The columns did not break step until well into the afternoon. Halting to rest and take light refreshment, they
sprawled gratefully on a high hilltop amid wide patches of scented heather. Lady Cregga Rose Eyes climbed onto a
rock and surveyed the terrain ahead. Sighting two running figures, she summoned Clubrush.
“Runners coming back, Sergeant. We’ll stop here until they report and rest. One of them’s young Algador
Swiftback, but I don’t recognize the other, do you?”
Clubrush shielded his eyes and watched the Runners. “Aye, marm, ’tis one o’ the Starbuck family. Reeve, I think.”
Algador and Reeve put on an extra burst of speed for the last lap, running neck and neck uphill. The Sergeant
dropped his ears flat in admiration.
“Look at ’em go, marm. Only Salamandastron hares can run like that. Ho fer the days o’ youth an’ t’be a Galloper
again, eh!”
Dashing up with scarce a hairbreadth between them, the pair skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust, throwing up a
joint salute.
“Found ’em, Lady Cregga, marm!”
“Rapscallion tracks, great masses of ’em!”
Leaping down from the rock, the huge badger confronted them, her eyes turning from pink to red as the blood rose
behind them. “Where did you see these vermin tracks?”
Trembling under the Warrior’s glare and still breathless, Algador and Reeve continued with their report.
“Comin” up from the south an’ east, marm!”
“When we cut their trail ’twas about four days old, but it was Rapscallions right enough, travelin’ north, marm!”
Cregga’s mighty paw gripped the axpike haft like a steel vise. “Where would be the best place to cut their trail
short?”
Algador stuck a paw straight out, turned slowly a few de—
The Long Patrol grees to his right, and, narrowing both eyes, sighted on a location. “Right there, marm! If they’re
marchin’ due north, the closest place we can cut trail would be between those two hills yonder.”
Without waiting for anybeast, Cregga strode off downhill, headed for the distant spot. Sergeant Clubrush ruffled
both the Runners’ ears.
“Well done, you two. Rest here an’ tell cooks to leave you food an’ drink. Follow us when y’feels ready to go agin.
Lance Corporal, get ’em up on their paws an’ formed in mar-chin’ order. Come on, you slack-pawed, famine-faced
web-wallopers! Are you goin’ t’sit around all day while yore good Lady Commander is off alone an’ unprotected? Hup
two three, last one in line’s on a fizzer!”
Clubrush tugged Trowbaggs’s ears as he passed by. “Leave the carryin’ to the carriers, Trowbaggs. Back up with
the rest an’ be’ave yoreself now.”
Trowbaggs hurried along, saluting furiously many times. “Behave m’self, Sarge, yes, Sarge, very good, Sarge,
thank you, Sarge!”
Clubrush and Ellbrig marched at the rear, helping and encouraging any stragglers. The Sergeant peered ahead
through the column’s dust. “I knows I shouldn’t be sayin’ this, Corp, but did you see ’er? She wasn’t bothered whether
or not she ’ad one or five ’undred at ’er back. Not Lady Rose Eyes, straight off she went, grippin’ that axpike like she
was stran-glin’ it, eyes blazin’ red, jus’ longin’ t’be destroyin’ any vermin she catches up with!”
Ellbrig stooped on the march, retrieving a beaker some recruit had dropped, and continued without breaking step.
“Well, you said it, Sarge, though you spoke for me ’cos I was thinkin’ the same thing. We’re led by a beast who’s
liable to run out o’ control at any moment. But what can we do?”
The Drill Sergeant blinked against the dust, keeping his eyes straight ahead on the winding downhill path. “Our
duty, Corporal, that’s wot we can do. Obey Lady Rose Eyes’s commands an’ look after those who ’ave to obey us.
Best thing we can do is the thing we do best. Turn these recruits into real Long Patrol hares who can take care o’
themselves in battle. Teach ’em discipline an’ comradeship an”ope most of
‘em come out o’ this mess alive, experienced enough to teach those who’ll come after them.”
Clubrush raised his voice, bellowing out in true Drill Sergeant fashion so all could hear him: “Come on, me lucky
buckoes, move those dodderin’ footpaws, yore like a load of ole mole wives out pickin’ daisies! Pick up that step now!
Shangle Widepad, you an’ the older veterans, give ’em the ‘Moanin’ Green Recruit’ song, see if’n these
whippersnappers can keep up with the pace!”
The tough-looking hare who had helped Trowbaggs on his first night by standing second guard for him struck up
the tune Clubrush had requested. Shangle had a fine deep bass; his comrades joined in. Soon the entire column was
moving faster, every young hare in the ranks not wanting to be identified with the object of the mocking air, the
Moaning Green Recruit.
“O ’tis up at dawn every morn, The flag is flyin’ high, Why did I join this Long Patrol, O why O why O why?
I march all day the whole long way, Me footpaws red an’ sore, If I get home I’ll never roam No more no more no
more!
O watch that line, step in time, Through sun’n’rain an’ snow, Would I sign up again to go, O no no no no no!
The Corporal shouts, the Sergeant roars, As like a snail I creep, Just get me to that camp tonight An’ let me sleep
sleep sleep!”
As a result of the quick-marching dogtrot, the column moved ahead speedily like a well-oiled machine, throwing
up a dust cloud in its wake. Darkness was falling fast, and the twin hills were near. Lady Cregga would either be
waiting for them in the valley between the hills, or she might have continued pursuing the trail of the Rapscallions. In
any event, Clubrush had decided that was where night camp would be pitched.
Trowbaggs was marching directly behind Shangle Widepad when the veteran stumbled. The younger hare saved
him as he fell backward. “I say, old bean, are you all right?”
Shangle grimaced, breaking into a hop to keep up with the pace. “Oofn, me flippin’ footpaw, I just ricked it on a
sharp stone!”
Trowbaggs supported him, nodding to Furgale. “What ho, Furg, lend a paw here, this chap’s hobblin’, wot!”
The two recruits took Shangle’s weapons and pack, sharing them and bolstering up the veteran between them.
“C’mon, bucko, we’ll get y’to camp, not far now.”
“Rather, you just lean on me’n’ole Trowbaggs, that’ll give us five footpaws between us.”
Shangle threw his paws gratefully around their shoulders. “Thanks, mates, I’ll do the same fer you sometime!”
Good-natured as ever, Furgale winked at the older hare. “‘Course y’will, old lad, when this is finished y’can
piggyback both of us all the way home, wot!”
Lady Cregga was not at the rendezvous. It was a fine dry night, and the ground was still warm from the sun’s heat.
Lance Corporal Ellbrig was left in charge while Clubrush headed off alone after their leader.
Ellbrig watched Trowbaggs and Furgale staggering in with Shangle between them. “Well done, you two! Shangle,
sit down there an’ I’ll take a look at that footpaw. The rest of you, cold supper, no fires, sleep on the ground with yore
groundsheets as pillows, don’t unroll ’em. We’ll be movin’ out sharpish at first light.”
Deodar and a hare named Fallow were on first watch. They jumped up, weapons at the ready, as two figures
loomed up through the gloom.
“Who goes there? Step forward an’ be recognized!” Fallow ordered.
Algador and Reeve jogged out of the darkness.
“What ho the camp, ’tis only us Gallopers. Well, did y’catch up with Lady Rose Eyes?”