The Long Patrol Part 25

b.u.t.ty went at his task with a will; grabbing the chain high, he dashed from the step and leapt out, yelling, "Go an' get yore own dinneeeeeer!"

He flew across the swamp, but halfway across his paws began slipping down the muddy chain. b.u.t.ty was still traveling inward towards the ledge when he plowed into the swamp and vanished.

Immediately the surface of the swamp began wriggling and roiling with toads and mudfish.

Shad seized the spear close to its blade. "Quick, you three, grab the other end tight an' don't let go!"

Hanging on to the spear with one paw, Shad dipped daringly outward and grabbed the chain with his free paw. "Pull me in, pull me in quick!"

They hauled him from his almost horizontal position back onto the ledge. Wordlessly they all took the chain and pulled it in paw over paw, heaving madly at the rusted, mud-coated links. b.u.t.ty was dragged forcibly to safety, practically unrecognizable. He was coated from head to tail in reeking sludge, roaring and spitting mud as toads and mudfish clung to him, gnawing.

"Blooaargh! Gerrem off me, the filthy dirty swampsc.u.m!"

They brushed and wiped at him, cleaning him up as best they could.

"There y'are, matey, you'll live. The worst bit's over now!"

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279 b.u.t.ty winkled mud from both his eyes and glared at Shad. "How do you know?"

Toads proved the only problem on the narrow rock ledge. They congregated there in droves, perching on one another's backs, standing on the heads of those beneath them, blocking the way, sometimes five and six high. Sightless, filmed eyes, bulbous heads, damp spreading webs, and fat slimy bodies barred the path of the five Redwallers. The cavernous s.p.a.ce echoed to the sound of venomous hisses and croaks.

However, Shad was made of stern stuff. He headed the party, battling a path for them along the slippery rock strip. Buffeting left and right with the spearhandle, he thrashed the creatures unmercifully until they were forced to flee into the swamp. Toads plopped and flopped in scores to the waiting mire below.

The four creatures walking behind Shad kept their backs firmly against the wall. Gripping one another's paws, they edged slowly along to the mole tunnel, encouraging their champion.

"Get that big scoundrel, Shad-that 'un there!"

"Watch out for that fat 'un, he's tryin' to slip past you!"

"Burr, you'm give 'em billy oh, zurr, 'ard'n'eavy!"

The hole was not too high up. Shad could see into it by pulling himself up tip-pawed, but it was dark inside.

Foremole Diggum produced one of the torches from the cellar. "Oi brung this'n o'er with me. Can ee set flame to et?"

With a few threads of Tansy's habit, a piece of flint which Friar b.u.t.ty always carried, and the steel blade of Craklyn's quill knife, they improvised spark and tinder. Tansy set the smouldering threads on the resin head of the torch, and blew gently until it ignited.

Shad boosted them all into the mole tunnel, where they sat and took a breather. They all were tired, thirsty, and with grumbling, rumbling stomachs.

Friar b.u.t.ty picked drying mud from his paws and spat out grit from between his teeth. "Ah well, we might yet see daylight if this tunnel goes anywhere."

Foremole wrinkled his nose and sat back confidently. "Lissen yurr, b.u.t.ty, if'n summ mole digged this tunnel, then 280.

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you'm can lay to et thurr be a way out. Ho aye!"

It was a steep uphill climb, slippery at first, but growing easier once they encountered deep-sunk tree roots, which they could hold on to.

Craklyn explained the tunnel's origin to Tansy as they went. "From the journals of Abbess Germaine, I gather that this is one of the original pa.s.sages that the moles dug to flood Castle Kotir. They diverted a river down several tunnels and flooded the place out."

The Abbess, who was traveling behind Craklyn, smiled wryly. "Very interesting, I'm sure, marm, but will you try to stop kicking soil down the back of my neck!"

Friar b.u.t.ty, who was traveling up front with Foremole, shouted, "Fresh air! I can taste the breeze!"

Foremole, who was carrying the torch, suddenly backed up on to Craklyn's head, pulling b.u.t.ty with him. "Coom quick, zurr Shad, thurr be a surrpint up yurr!"

Scrabbling soil and b.u.mping past the others, Shad, who had been bringing up the rear, fought his way to the front. "A snake, ye say, matey? Where?"

The torchlight showed a sizeable reptile, coiled around a ma.s.s of roots, hissing dangerously. b.u.t.ty was petrified by it. "Sh... Sh ... Shad, look, 'tis an adder!"

The otter seized the torch and thrust it at the bared fangs and beaded eyes. The snake's coils bunched as it backed off.

" 'Taint no adder, that's a smooth snake. It don't cany poison in its fangs, but it can bite an' crush ye!"

"Hurr, you'm roight, zurr. Oi see'd ee smoothysnake once. Moi ole granma, she'm tole oi wot et wurr. Gurr, boitysnake!"

