door. “Enough! Enough! Where did you learn saber fighting, young ’un?”
Deodar looked disappointed that she had been disarmed. “From my uncle, Lieutenant Morio, but evidently I didn’t
learn too well, marm.”
Cregga pulled the saber from the door, presenting it back to Deodar hilt first. “Nonsense! If you’d learned any
better Fd have been slain. What d’you want to do, beat the Ruler of Salamandastron on your first practice?”
The young Runner took the saber back, smiling gratefully. “No, marm! Thank you for this saber—and the lesson
too.”
That same night the list of new recruits was posted at the entrance to the Dining Hall, and everyone clamored
around it to see who had been promoted to the Long Patrol. Drill Sergeant Clubrush, who was responsible for day-to-
day discipline among the younger set, sat near the doorway of the Officers’ Mess with Colonel Eyebright. The hares
were old friends, being of the same age and having served together many long seasons.
Eyebright tapped his pace stick gently against the table edge. “Stap me, but I wish Lady Cregga hadn’t ordered me
t’post that confounded list. Just look at ’em, burstin’ their britches to be Patrollers, all afire with the stories they’ve
heard, an’ not a mother’s babe o’ them knows what they’re really in for, wot?”
The Sergeant sipped his small beaker of mountain beer. “Aye, sir, ’taint the same as when we was young. You
didn’t get t’be a Patroller then ’til you ’ad t’duck yore ’ead to get through the doorway. I recall my ole pa sayin’ you
had t’be long enough t’be picked for Long Patrol. I’d ’ave gived those young ’uns another season yet, two mebbe, ’tis
a shame really, sir.”
The Colonel turned his eyes upward to the direction of the forge. “Mark m’words, Sarge, ’tis all Rose Eyes’s doin’.
I’ve never known or heard of a badger sufferin’ from the Blood-wrath so badly. I’ve had it from her own blinkin’
mouth that she’s bound to march off from here with half the garrison strength to destroy Tunn an’ his Rapscallions.
Have y’ever heard the like? A Ruler of Salamandastron leavin’ our mountain t’do battle goodness knows how far off.
She’d have had us all go if I hadn’t dug me paws in!”
Clubrush finished his drink and rose stiffly. “Beggin’ y’pardon, sir, I’d best get ’em organized afore supper. Oh
but-tons’n’brass, willyer lookit, there’s young Cheeva sobbin”er ’eart out ’cos she wasn’t posted on the list.”
Eyebright nodded sadly. “She was far too young, her pa an’ I decided we’d leave her a while yet. Better Cheeva
cryin’ now than me an’ her father weepin’ when Cregga’s bloodlust brings back sad results. You go about y’business
now, Sarge, I’ll see to her.”
Drill Sergeant Clubrush marched smartly into the midst of the successful candidates, bellowing out orders.
“Keep y’fur on now, young sirs an’ missies! Silence in the ranks there an’ lissen up please! Right, anybeast whose
name’s bin posted up ’ere—in double file an’ foller me. We’re goin’ up to Lady Cregga’s forge room where I’ll
h’issue you wid weapons I thinks best suited to gentlebeasts. No foolin’ about while yore up there ... Are you lissenin’,
Trowbaggs, I’ll ’ave my beady eye on you, laddie buck! Keep silence in the ranks, show proper respect to the Badger
marm, an’ mind yore manners. Tenshun! By the right ... Wait for it, Trowbaggs ... By the right quick march!”
As they marched eagerly off, Colonel Eyebright went to sit next to the young hare Cheeva, who was sobbing
uncontrollably in a corner. The kindly old officer passed her his own red-spotted kerchief.
“Now, now, missie, this won’t do, you’ll flood the place out. Come on now, tell me all about it, wot?”
Cheeva rocked back and forth, her face buried in the kerchief. “Waahahhh! M ... m ... my n ... n ... name wasn’t p
... p ... posted on m’ r ... r ... rotten ’ole li ... li ... list! Boohoohoo!”
Eyebright straightened his shoulders, adopting a stern tone. “Well I should hope not! It was the unanimous verdict
of the officers who made out that list that you be kept back. D’you know why?”
“‘Co ... co ... cos I’m t ... too yu ... yu ... young! Waaahahaaarr!”
The Colonel’s trim mustache bristled. “Balderdash, m’gel, who told y’that? The reason is that we decided you were
real officer material, needed sorely on this mountain, doncha know! Suppose Searats or Corsairs launched an attack on
us whilst that lot were off gallivantin’. Who d’you suppose we’d be lookin’ for to take up a trainee commandin’
position, eh, tell me that? Long Patrol isn’t the be all an’ end all of young hares like y’self who want t’make somethin’
of themselves. Ain’t that right, young Deodar?”
Without Cheeva seeing him, the Colonel winked broadly at Pxiar, seated nearby. She had had no need to go to the
forge for a weapon; she was polishing her saber blade with a xx. Deodar caught on to the officer’s little ruse right
away. ‘Oh, right you are, sah, I’d have been rather chuffed if I was picked t’be a trainee officer at the garrison here.”
Cheeva looked up, red-eyed and tear-stained. “Would you really?”
Deodar snorted as if the question was totally ridiculous. “Hah! Would I ever? How’s about swappin’ places—I’ll
stay here for officer trainin’ an’ you go bally well harin’ off with that other cracked bunch?”
Colonel Eyebright shook his head sternly. “Sorry, miss, or-ders’ve been posted, you’ve got to go. Soon as I’ve got
you lot out o’ my whiskers I’m goin’ to start Cheeva’s officer trainin’. First task, nip off an’ wash that face in cold
water, miss. Can’t have the troops seein’ anybeast of officer material boohooin’ all over the place, can we, wot?”
Cheeva gave back the kerchief and ran off half laughing and half weeping. “‘Course not, Colonel, sah, thank you
very much!”
Eyebright wrung out the spotted kerchief, smiling at Deodar. “Good form, gel, thanks for your help. And don’t
polish that saber away now, will ye!”
23?
After supper the new recruits laid their paws upon the table and began drumming loudly until the dining hall
reverberated to the noise. This was the prelude to a bit of fun traditional to Long Patrol.
Colonel Eyebright played his part well. Striding from the Officers’ Mess, he held up his pace stick for silence.
When it was quiet he began the ritual with a short rhyme.
“Who are these strange creatures, pray, Say who are you all, Stirring up a din an’ clatter In our dining hall?”
Young Furgale rose in answer in time-honored manner.
“We are no strange creatures, sah, But perilous one an’ all, Tell Sergeant we’re the Long Patrol, We’ve come to
pay a call!”
The Colonel bowed stiffly and marched back to the Mess, where he could be heard announcing to the waiting
Clubrush:
“Wake up from your slumbers, Sergeant, dear, I think your new recruits are here.”
Wild cheering and unbridled laughter greeted the appearance of Clubrush. He dashed out of the Officers’ Mess,
roaring and glaring fiercely like the Drill Sergeant of every recruit’s nightmares. On these occasions a Sergeant always
wore certain things, and Clubrush had dressed accordingly. ’Round his waist he wore a belt with dried and faded dock
leaves hanging from it—these were supposed to be the ears of recruits that he had collected. ’Round his footpaws he
trailed soft white roots—recruits’ guts. Over one shoulder was a banderole of cotton thistles representing tails. AH