Doogy sat down upon the great drum, nodding readily. He did not have the heart to speak the truth. “Och, he’s had nothin’ but the bonniest things tae say about ye, marm. An’ who am I tae doubt yore husband’s word?”
The Highlander looked at Rockbottom, who shook his little head and retreated into his shell.
Didjety was slightly flustered by the lavish praise being heaped upon her. But, being the practical volewife, she was quick to recover. “I thank ye both for yore faith in me. Now, we’d best get marchin’. Sure we don’t want t’be late for supper tonight.”
With renewed vigour, they stepped out toward their goal. The great drum trundled easily alongside Doogy, who controlled it like a hoop, with a stout twig. To keep their spirits up he sang an old marching song he recalled from his Highland days.
“Set mah plate an’ mah tankard on the table,
an’ watch out for me comin’ home tonight.
Keep mah supper in the oven if yore able,
an’ in the window place a welcome light.
Tramp tramp tramp! Hear what the Sergeant said,
tonight ah’ll be sleepin’ in mah own wee bed!
No more layin”neath the stars in the heather,
no more eatin’ what the greasy cook has burned,
no more toilin’ through the cold’n’rainy weather,
once tae mah bonny home ah have returned.
Tramp tramp tramp! Hear what the Sergeant said,
tonight ah’ll be sleepin’ in mah own wee bed!”
On the “tramp tramp” bits, Doogy hit the drum with his twig. He could not recall any more of the verses, so he sang it twice again, with Yoofus and Didjety joining in on the chorus with gusto. After a while, Yoofus began eyeing the drum. Doogy could tell he was planning to steal it—by one means or the other.
The volethief grinned cheerily at him. “Ah, sure ye must be gettin’ tired an’ weary of luggin’ an’ pushin’ that useless ould drum along. Why don’t ye let me take charge of the clumsy thing for a bit?”
Doogy left Yoofus in no doubt that he was on to him. “Ah’ll thank ye tae keep yore thievin’ eyes off’n this drum. Ye ken ’tis the property o’ Redwall Abbey, an’ that’s where I aim tae deliver it, all in good order. As tae what becomes o’ yore goodwife’s wee pet Rockbottom, well, the Abbot should be the one tae decide that!”
Didjety looked quite concerned. “But I couldn’t be without dear liddle Rockbottom, he’s me own darlin’ pet. D’ye think the Abbot will want to keep him, Mister Plumm?” She sobbed visibly and wiped her eyes upon her pinafore.
Doogy patted the volewife’s paw comfortingly. “From wot ah’ve seen of Abbot Humble, he’s a kindly auld beastie. He’d no steal yore pet from ye, marm. Ah’ll have a word wi’ him mahself.”
Didjety smiled gratefully. “My thanks to ye, Mister Plumm. Yore a darlin’, soft-hearted creature yoreself, to think of me the way ye do.”
Doogy’s bushy tail rose in an arc over his head and dropped down to cover his face, a sure sign of embarrassment in any squirrel. “Och, away with ye, Missus Lightpaw. Ah only do it ’cos ah’m so powerful fond o’ yore sausage rolls!”
The long day was drawing to a pleasant close as the weary travellers emerged from South Mossflower woodlands. Across the grassy commonland in front of them, Redwall Abbey rose majestically, all dusty pink and shadowed by the day’s last sunlight. The water voles were walking slightly in front of Doogy, who was still rolling the drum along.
As a born warrior, Doogy had always possessed an inbred sense of danger. As they broke through the trees onto the grassland, the squirrel warrior’s neck fur began prickling. The crack of paw upon twig caused him to whirl around, grabbing at his claymore hilt. He saw six vermin stalking through the undergrowth in an attempt to encircle him and his two friends, with Gulo the Savage at their centre.
The Highlander drew his claymore, yelling to the voles, “Run for it, mates. Get intae the Abbey, now!”
Yoofus and Didjety paused a moment, looking puzzled. Then they turned and saw the vermin.
Doogy launched himself at the enemy, roaring, “Run! Run! Ye can do no good here! Hawaaaaay the Braw!”
Yoofus grabbed his wife and hustled her wildly along. One of the vermin broke away from the rest, attempting to cut the water voles off. Doogy whirled, slaying him with a sweep of his claymore and as he did so, the Highlander’s back was turned from the vermin for but a moment. That was all the time Gulo the Savage needed: he quickly grabbed a hefty rock and threw it at the Highlander. The missile made a clunking sound as it bounced off the back of Doogy’s head. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Hauling his wife along, Yoofus ran as he had never run before. Neither of the voles looked back as they sped across the commonland toward the south wallgate.
With Rockbottom bouncing around in his backsling, the volethief threw himself at the wicker gate, panting and roaring, “Attack! Attack! For the love o’ mercy, open the gate!”
Didjety joined him, wailing piteously, “Ah sure we’ll be completely destroyed if y’don’t let us in! Help! Heeeeelp!”
Fortunately, Ulba molewife was taking a group of Dibbuns for an evening stroll around the Abbey pond before packing them off to their beds. Brookflow the ottermaid accompanied them, lest any should fall into the water, a fairly common occurrence when Abbeybabes and ponds come into contact. The little party was skirting the south edge of the water when they heard the voles’ impassioned cries.
Brookflow acted promptly, shouting out a course of action. “Get the little ’uns back to the Abbey, Ulba. I’ll see what’s goin’ on out there. Send some help, just in case!”
The molewife had her paws full trying to keep the Dibbuns from following the ottermaid. “You’m h’infants cumm back yurr with oi. Miz Brooky, be ee vurry careful naow!”
No sooner had Brooky shot the bolts back and cracked open the wicker gate than she spied the voles, dancing up and down in agitation.
“Mister Lightpaw, it’s you! What’s goin’ on out there?”
Yoofus shoved the door fully open and dashed inside, pulling Didjety along behind him. He wiped a paw across his brow. “Sure, an’ who did ye think it was, a frog on a frolic? Quick, bar that gate! ’Tis teemin’ wid vermin out there!”
Before there was time for further discussion, Tam, Skipper and the Long Patrol hares came charging along.
Yoofus relaxed, quickly regaining his composure now that the danger was past. “Well now, Mister MacBurl, aren’t ye the grand ould sight fer me weary eyes! Oh, I don’t think ye’ve met me darlin’ wife. Say hello t’the good creatures, Didjety!”
Tam grabbed the volethief’s paw roughly. “Where’s Doogy Plumm, an’ what’s goin’ on here? Speak!”
Yoofus winced. “Ouch! Leave off crushin’ me paw t’bits an’ I’ll tell ye!”
Tam relaxed his grip. “Hurry up then, an’ make it fast!”
The vermin who had been chasing the voles were about halfway across the commonland when Yoofus and Didjety were admitted to the Abbey and the door slammed shut. Gulo looked down at Doogy’s senseless form. He eyed the great drum, an idea forming in his mind. Signalling the vermin to return, he waited on them, nodding with satisfaction.
The wolverine issued orders. “Get ye this captive an’ yon drum back into the woodlands. Move sharp now, I have a plan!”
37
Because of the failing daylight, Sergeant Wonwill suggested that they take the water voles indoors for questioning. In Great Hall there was much curiosity about the object strapped to Yoofus’s back.
Abbot Humble ventured to touch the hard shell. “What is this thing, Mister Lightpaw?”
Didjety unfastened the strapping and placed her pet upon the floor. “Why, that’s me darlin’ liddle Rockbottom!”
A gasp of surprise went up as the creature poked out his head and legs. He began crawling toward a group of Dibbuns. Squeaking and squealing, they leapt back.