The fearless Shad stripped off his tunic. "A bitin' snake, eh? Then we'll just 'ave to give it sum mat to bite on, mates. There y'go. 'Ow's that, me ole scaley foebeast!"

He hung the tunic on his spear and jabbed it in the snake's face. Instinctively the smooth snake struck, biting deep into the homespun material. Shad was on it like lightning. He bundled the snake's head in the tunic, wrapped the garment tightly, and thrust it forcibly into the crossed forks of some thick-twisted roots. The snake thrashed about madly, but only for a brief time. It settled down into a steady twitch as it tried to pull itself free of the enc.u.mbering tunic.

Shad pointed upward. "Come on-I can see a twinkle o' starlight up ahead there!"

They followed him, hugging the far side of the tunnel cautiously as they pa.s.sed the slow-writhing reptile. : Even though they were sore and weary, the five companions .*' leapt about gladly once they were aboveground in the moonlit "> woodlands.

Friar b.u.t.ty was ecstatic. "O sweet life! O fresh fresh air! O green pretty gra.s.s!"

Foremole was used to being underground. He sat back and grinned at the young squirrel's antics. "Hurr hurr hurr! Wot ji price ee treasure naow, young zurr? Oi'lf wager ee wuddent I loik t'go back an lukk fer it."

T b.u.t.ty shook his voluminous Friar's habit and the cloakful of treasure fell out upon the gra.s.s. "I wasn't leavin' that behind! Why'd you think I slipped down the chain-it was the weight of this liddle lot!"

f Shad tweaked the young squirrel's nose. "Yer cheeky liddle l twister, we shoulda left you fer the toads an' mudfishes!" f b.u.t.ty pulled loose and jumped out of the patch of moonlight they were standing in. His four companions looked shocked for a moment, then they started laughing uproariously.

He pouted at them indignantly. "What're you all laughin' at? I don't see anythin' funny."

Craklyn wiped tears of merriment from her eyes. "Oh, don't you? Well, take a look at yourself, you magic green frog!" Swamp mud, dried and crusted, and the dust on b.u.t.ty's paws, was s.h.i.+ning bright green in the darkness. He gazed at his small fat stomach in anguish. "I'm green, s.h.i.+nin' bright green!"

Craklyn patted his back sympathetically, and a cloud of green dust arose. "It must be some mineral in the mud that does it, phosphorus or sulphur, I suppose. Heeheehee! Lead on, b.u.t.ty, we won't need a torch to show us the way, my small green-glowing friend!"

b.u.t.ty waved a bright green paw at the Recorder. "One more word outer you, miz Craklyn, an' I'll give yore share o' the treasure to Sister Viola, so there!"

Two old moles, Bunto and Drubb, were sleeping in the gatehouse at Redwall Abbey when they were wakened by banging 282.

on the main gate. Bunto blinked from the deep armchair he was settled in. "Oo c'n that be a bangin' on ee gate inna noight?"

Drubb rose stiffly from the smaller of the two armchairs by the fire. He yawned, stretched, and said, "Us'll never know 'til us'n's open ee gate. c.u.mmon, Bunto."

Stumbling out into the darkness, they unbarred the big gate and opened it a crack to see who required entrance to the Abbey, The other four had hidden themselves; b.u.t.ty stood there alone. The two moles took one look and scooted off toward the Abbey building, roaring in their deep ba.s.s voices, "Whuuuooooh! Thurr be ee likkle green ghost at ee gate, an' ee'm lookin' loik pore young b.u.t.ty. Murrsy on us'n's!"

A half of a dandelion wine barrel cut lengthways formed the badgerbabe Russano's cradle. Mother Buscol rocked it gently with a footpaw as she dozed on a pile of sacks in the dark, warm kitchens of Redwall. Only a faint, reddish glow showed from the oven fires, where the scones were slowly baking for next morning's breakfast. From his cradle, the little Russano sat up and pointed at the strange apparition that had appeared. He smiled at it and uttered the only word he knew.

"Nut!"

Mother Buscol half opened her eyes, inquiring sleepily, "Nut? What nut, m'dear?"

Then her eyes came fully open and she saw b.u.t.ty standing there. "Waaaoooow! 'Tis young b.u.t.ty, come back to 'aunt me! Ho, spare me, green spirit, don't 'arm me or the liddle one!"

The glowing phantom answered in a hollow, moaning voice, "Bring scones from the ovens, enough for five, honey too, an' woodland trifle if'n there be any about. Some strawberry fizz an' October Ale. I'll be outside. Remember now, enough for five!"

The specter faded slowly away to the small canteen outside the kitchens. Mother Buscol busied herself, complaining to a c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l charm she always wore around her neck, ' 'Indeed to goodness, fat lot o' good you were. Lucky charm, indeed. I was nearly eaten alive in me bed by an 'ungry ghost. Fifteen scones, that'll be three apiece, now where's that woodland

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trifle got to? Oh, dearie me, don't you fret, my liddle babby, I won't let 'im 'ave you!"

