Killa!” Swooping upward, she disposed of two more rats with a quick side-to-side jab to tiieir faces. Bulling into the
leader of the Painted Ones, she laid him senseless with a single rap to his skull.
Russa grabbed the dirk and slashed through Tammo’s bonds. “Quick, get behind me an’ lock y’paws ’round my
waist!”
With a swift kick she sent the Painted Ones’ leader from the bough they were standing on. As soon as he started to
fall, Russa leapt after him, with Tammo holding grimly on to her and shouting, “We’re comin’ doooooooown!”
Leaves, twigs, branches, limbs tore madly by in a rushing kaleidoscope of brown, black, and green. Tammo’s heart
seemed to fly up into his mouth as all three plummeted earthward, Russa’s footpaws practically resting on the back of
the rat as his body smashed a path down to the ground for them. They landed with a thrashing crashing sound,
flattening an osier bush as the three bodies hit it.
Major Perigord whirled a slingstone upward, remarking as he let the pebble fly, “Just dropped in to join the jolly
old scrap, wot? Bravo!”
Letting go of Russa, Tammo flopped awkwardly onto the ground. Apart from various scratches he was surprised to
find himself unharmed. Russa yanked the battered and unconscious tree rat leader upright and pushed him into
Rockjaw’s open paws.
“Make light, get me a lantern, somebeast, “urry!” she cried.
Tinder and flint hastily fired a lantern Riffle had brought. Bidding Riffle hold the light close to their captive, Russa
grabbed the leader by one ear, hauling his head upright. Then she pressed the dirkpoint under his chin and called
upward, imitating the tree rats’ speech, “Chakkachook! Dis beast a dead’n, we cuttim ’ead off, you chukka more rocks.
Dissa beast tellya true, chahakachah!”
The slingstones stopped and a mass wail went up from the foliage.
“Yaaahaaaagg! Norra kill Shavvakamalla! Yaaahaaaagg!”
Rockjaw Grang slung the senseless leader over his shoulder.
“Shavvakawot? Sithee, ’tis a big name for a lickle rat!”
Sergeant Torgoch smiled at his friend’s broad accent. “Take ’im back t’camp. We’ll get a good night’s sleep with
their Chief as ’ostage, wot d’ye say, sah?”
Drawing his saber, Perigord began backing his troop out of the area. “Capital idea! But we’d best keep up the
threats, just ’t’make sure they know we mean business. I say, are you hurt, old lad?”
Tammo was limping on his right footpaw. “Little sprain, sah, I’ll be right as rain in a bit.”
The hares backed off, shouting horrible threats into the trees. “I say, you rips up there, leave us alone or we’ll scoff
your jolly old leader. I’m quite serious, y’know. Chop chop, yum yum, eatim alia up, as you blighters say, savvy?”
“Yaaaaahaaaag! No eata Shavvakamalla! Yaaahaaa-haaagghh!”
“Hah! Y’don’t like that, do you? Well keep your bally dis-.’ tance or it’s fricassee of tree rat for brekkers!”
“Aye, an’ we’ll use the leftovers t’make tree rat turnover fer lunch, it’ll go nice with a bit o’ salad!”
“Actually I’d rather fancy a slice of tree rat tart. D’you think there’d be enough of him left t’make one, eh, Rock—
By ’eck, goo an’ get thy own tree rat, Cap’n. I’m doin’ all the carryin’, so this ’un’s mine. Bah goom, ’e’ll make a
grand tree rat ’otpot with a crust o’er ’is ’ead!”
“Yaaaahaggaaaah! Nono tree rats ’otpot, yerra no eatim!”
Major Perigord called a halt to the teasing. “Quite enough now, pack it in, chaps—those rotters’ve got the
message, I think. I say, Rockjaw, I hope you were jokin’ about tree rat hotpot. We’re not really goin’ to eat the
blighter, y’know.”
Rockjaw Grang plodded along with his burden, muttering a single word:
“Spoilsport!”
24
The remainder of the night passed uneventfully, though Peri-gord’s troop knew they were being watched from the
treetops by the Painted Ones. Pairing off, the hares took turns to guard the camp and keep an eye on the
still-
unconscious prisoner.
Tammo and Pasque were on second watch. They sat together, keeping the fire fed with twigs and dried moss.
Tammo eyed the captive’s slumped figure uneasily. “I say, d’you think the rascal will come ’round before
momin’? He looks pretty much of a heap, maybe the fall finished him off?”
Pasque felt the pulse on the rat’s neck and checked his breathing by holding a thin blade of grass close to his mouth
and nostrils. “Not t’worry, he’ll live, though whether or not he’ll ever be the same after you an’ Russa landin’ atop of
him remains t’be seen. Now—I’d best take a look at that footpaw you’ve been hobblin’ about on.”
Tammo dismissed the idea airily. “Oh, that? Hah! ’Twas nothin’ really, I’m fine, thanks!”
Pasque Valerian began pulling herbs and dressing from her bag. “Sorry, but I’ve got to fix it up, Major’s orders. If
you have to travel on that paw all day tomorrow it’d become worse an’ you’d slow us all up. So hold still.”
Pasque damped warm water on dock leaves and crushed gentian stems, binding the poultice to Tammo’s right
footpaw with a thin brown cloth strip. When she was done, Tammo was pleased with the result. The bandage was firm
but not tight, and he could use the footpaw quite freely without twingeing pains.
“Golly, that feels like a new paw now. My thanks to you, marm!”
Pasque fluttered her long lashes comically. “Why, thank ye, young sir, though if you had any of your mother’s
pancakes left I’d charge you two of ’em for my services!”
The leader of the Painted Ones stirred. “Whuuchakka huunhh! Whuuurrg! Shavvakamalla hurtened much lotsa!”
Pasque reopened her medicine bag, showing open disdain for the creature as she treated him. “Hmph! Hurtened
much lotsa, is it? Y’wicked little runt, I’d have hurted you much lotsa more if I could’ve got a clear shot at you. Here,
sit up’n’drink this!”
Averting his head, the rat tried to push away Pasque’s med-icine. Tammo came to her aid. Grabbing the protesting
vermin’s jaws he forced them open, pushing the rat’s head back. “Carry on, chum, pour it down the filthy ol’ throat,
an’ I hope it tastes jolly awful. Give the bounder a bigger dose if he tries spittin’ it out!”
Between them they fixed up the rat’s injuries. Tammo, working under Pasque’s directions, proved capable with
bandage and splint, though whenever his friend was not watching, he would give the bindings an extra sharp tug,
causing the rat to groan. Pasque took the groans as a sign that more medicine was needed, and she dosed him well.
“Oh, do stop moanin’ an’ whinin’, you cowardly little bully. Thank the fates you’re still alive an’ bein’ treated by
civilized hares!”
Morning dawned warm, with the promise of a hot sunny day. Steam rose in drifting tendrils from the mossy
riverbank as Corporal Rubbadub marched about, sounding reveille.
“Rubbadubdub, dubbadubbity dub, baboom baboom ba-boom!”
The Painted Ones’ leader clapped both bandaged paws to his aching head and glared pleadingly at Rubbadub, who
merely smiled and leaned close to the rat’s ear, to give him the full benefit of his skills.
“Boompity boompity boom!”
Major Perigord stretched languidly, issuing morning orders as he did, “Rise’n’shine, troop. ’Fraid we can’t take the
chance of breakin’ our fast hereabouts, what with the flippin’ forces o’ darkness up there in the arboreal verdance,
waitin’ to take a crack at us an’ rescue oP Shavvaka wotsisface. We’ll cross the river lower down an’ don the nosebag