d’yer think yore goin’?”
Midge stood his ground, nodding at the guttering flames. “Need more wood fer the fire, matey.”
The rat considered Midge’s request, then jabbed with his spear so that his prisoner fell back in a sitting position.
“I’m not yore matey, an’ you ain’t goin’ nowhere. Lousewort, keep an’ eye on ’em. I’ll get the wood.”
Once Sneezewort had gone outside, Midge turned to his slow-witted partner. “You ain’t afeared of us, are yer,
bucko?”
A slow smile spread across the rat’s dull features. “Er, er, scared? Huh, why should I be scared o’ two rag-
bottomed beasts like youse? Yore no bother at all t’me.”
Midge moved closer to him, chuckling in a friendly manner. “Of course we ain’t, a dumb ole vermin like me mate
there, an’ a pore one-eyed wreck like me. Fat chance we’d ’ave agin a fine big strappin’ beast like yerself, armed wid a
great spear like that ’un. But lookit, yore spear shaft’s cracked right there!”
Lousewort lowered his head, following Midge’s pointing paw. “Where? I don’t see no crack.”
Midge’s other paw came swinging over, clutching a stone he had picked up from where he had been sitting.
Whump!
He hit Lousewort a hefty blow between the ears. The rat’s body wobbled, and he staggered dazedly. Using the
handle of his dirk, which he had kept well hidden beneath his cloak, Tammo sprang forward and dealt Lousewort a
smart rap between the eyes.
Midge caught the spear, lowering the senseless rat quietly down. “Quick, Tamm, put that fire out and get this
spear!”
Tammo kicked earth over the embers, then, grabbing the spear, he stood to one side of the entrance. Midge
positioned himself on the other side, holding the fallen rat’s cloak at the ready. Almost as they did, Sneezewort ducked
inside, carrying a few twigs. “Hoi! ’Taint arf dark in ’ere, wot’s go—Mmmtnffff!”
Midge had flung the cloak over the rat’s head. Tammo gave him two good hard knocks with the spearhaft to make
sure he went out.
Then they lay still, peering outside at Rinkul and his band, who had made a fire some distance away—careful after
Da-mug’s warning to stay away from the prisoners. Tammo watched them until he was sure they had noticed nothing
amiss. Midge passed him Sneezewort’s cloak and spear, and donned Louse wort’s cloak himself.
“Get rid o’ those rags now, Tamm. We’ll have to shift pretty fast!”
Discarding their disguises, they slid under the rear of the canvas shelter and wriggled off into the night, hugging
tight to the ground until they were well away. Midge threw the hood of his cloak up. “Now t’get old Fourdun free.
Right, Tamm, straighten up there! Make it look as if we’re two sentry-type vermin takin’ a duty patrol ’round the
camp, wot.”
Picking their way boldly ’round Rapscallions sleeping by campfires, the pair made their way down to the stream.
Blug-gach the Rapmark Captain was snoring next to his companions by the water’s edge, their fire untended and
burned to white ashes.
Tammo crept up to the cage and identified himself to the old squirrel. “It’s Tammo an’ Midge. C’mon, old chap,
time to go!”
A few swift slices of Tammo’s dirk severed the ropes on the cage door, and Fourdun crawled out, having already
freed himself of his bonds with the small knife they had given him earlier.
Positioning themselves either side of Fourdun, the hares gripped his paws and marched him off quietly, Midge
whispering to him, “If anybeast stops us, leave the talkin’ to me. We’re two Rapscallion guards takin’ you to Damug
’cos he wants to question you. I’ll bluff us through, don’t worry.”
Lousewort had two things going in his favor: an extra-thick skull and remarkable powers of recovery. Staggering
from the dark smoky shelter, he sat on the ground, nursing his head and grunting with pain.
Rinkul, who had been watching the darkened shelter suspiciously, came bounding over. “Where’s the two
prisoners? ’Ave yer still got ’em?”
Shaking his head gingerly, Lousewort peered up at him. “Er, er, I dunno, it went dark all of a sudden!”
Rinkul ran back to his fire and snatched a blazing brand. Kicking Lousewort aside, he rushed into the shelter, and
seizing Sneezewort cruelly by one ear, he struck him several times with the burning stick until the rat came ’round
with a yelp.
“Bunglin’ idiot,” Rinkul snarled into Sneezewort’s frightened face. “Y’ve let ’em escape, ’aven’t yer! Best thing
you can do is take off fast afore the Firstblade learns they’re gone, or Damug’H slay youVyore mate fer sure. Go on,
beat it, an’
don’t raise no alarms. Leave those two t’me, I’ll settle wid ’em!” He signaled to his waiting band. “Arm up an’
let’s go, they’ve escaped. Don’t go shoutin’ an’ roarin’ all over the camp. I wants those two ragbags fer meself. We’ll
catch ’em an’ take ’em somewheres nice’n’quiet where I’ll do that pair ’ard an’ slow afore dawnbreak. Now go silent!”
Lousewort staggered upright, and Sneezewort leaned on him for support. “That’s us finished wid the Rapscallions,
mate. Let’s be on our way afore Warfang wakes an’ decides to ’ave us fer brekkfist!”
Without another word, they stumbled off, south, as far as they could get from Damug Warfang’s vengeance.
The three escapers made their way uphill through the still-sleeping camp. Tammo felt that all was going well, too
well, and that worried him. Fourdun peered around into the darkness and suddenly saw Rinkul and his band striding
through the camp, coming in their direction.
Thinking swiftly, the old squirrel pulled his two friends down beside half a dozen vermin lying ’round a fire, and
scrambled beneath Midge’s cloak. “Lie still, some o’ the scum are comin’ this way!”
Hardly daring to breathe, they stretched on the ground amid the slumbering Rapscallions. Rinkul actually trod on
the hem of Tammo’s cloak as they went by, and Tammo heard the ferret murmur to one of his companions as they
passed, “I’ve got a feelin’ they’ll be down by the stream where that ole squirrel’s caged up!”
Raising his head carefully, Midge watched them from the back as they headed toward the water. The trio rose
slowly, avoiding the outstretched paws of a stoat who was acting out a dream. The stoat snuffled and turned away
from them, kicking out with a footpaw that came into contact with a glowing log.
“Yowch!”
At the sound of the creature’s yelp, Rinkul and his party turned.
Midge saw they were discovered. He took off at a run, hissing to his friends, “Fat’s in the fire, chaps, make a dash
for it!”
Silently and grimly the chase of death began as they shot off uphill.
The stoat was clutching his scorched footpaw, hopping about. One of RinkuFs band whacked him with a cudgel as
he passed, and snarled, “Go back ter sleep, mate!”
Though Fourdun was a strong old beast, he was not half as fast as the two hares, so they were forced to run at his
pace. With the enemy hard on their heels, they got clear of the encampment and made the brow of the hill. Midge
turned and threw his spear, and it pierced a vixen who was running alongside Rinkul. This slowed their pursuers
momentarily and bought them a second’s time.
Breasting the hill, Tammo called out as they ran, “Rock! Rockjaw Grang!”
Lower downhill, the giant hare heard Tammo. Leaping from cover, he bounded uphill to meet them. Rinkul was
first over the hilltop. He had pulled the spear from the dead vixen; taking aim at Midge, he threw the weapon skillfully.