Russano stood up in his tiny nights.h.i.+rt, chuckling. "Yee-heehee. Nut!"

Accompanied by Taunoc and Orocca, the old squirrel-mother brought out a heaped tray. Shad had to take it and put it on the table, as she almost dropped it. In the lantern-lit area, b.u.t.ty appeared normal.

Tansy waved at her. "h.e.l.lo, Mother Buscol, Orocca, and Taunoc, my friends. How are your eggchicks? Well, I hope?"

Taunoc bowed courteously and alighted on the table. "We are all healthy, thank you, Abbess. Welcome back to Red-wall!"

Major Perigord Habile Sinistra looked around the high ridge in the dawn light, sizing up the hillside and valley below.

"You an' Mono did well, Sergeant Torgoch. This ridge could be held against many by a few. Top marks, wot!"

Morio threw a languid salute. "Best place we could find, sah. Looks like we're first here."

Brisk as ever, Torgoch was issuing orders. "Scout around now, see if y'can find stones, any kind, from pebbles to blinkin' boulders. Put 'em in piles along the ridge-always useful t'chuck down on the vermin."

Perigord nodded approvingly. "Good show, Sar'nt, make use of the terrain, eh, wot. Chief Log-a-Log, what can I do for you, old lad?"

The Guosim leader nodded, shrews not being in the habit of saluting. "ThinkirT about food fer the troops, Major. Shall we risk lightin' cookin' fires?"

"Why not, old chap, why not, we want the blinkin' enemy to see where we are. Light some whackin' great bonfires, if y'please."

Log-a-Log took Perigord at his word, and soon three huge 284.

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fires were alight and blazing out like beacons in the gray of dawn.

Gurgan Spearback had a stroke of luck. His Waterhogs reported they had found a great, fallen pine trunk on the ridge's other side.

"Thee did well, 'ogs. Fetch rope an' wedges. Methinks I'd like yon timber atop o' the ridge-'twill come in useful."

Everybeast joined in to roll the big dead trunk uphill. Gurgan, painted for war, wearing his club and ax, supervised the job. "Put thy backs into it, thou slab-chopped ne'er-do-well rabble! A liddle twig like yon should give thee an appet.i.te for when we breakfast. Worry not about gettin' lily-white paws dusty, by me spikes, come on, move it, afore I move ye to bitter tears!"

Captain Twayblade levered hard at the pine with a pike, smiling in high good humor at the fat hedgehog's insults. One of Skipper's crew working alongside her gritted his teeth as he threw his weight against the ma.s.sive log, and muttered, "Wot's so funny, Cap'n?"

Twayblade leaned on the pikehaft, taking a short breather. "That Waterhog, old chap, Gurgan thingummy. I'd like to put him in a contest against our Sergeant Torgoch. I wager they could insult a regiment for a full day without jolly well re-peatin' themselves. That Waterhog's a born Color Sergeant!"

Pasque Valerian sat alone near the tall standing rock at the ridge center, her breakfast untouched, watching the daybreak. Rising from behind a bank of dusky cream cloud, the sun appeared reddish-hued like a new copper coin, burning the morning dew into tiny wraithlike tendrils. It was the start of a high summer's day, but the young hare was downcast.

Arven, the Champion of Redwall, had already eaten. He wandered across to where Pasque sat, and, leaning against the rock, he watched her. "Gracious me, there's a long face! D'you want it to rain?"

The young hare looked up into the squirrel's kind features. "No sir, I hope the day stays fine."

"Lost your appet.i.te too, I see?"

"Oh, I'll get 'round to eatin' it, sir."

' 'What is it, then? Are you afraid of the battle to come?''

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"Not really, sir. I've seen quite a bit of action with Long Patrol."

Arven drew the Sword of Martin from its sheath across his back. He touched Pasque's paw lightly with the tip, smiling secretly. "D'you see this sword? Did you know that it has the power to make pretty hare maidens happy?"

Pasque cast her eyes over the legendary blade. "I've never known a sword do that, sir, but if you say it does, then I'll have to take your word."

Arven snorted impatiently and flourished the blade. "Hah! I see y'don't believe me. Right, I'll show you, missie. C'mon, up off your hunkers and see where my blade is pointing!"

Pasque arose with a small sigh. She did not feel like being forced to laugh at sword tricks.

Arven pointed the blade out and downward to the back of the ridge. "Place your eye level with my sword and look carefully."

The young hare did as she was bid, and in an instant she was wreathed in smiles, jumping about excitedly. "It's Tammo, he's coming! He's coming here!"

Arven watched the small figure below on the plain, running in front of two others like a true Long Patrol Galloper. "Y'see, I told you this is a powerful sword!"

Major Perigord had to lower his brows and glower a bit to prevent himself from smiling. "I say, Pasque, old thing, d'you mind lettin' go of young Tammo's paw, just while he makes his blinkin' report t'me, wot!"