supposing we could get out.”
“I wish we had a strong mole with us.”
“Aye, and if wishes were fishes there’d be no room in the river for water.”
“I’m sorry, Matthias. I was only thinking aloud.”
“Pay no heed to me, Orlando. It’s this terrible darkness, the heat and the lack of air—”
“And this confounded dust in me ears, laddie buck!”
“Basil! You were listening to us.”
“Say no more, old lad, say no more. Backs to the wall and all that, I say, I don’t suppose anyone’s got a
bite to eat stowed on ’em?”
Even young Cheek managed a faint laugh. “Trust you to think of food at a time like this, mate.”
“Sorry, Basil, we left the supplies outside so they wouldn’t hamper us in the ambush,” Jess Squirrel
called from the far side of the cave.
Jabez Stump yawned. “Some ambush, eh? We’ve got ourselves rightly scuttled, you mark my spikes.
Best thing is to sit quiet, think hard and breathe light.”
A gloomy silence fell as they acted on the hedgehog’s good advice.
Mattimeo dug and scrabbled wildly at the huge ever moving landslide. The sun was reaching its zenith and
the digging was becoming more heated and futile. Grunting with exertion, he straightened up and passed a
paw across his brow as a pile of loose earth rattled around his ears. Mattimeo’s quick temper snapped. He
seized a pawful of pebbles and flung them at Tim, who was digging higher up the pile.
“By the fur! Can’t you stop loading muck down on top of me every chance you get?” Mattimeo
grumbled.
Tim straightened up. “Sorry.”
“Sorry’s not good enough,” Mattimeo snorted. “Just watch where you’re chucking that stuff, will you!”
Tess passed Mattimeo a broad leaf containing water she had scooped from the stream. “Here, drink this
and cool down. We’ll get nowhere yelling at each other.”
Mattimeo dashed the leaf from her paw, his face livid with anger. “It’s all right for you to talk, your
father isn’t buried in there, is he? Where in the name of the claw has that hedgehog got to? It’s going to take
him half a season to find a branch so we can lever these rocks out—”
“Over here, little hero. We’ve got your friends over here!”
Bageye and Skinpaw had Jube and Cynthia tied by their necks on a rope.
Still flushed with temper, Mattimeo grabbed a chunk of rock. “Come on Auma, Sam, let’s charge them!”
They had reached the lower edge of the rubble when Slagar’s voice rang out mockingly behind them,
“My, my, aren’t we the bold ones? Go ahead, try it.”
Mattimeo whirled about to face Slagar and half a dozen others who had circled round to join him. They
were all heavily armed. The young mouse, still driven by rage, hurled a rock. Slagar dodged it easily and
drew out his fearsome weapon. The three leather thongs whirred as he swung them in a circle, the metal
balls at the ends of the thongs clacking together viciously. The masked fox pointed at Tess Churchmouse.
“Drop that rock, mouse. Any of you runaways make a move and I’ll smash little missie’s skull to a
pulp. I never miss.”
Tess closed her eyes tight and clasped her paws together. “Run, Mattimeo! Run for your life back to
Redwall. Bring help!”
“Go on, do as she says,” Slagar sniggered with glee. “After I’ve killed her, I’ll kill you. To slay the
Warrior of Redwall and his son in such a short time would make my revenge complete.”
The rock fell from Mattimeo’s open paw. Hot tears sprang to his eyes as he hung his head in defeat.
They were roughly herded together by Bageye and Skinpaw. The rope was looped about the neck of
each of the friends as Bageye bound their paws in front with thongs.
Slagar nodded towards the south woodland fringe. “Right, let’s go. Oh, you can take your time now,
there’s nobody following us anymore. Hahahaha!”
Auma made a strangled noise, halfway between a growl and a sob. Dragging the captives with her, she
fell back upon the huge mound of rubble and began digging furiously. It took all the slavers to drag her off.
Beating with canes and rope ends, they bludgeoned the little group off along the south trail through the
summer woodlands.
Realization of what had taken place hit Sam Squirrel like a bolt, and tears trickled from his eyes. They
all cried.
All except Mattimeo. His eyes were dry. Jaws clenched tight, he strode upright, ignoring all about him
but Slagar. Never once did his gaze leave the figure of the masked fox.
Slagar dropped back a pace to talk to Skinpaw.
“How far off are the others?” he asked.
“Within two marches of the great cliffs. I’ve told them to wait at the foothills until we arrive, Chief.”
“Good. It shouldn’t be too difficult to catch them up. What are you staring at, mouse?”
“You should have killed me back at the canyon.” Mattimeo’s voice was flat and contemptuous.
Slagar eyed the bold young mouse and shook his head. “I’ve killed your father. His sword is buried
with him. That’s enough for one day’s work. You, I will let live to suffer.”
Mattimeo stopped marching. His friends stopped also. The young mouse’s eyes were hard with scorn.
“Then you’re not only a cowardly murdering scum, you’re a fool. Because from now on I live with one
purpose only: to kill you.”
Slagar was taken aback by the determination and loathing that emanated from Mattimeo. He glared
savagely at him, trying to frighten the young mouse into submission. Mattimeo glared back, completely
unafraid. He was a different mouse altogether.
Snatching the willow cane from Skinpaw, the Cruel One struck out, lashing Mattimeo several times.
The cane snapped. Slagar stood shaking, breathing hard through the silken mask.
Mattimeo curled his lip defiantly. He had not even felt the blows. “Get yourself another cane and try
harder, half-face!”
“Skinpaw, Bageye! Keep this one marching up front with you. Move!”
Mattimeo was dragged off to the front of the column. Slagar marched behind, visibly shaken, glad that
he could not feel the young mouse’s eyes boring into him from behind.
Chapter 24
Though the missing young ones were uppermost in the minds of all the Redwallers, they tried to carry on
with Abbey life in a normal fashion, keeping a brave face on things by going about their tasks in a cheerful
manner.
Afternoon tea in Cavern Hole was served amid a great buzz of excitement. Copies of the twelve letters
discovered by baby Rollo had been distributed, and there was a prize of a pink iced woodland plum and
spice cake baked by the Abbot himself. John Churchmouse was strongly fancied to win it, though Abbot
Mordalfus was having a serious try. Being the proud maker of such a cake, he wanted to keep it and admire
it awhile. Baking was the Father Abbot’s latest accomplishment. Ever since the making of his
Redcurrantwall Abbot Alf Cake, he had been longing to try his paw at cake-making again. The moles
formed a joint crew, and they sat scratching their velvety heads as they gazed at the twelve letters.
B B O O C T A P W E R Y.
“Burr, all oopside backways, if’n you arsken oi.”
“Hurr, quit talken an’ get thinkin, Jarge, or you’ll never win yon pinkice cake.”
Cornflower had joined up with baby Rollo and Mrs. Churchmouse. Winifred, Brother Sedge and
Ambrose Spike sat together. In various corners of the room small groups kept hard at it, trying to solve the
mystery of the twelve letters. Every once in a while some creature would approach the Abbot with a