‘O daughter, my daughter, now listen to me, Such rowdy wild pawsteps I never did see, Run into the house quick
an’ cover your eyes, An’ I’ll give those ruffians such a surprise!’
A hare in a frock coat so fine an’ so long Scraped on a small fiddle an’ banged a big gong, He seized the poor
mother an’ gave a loud cry, ‘Let’s warm up our paws with a reel, you an’ I!’
‘O mother, sweet mother, oh may I look now?’ “Come stir y’stumps, daughter, an’ look anyhow,’
As she whirled around the good mother did call, ‘There’s a handsome one here with no partner at all!
‘So batter that drum well an’ kick up your paws, I’m reelin with mine an yore jiggin’ with yours, A leapin’ an’
twirlin’ as cares fly away, Those hares on the mountain can call any day!’”
All through the grounds of the Abbey, the warm sunny afternoon resounded with the joyous sounds of feasting and
laughter. Sloey the mousebabe filled her apron pockets with candied nuts and dashed off with the other Dibbuns to
play hide-and-seek.
Gubbio and the rest drew straws to see who would be denkeeper. A tiny hedgehog named Twingle drew the short
straw. Covering his eyes with a dock leaf, he began counting aloud in baby fashion.
“One, three, two an’ a bit, four, sixty, eight, three again, an’ a five-seventy-nine ...”
Squealing and giggling with excitement, the little creatures dashed off to hide before Twingle finished counting.
“Four, two an’ a twelve, don’t knows any more numbers, Fm a cummin’ t’find youse all now!”
Back at the table the moles were broaching a great new cask of October Ale, singing uproariously along with the
Redwallers, showing the Long Patrol hares what good voice they were in.
“October Ale, ’tis brewed when summer’s done,
From hops’n’yeast an’ barley fine,
With just a pinch of dandelion,
A smidgeon of good honey, a taste of elderflower,
An’ don’t forget the old wild oat
Culled at the dawn’s first hour.
We puts it up in casks of oak,
All seasoned well with maple smoke,
Then lays it in cool cellars deep,
Ten seasons long to sleep.
October Ale, no drink so good’ n’cheery
In winter by the fireside bright
To warm your paws the whole long night,
Or after autumn harvesting, to rest an’ take your ease.
Just sip a tankard nice’n’slow.
With crusty bread an’ cheese.
‘Tis wholesome full an’ hearty
For any feast or party.
We’d tramp o’er forest hill an’ dale
For good October Ale!”
Gurrbowl wielded her mallet, knocking the spigot through the bung with a satisfying thud. Skipper and his otters
lined up with tankards and beakers as the foaming dark brew splashed forth. Sergeant Torgoch brushed his bristling
mustache with the back of a paw, smacking his lips and clunking beakers with Galloper Riffle as they sampled the
new barrel’s contents.
Torgoch placed a coaxing paw around the Cellarmole’s shoulders, saying, “Wot d’ye say, marm, ’ow about comin’
to be Head Cellar Keeper at Salamandastron? Just think of all those poor hares who ain’t never tasted yore October
Ale. Take pity on ’em, I beg yer!”
The molewife was so flustered by the compliment she threw her pinafore up over her face. “Hurr, go ’way, zurr,
you’m a tumble charmer, but oi wuddent leave this yurr h’ Abbey for nought, so thurr!”
With a twinkle in her eye, Abbess Tansy chided Torgoch: “Shame on you, Sergeant, trying to rob us of our Cellar
Keeper! But seeing as you like Redwall’s October Ale so much, here’s what I propose. You may take as many barrels
back to Salamandastron as you can carry.”
Rockjaw Grang placed his paws around a barrel. Grunting and straining, he was barely able to move it. The
Sergeant pulled a mock mournful face. “Thankee, marm, yore too kind, I’m sure!”
Suddenly, Twingle the hedgehog Dibbun came stumbling up to the table, waving his paws wildly and shouting,
“Come a quick, ’urry ’urry!”
Arven picked him up and sat him on the tabletop. “Now then, you liddle rogue, what’s all this noise about?”
Twingle struggled down from the table, yelling urgently, “We was playin”ide-seek an’ Sloey failed down d’big
’ole!”
Shad the Gatekeeper lifted the Dibbun with one big paw. “What, y’mean the pit under the south wall, Sloey fell
down there?”
Breathless and tearful the Dibbun nodded. “All a way down inta the dark she gone!”
Like a flash the otters and hares were away, running headlong with Arven leading them.
Sloey’s fall was broken by the rushing waters far below. The swift current was about to whip her off into the
bowels of the earth when suddenly she was plucked from the roaring torrent by her apron strings and flung up on the
bank. Half conscious, the mousebabe struggled upright and screamed with fright as a coil, heavy and scale-covered,
knocked her back down. Something licked her paw, and she caught the dreadful waft of stale breath, hot against her
quivering nostrils. A long, satisfied sigh sounded close to her face. “Aaaaaahhhhnhh!”
32
Tammo was with Arven, Perigord, and Skipper as they hurried onto the platform over the chasm. Shad could be
heard calling behind them, “Stay back, too many’ll collapse the platform! Stay back, mates!”
Grabbing a rope, Major Perigord knotted it through the carrying ring of the lantern left there by the moles. He
swung the light out into the gorge, paying the rope out. Everyone leaned over the edge, peering down as the lantern
illuminated the abyss.
Arven bellowed down, “Sloey, can you hear me? Sloey?”
A wail of terror drifted upward as the lantern traveled lower.
Perigord grabbed Skipper’s paw. “Great thunderin’ seasons. Look!”
A big yellow river eel was menacing the mousebabe on the bank, its brown back and muddy umber sides rearing
up snak-ily, the gashlike downturned mouth open, revealing glittering teeth. It swayed slowly, as if savoring the
anticipation of a meal, while its eyes, amber circles with jet-black center orbs, focused on the helpless mite.
Skipper wiped a nervous paw across his dry lips, calling hoarsely, “Keep quiet, liddle ’un! Stay still, don’t move!”
Arven stared anxiously down at the horrendous scene. “Oh, mercy! What’ll we do?”
Skipper of Otters acted swiftly. Grabbing the dirk from Tammo, he climbed up onto the rail of the platform. “I’ll
borrow yore blade, matey, speed’s the thing now. One of you follow me down by usin’ the rope. Rescue the Dibbun
an’ get ’er back up ’ere. Can’t stop t’chat, mates, ’ere goes!”
With the long knife between his teeth, Skipper dove headfirst into the gorge.
Something flashed by Sloey and landed in the water with a booming splash. Instantaneously the big male otter
surfaced and bounded clear of the rushing stream. The eel was about to strike down on its prey when Skipper hurled
himself on the coiling monster.
“Redwaaaaaaallllll!”
The eel struck, burying its teeth in the otter’s shoulder and whipping its coils around his body. Skipper had sunk
his teeth into the eel’s back and was stabbing furiously with the dirk. Eel and otter went lashing and thrashing into the
churning waters, locked together in a life-and-death struggle. In a flash they both were gone, swept away
underground.
Arven and Perigord took hold of the rope together, but Tammo ducked between them and slid over the platform,
clinging to the rope.
“I’m lighter than you chaps. Stand by t’pull me up when I get the Dibbun!”
Paw over paw the young hare descended, looking down to where the babe lay and shivered in the light of the