beginning to loom large. Rearing up out of the surrounding deeps, it was a high, rocky outcrop, fringed on top by foliage, bushes and overhanging trees. The red sky of eventide silhouetted it eerily. Still fearful of Deepcoiler's reappearance, the Guosssom paddled on with their last reserves of strength, anxious to be ashore.
Log-a-log's boat had settled low in the water. Pikkle urged the crew on with false cheerfulness. "I say, you shameful shrews, wallop those paddles a bit faster. That's the ticket! Keep goin', chaps. Think of all that lovely land to wiggle your paws on."
The lake was close to lapping over the boat's sides as they nosed into a rocky inlet. Log-a-log jumped ashore and leapt onto a broad sheif-like ledge.
"All ashore, Guosssom! Nordo, loop a line over the stern. Rungle, get one round the bows. We'll haul her up here and see if we can make the old tub shipshape again!"
It was dark by the time they had heaved the damaged logboat up onto the ledge. Both crews sprawled about on the flat rock, resting after the day's labors. A small fire was built and food was shared out. Mara and Pikkle squatted around the fire with Log-a-log and Nordo. They ate shrewbread, yellow cheese and nuts and drank their portion of the remaining shrewbeer. The Guosssom leader settled his back against the cliff which reared up behind him.
"Ah well, we finally made it! In the morning I'll search out some pine resin, wood and clay to repair the boat. Nordo, you'll take a crew and forage for supplies. Don't stray too far, though. Stay within hailing distance of here. Mara my friend, I don't need to tell you what you and Pikkle have to do ..."
The young hare spoke around a mouthful of cheese and nuts. "Spot on, old lad. We've got to go an* have a chinwag with the bally ghost, I suppose. Honestly, the things a chap has t' do! I don't know which is worse, actually: gettin' scoffed by old Deepthingy, or bein' frightened to death by a spooky spirit."
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Mara emptied her beaker and lay back yawning. "No need to worry about that until morning, my old Pikkle. Get some sleep while you can."
Tubgutt came over and lay curled up close to Mara's foot-paws like a faithful pet dog. "Where you go, I will too. I'll be there to watch your back tomorrow. You can rely on me."
The camp fell still as the fire dwindled to dying embers. The only sound was that of weary shrews snoring. A myriad host of twinkling stars surrounded the waning moon in the night sky, reflecting into the broad, still waters beneath. The peace that summer darkness brings fell over the slumbering earth.
It was some time shortly after midnight that everybeast on the ledge was dragged into wakefulness by a long echoing howl which boomed about cliff and lake like some sepulchral knell.
' 'Eeeee.... Yoooooo.... Laaay.... Leeee.... Aaaahhhhhh!!"
Pikkle's ears stood up like two pikestaffs. He leapt across to Mara and grabbed tight hold of her paws.
"Hellteeth and Darkgates! What was that?"
27
Early morning shed its light over the leafy canopy of far Mossflower in the southwest. Spriggat tugged at the bowstring fastened around the tracker rat's neck.
"Stir yer stumps, yew rogue. We've got ter catch up with that fox. Mind now, you play us false an1 I'll let 'Rula the mad mole loose on ye. Right, me beauty, for'ard march!"
Off they went, Samkim stifling his laughter as the little molemaid muttered darkly to the trembling rat, "Hoo urr, oi'll chop off n 'ee tail an' stuff it up 'ee nose, then oi'll fetch some woild ants an' let they darnce in 'ee ears. That's after oi poured gurt globs o' sticky mud o'er 'ee vurrmint 'ead, o' course. Hoo urr, an' hair hoo!"
Convinced that Arula was truly mad, the rat led them on a straight course. This was confirmed from time to time as Spriggat found evidence of the other five trackers and Deth-brush along the way.
There was a short halt at midday for refreshment. Though supplies were running low, they managed a tasty little meal of apples, cheese and some half-disintegrated oatcakes. Spriggat found a ready supply of insects buzzing around the surface of a small patch of marshground. Caked from snout to paw
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in mud, he wandered happily about, munching gnats, wasps and other winged insects.
"Mmm, a very nice liddle selection 'ereabouts. Very nice!"
The afternoon was well on by the time the rat led them up a hilly rise in the woodland. Samkim held the bowstring lead, walking at the tracker's side. On reaching the peak of the hill, the young squirrel tugged sharply on the string. "Get down, lie still and be quiet!" he commanded the prisoner.
Sensing the need for caution, Arula and Spriggat bellied down, crawling through the loam to join him.
"Yurr, wot be amiss, Sanken?" Arula whispered.
They followed the direction of Samkim's paw as he pointed downhill. Between the thickly wooded side of the slope a glint of running water could be seen below.
"The Great South Stream," Spriggat whispered.
The young squirrel concentrated hard as he sniffed the air. "Aye, that's probably it, but I'm convinced I can smell woodsmoke and hear voices down there. What d'you think, Arula?"
The molemaid moved her head this way and that, wrinkling her dark button nose intently. "Ho urr, you'm roight, wood-smoke an' voices it be."
Samkim pulled an arrow from his quiver and held it point forward at the rat's throat. "This could be a trap. If you've played us false then your seasons are finished as of now, rat!"
The tracker swallowed hard, not daring to shake his head with the arrow tip stinging his gullet. "Dethbrush wouldn't hang about layin' traps, he only wants to get back to Ferahgo as quickly as possible. I told you he'd be followin' the course of the South Stream."
Samkim looked across at the hedgehog. ''What do you think, Spriggat?"
The old hedgehog stood up quietly. "Well, we can't lay about 'ere all day, I say we goes down yonder an' investigates. Roll over mis way, rat."
The rat complied and was promptly gagged with a mouthful
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of leaves. Spriggat wound the bowstring under his chin and over his snout, effectively securing the gag and muzzling him. "Right ho, vermin. Lead on, slow an' easy-like!" Using the trees as cover, they crept down the hillside toward the stream. Arula drew the heavy pruning knife she had brought with her from Redwall, giving her loaded sling to Spriggat. Samkim gripped the unstrung bow, ready to use it as a stave. As they drew closer the sounds of creatures talking grew louder, though what they were saying the friends could not tell. Spriggat hauled the rat from the cover of an elm trunk and did a short run forward, pushing him into the cover of a yew thicket. Peering between the pole-like branches, he caught sight of a group of creatures arguing heatedly in gruff bass voices.
The hedgehog heaved a sigh of relief. Pushing the rat out in front of him, he called to Samkim and Arula, "It's all right, yew tew. No need to 'ide. They're shrews!"
The shrews on the streambank turned at the sound of Sprig-gat's voice. Before anybeast could stop him, one of them dashed forward. Drawing his rapier, he ran the tracker rat through the heart.
Realizing what had happened, Spriggat dealt the shrew a hefty crack over the head with his loaded sling, roaring as he laid the creature out senseless. "Yew stupid liddle murderer, couldn't y'see the rat was tied up? 'E was our prisoner, an 'elpless vermin. Yew 'ad no right to slay 'im like that!"