"He's about to start his second run nowhold on, he's talking to Faith Spinney. I can't hear what he's saying. There he goes, up into the air! Faith's looking up and saying something. Let's hope MacPhearsome hasn't given the game away to her."
Foremole wrinkled his nose. "Missus Spinney doant un-nerstand heagly burds. They'm can't talken propply. Doant *ee wurry, zurr Berry'olly."
The five shrew logboats were on a broad open expanse of the Great South Stream. Mara sat side by side with Samkim, paddling steadily, as well as any two shrews. The badger maid could hear Arula telling Pikkle of Redwall feasts as they sat paddling in the prow of the boat opposite.
Pikkle kept interrupting with what could only be described as groans of delight at the mention of each fresh dish.
"Yurr, an' then they takes the meddyo cream an'"
"Whoo, my growlin' tummy! Don't tell me, let me guess, they take the jolly old meadowcream an' spread it thick over the damson pudden an' chuck lots of those candied chestnuts on top, wot?"
Arula blinked earnestly, shaking her head in amazement. "Bohurr aye. But 'ow did 'ee knoaw, zurr Ffloger?"
Pikkle rubbed his stomach. "The name's Ffolger, of thing, not Fflogeran' if it's absoballylutely anythin' to do with tucker, you can bet an acorn to a boulder that a Ffolger'll
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know about it. We're professional gluttons, y' see."
Mara splashed him with her paddle. "I can vouch for that, Arula!"
"Back water, ship paddles! Bows 'n' slings at the ready, Guosssom!"
Mara looked up to see a massive bird of prey beating its wide wings close to the water as it sped towards the logboats. Swiftly she brandished her paddle in the air as Samkim drew his sword and stood by her.
Log-a-log roared out further orders: "Don't fire until it tries to attackit may not be hunting!"
The great bird soared over them, brushing Mara and Samkim with a wingtip as it mounted into the air and wheeled in a circle. "Ach, yer braw beasties the noo, but if ye fire one arra' Ah'm a-coming doon tae mak' ye regret it!"
Pikkle put down his paddle and scratched his ears. "What in the name of the crazy cuckoo is the chap burbling on about? Can anybeast tell me?"
Alfoh placed a paw across Pikkle's mouth. "Wait, I think he's trying to tell us something. The bird certainly doesn't mean us any harm or he'd have attacked by now. Hi! You up there! We're the Guosssom shrews. Who are you and where are you from?"
The golden eagle dived, screeching like a siren.
' 'Redwaaaaaaaalllll!"
Samkim leapt up, waving his sword as he yelled out the reply:
"Redwaaaaalllllll!"
The eagle wheeled slowly then flapped off at a leisurely clip, turning off north to follow the course of another channel.
Samkim quivered with excitement as he picked up his paddle. "Did you hear that, Mara? Come on, Guardian, paddle! I'm sure he wants us to follow him. What do you say, Log-a-log?"
The shrew leader took up his paddle. "I think you're right. He's certainly traveling in the right directionthat branch stream will make a good shortcut, now I come to think about it. Right, let's follow the bird. Up paddles, Guosssom. Take
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the watercourse on the portside. We've got a new navigator to take us to Samkim's home!"
"Beating up the river, paddling down the stream, Find me a berth, lads, somewhere I can dream, Still quiet waters there, where the lilies float, Cool and green, dark and clean, there I'll moor
this boat.
Oho, you old paddle, you have made me sore, Bent all my back and wearied all my paw. " Pull me into harbor, there I'll make my thanks, Lie by the river, slumber on the banks. Where the willow's leaning o'er And the waters kiss the shore, That's the place that I will rest, linger
evermore."
"Abbess, marm, Missus Spinney, would you please get in the cart!" Thrugg stood with the harness about his shoulders, and the little green Abbey cart stood waiting on its four small wheels. Abbess Vale and Faith Spinney had been roused when it was barely dawn and hustled out of gatehouse and Abbey dormitory by Tudd and Sister Nasturtium. They stood hastily dressed on the lawn.
Thrugg looked over his shoulder at them. "Come on, ladies. Stir yore paws. Hop in the cart an' we'll go a nice ride down the path, eh?"
Faith Spinney fussed with her cloak fastener. "Mercy me. Mr. Thrugg, whatever for?''
The otter snorted impatiently. "For some o' those violets an' saxifrage wot grows in the churchyard of old Saint Ni-nian's, of course! I've told ye, Brother 'Ollyberry needs 'em fer a new batch o' physick. Now come on, Marms. We can't be lettin' 'im down, can we?"
Reluctantly the two friends climbed into the cart, plumping themselves on the cushions that had been placed on the seats specially for them.
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"But why must we go nowit's barely dawn?" Abbess Vale shook her head.
Tudd Spinney opened the main gate and waved the cart out onto the path. "That's the best time for violets V saxifrage, so I'm told. Off you goes now, gels. 'Ave a nice time!"
Faith wagged a severe paw at her husband. "Tudd Spinney, you ol1 fibber. What's got into you, sendin' us off like this? I'm sure there's lots of spry young uns who could pick plants better'n us two old creatures."
Thrugg jogged off south down the path through the mists of the rising dawn. "Aha, that's where yore wrong, marm. 'Ollyberry says them young uns don't know lupins from lilacs. He says that you an' the Abbess 'ave the beauty of experience."
Mightily flattered. Abbess Vale arched her neck and fluttered her eyelids. "Hollyberry isn't given to untruths, Faith. He could be right!"
Behind them, Tudd Spinney slammed the door and hobbled across the lawn, waving his stick. "Stir yore stumps now, good Redwallers. They've gone. Let's get busy!"
The sun heralded the day, palely at first but gradually bursting through into a heavy golden autumn radiance. Faith Spinney looked up at the dark evergreens and golden brown leaves turning crisp on the boughs, the dappling patterns of light and shade through the foliage making her blink as they trundled
along.
"Oh well, we've got a fair 'n' pretty day for whatever it is we're supposed to be a-doin' of, Vale."
The Abbess folded her paws into the wide habit sleeves. "Violets and saxifrage, my paw! There's something going on back at Red wall, or I'm a frog. Isn't that right, Thrugg?"
"Don't croak too loud, marm. Saint Ninian's is a fair ol' way yet. Why don't you two ladies 'ave a nap and catch up on yore sleep. I'll tip ye the word when we gets there."
The logboats had been pulled ashore at the nearest point MacPhearsome could manage; now the rest of the journey was mainly a good stout march through woodland. They ate sup-
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per and slept through the early evening on the banks of the stream.
Two hours after midnight, Log-a-log had disguised the five boats with branches and fern for safekeeping. He roused them and they broke camp. Lighting lanterns, they struck off into the depths of Mossflower. Samkim and Arula led, watching the dark shape of MacPhearsome whenever it could be seen above the treetops.
Arula drew in a deep breath. "Booharr, smell 'at, Sanken. 'Tis loiken the smell of 'ome!"
Samkim sniffed gratefully. "I know what you mean, Arula."